#speak of him over my grave and witness how he brings me back to life

[ushi-mama]

[mm-lurking]

MAY I REQUEST FOR ANGST POOKS 😘😝 MYBE ABT BRINGING UP THEIR DEAD EX BY ACCIDENT DURING AN ARGUEMENT? THERES RARELY ANY ANGST IM GETTING MAD 👹

I saw your ask at 11 pm and something about the way you wrote your request made me giggle so hard idk why 🤣 Since you demand angst I shall give it to you. You’re my first ask btw so thank you very much! 

I’m not sure which character you wanted me to write for so I’m going to go for Blade and Aventurine. Though feel free to send me specific characters through the ask again!

Warnings: no fluff at all, pure angst, fem! reader and ex, reader has no chill running her mouth, Aventurine’s kinda feels ooc sorry about that WC: 1881

Blade

You were a hair’s breadth away from being gravely injured. If it weren’t for Blade’s interruption you would have been Antimatter Legion dinner tonight. In your eyes you weren’t in that much danger, you knew you could handle it on your own but in Blade’s eyes, it was just another flashback to how he lost her. It felt frustrating to watch him downplay your capabilities, it's not like you were some weak damsel in distress. There was a reason your relations with the Stellaron Hunters had lasted as far as it had; you were good at wielding your weapon and making good use of the enemy’s weaknesses. Sure there were moments when you were in trouble but you never really got to live the thrill of it because Blade would always step in to help you even when you didn’t ask for it. 

You loved him dearly and appreciated his assistance but just for this instance, you wanted to deal with things by yourself. Ultimately your agitation got the best of you and so now here you were with your arms crossed, glaring at Blade after the enemy was taken care of.

“Have you always been this foolish?”

You stare at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, questioning his audacity of insulting you like this.

“Excuse me?”

“You could have gotten hurt.”

He says matter-of-factly and you feel your jaws clench at the way he speaks to you.

“Blade I am fully capable of looking after myself! I need you to stop interrupting my fights!”

“If I didn’t that Antimatter Legion pawn would have sliced your head off your shoulders.”

“And how the hell do you know that was going to happen?! I could have fought it easily if it weren’t for you!”

He turns around and looks at you with cold eyes which make you flinch momentarily.

“You overestimate yourself.”

“I do not! I have worked relentlessly on my skills! I know what I can handle or what I can’t! You just never allow me to prove it!”

“You are a fool. I do not need to see you pushed to your limits to acknowledge your skills.”

“Then why the hell won’t you let me do what I want?!”

You both argue back and forth with neither of you backing down. Blade speaks calmly, just as he always has but with slight frustration whereas you on the other hand are full-on yelling and boiling over to the point of rage. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“I am just looking out for you-”

“I am not weak like Chun. Stop treating me like I am.”

You almost immediately regret it the moment those words leave your mouth. Your words are sharp and bitter, and pierce his heart like a blade slashing through flesh. His eyes are ablaze with fury and pain and the way his jaw clenches is enough to let you know you have overstepped your boundary.

Chun was his first love. She was a good woman with a kind heart, and despite how odd she looked amongst the Stellaron Hunters, they welcomed her as long as it made Blade happy. But in a world full of evil, being kind is a weakness and ultimately she met her end in the hands of an enemy during heated negotiations. For the one whose life was already cursed by immortality, he took her death hard and swore never to love again, for he couldn’t bear to witness yet another loved one depart for the nth time in his long life. His already broken heart took ages to heal and by the time you crossed paths with him, he was still grieving over her. You knew this very well because it was you who assured him that history wouldn’t repeat itself with you. It was you who helped him heal further and gave him the confidence to open his heart up once more to you. You knew what she meant to him because he had been honest with you about his past yet-

“Blade I-”

-here you were driving the very knife you had taken out of him so lovingly back into his heart in full force. He looks at you with so much despise and agony that your heart hurts knowing you are the cause for it. A blade being stabbed over and over into his body hurt, but those wounds always healed after a while. Yet the wound your words had caused was one that no medication could fix. Your throat tightens and you want to reach out to him and hold him but you stay glued to your feet.

“We don’t need to be around each other anymore.”

Despite the torment he feels, he looks straight into your eyes and monotonously speaks. There is not even a single moment spared for you to reply as he walks out of the room and slams the door shut, indicating he is done with you. The door closing was not just the end of the argument you both were having, it was also the end of what you were to each other. You stand there rooted to the ground as tears sting your eyes. Why did you have to be like this?

Aventurine

“Aventurine I swear to god I am not playing your petty games again.”

You angrily huff as you cross your arms and glare at Aventurine with disapproval. The audacity of this man was truly something, especially at a time like this. You both were stuck in an interesting situation, where Aventurine had made a gamble with an enemy territory and he wanted you to be part of it. More precisely, he wanted to turn you into his bargaining chip for a while. There was one tiny problem. He wasn’t asking for your approval, he had already made the deal.

“The table has already been set, friend. You just have to play your role real well.”

Your jaw hangs low when you realise what he has done. 

“Aventurine don’t tell me….”

“They have decided to ask for you in exchange of information. Do not worry, I will find a way to-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as a loud slap resonates across the room. You stare at him in disbelief with tears welling your eyes, unable to process what he has done. A shaky sigh leaves his mouth and he stares at you, bewildered by your behaviour.

“It hasn’t even been a full week since we finished another deal and you want me to jump head-on into another one?!”

“Was there a need to slap me like this? If you’re forgetting, friend, you agreed to help me out on these deals regardless of the risk. Or should I have the doctor examine your memory?”

“Aventurine I agreed to help you out, not be used however you please! You could have at least asked me first before making the deal!”

You rub your temples and rethink the entire situation through. Your relationship with Aventurine was compatible due to one simple fact: you both loved taking risks. The thrill of the gamble and the adrenaline of waiting for the results kept you both alive. It was the drug you both needed in this cruel unjust world.

But this, this was different. This wasn’t just any gamble and it wasn’t a small one either. Being traded off to the enemy territory for a few weeks was no easy task and you have no idea what the hell Aventurine was thinking. In your last deal, you barely made it out alive as the tables turned against your favour. It was a miracle your assets weren’t taken and that you weren’t killed in the process.

“…I promise you will be fine, friend.”

Tears sting your eyes and you try to take a deep breath. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“The gaiaithra triclops blesses me abundantly. We will not lose.”

“Is that what you said to Lilac as well before her demise?”

You hear how his breath hitches in his throat at the mention of Lilac. He coughs a little and then stares at you with a look you cannot decipher.

“Do not bring her up.”

His voice is a mere whisper and you know you’re crossing some lines already. Yet you don’t stop there. You jab your right index finger into his chest with every word you speak.

“I don’t know what’s worse, being a gambling chip on purpose or being a gambling chip unknowingly, like she was.”

He grips the hand you have on his chest tightly. You can’t help but wince a little at how he’s looking at you with red eyes filled with regret and anger. He tries to speak but you cut him off.

“Was losing her not enough to learn your lesson? Or do you turn everyone you love into pawns of your game?”

“You’re crossing the line now.”

He warns and you shake your head.

“You treat everyone like an asset, even the ones who truly love you without any hidden agenda. No wonder you couldn’t save Lilac-“

“Enough!”

Before you can process what is going on Aventurine pulls out a gun from his inner coat pocket and shoots a random vase on the table behind you. The bang of the gun and the loud shattering of the ceramic into pieces makes you jump and shake a little. He then shifts his gaze on you and lets your hand go before issuing his warning.

“…you need to leave. Leave before I accidentally hurt you.”

“I-“

“I said leave!”

He points the gun at you. His hand is shaking in a manner you have never seen before and you can tell he doesn’t want to do this but you’re giving him no choice. You stare at him for a moment and nod your head before scurrying away.

Once you’re out of his sight he plops onto the nearest sofa and drops his gun. It lands with a loud thud as he puts his head into his hands and shakes visibly. Flashbacks of that dreaded day start to play over and over in his head and he clenches his teeth as a tear rolls down his eye.

Lilac was a woman he met during one of his travels as an IPC stoneheart. They got along pretty well and eventually fell in love. A few years ago, Aventurine asked her for help during a deal he made and she agreed only for the other party to target her as leverage against Aventurine. He still remembers the pain in her eyes as she looked at him, confused and hurt from how she became the target. He remembers holding her in his arms apologising over and over for his lack of foresight, unable to figure out where he went wrong.

It was the first and last deal he ever lost. And now you, his new partner after several hard years of grief, were bringing up old wounds that never healed. Gaps of his heart that nothing would ever fill. Another tear rolls down his eye as he grits his teeth further. Had he known you would bring her up like this, he would have never told you about her. It’s always the closest ones that hurt you the most. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[sun-snatcher]

MATT MURDOCK thinks it’s this.

This, is the end: Facedown on the concrete, bleeding out at a crossroads upon Death’s feet. There are two obvious paths, and he is tired, and there is so, so much red.

I AM BUT A WITNESS.

And yet— 

His ears pick it up by instinct. The syllables drift in the air, spoken in-between the rough-tongue Russian of the henchmen that had ambushed and overwhelmed him. A location. The final piece to some puzzling agenda—

Your name. 

Something flickers in his chest. Searing. Blistering.

Death’s voice is eclipsing.

WILL YOUR PATH.

The Lord’s Prayer he’s been reciting in his mind is silenced.

There’d been a poet once upon a time— Matt remembers you reciting it to him in passing once— who had been questioned, "Do you love her?" And the poet’s answer had been simple:

"Speak of her over my grave, and watch how she brings me back to life."

Matt Murdock grunts. 

The crossroads is gone. Death withdraws;

and Daredevil rises.

— send in a blurb request ! — scroll the tag !

[corpsekiller]

𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — 𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. dabi x genderneutral!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. fluff, mentions of blood and death, pre!dabi dance

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. dabi finally opens up about his past and much to his surprise, you accept him as he is. even more you give him a choice of who he wants to be when he's with you.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. i'm finally getting back into writing after a quite long hiatus and i couldn't be happier that my motivation and my inspiration is returning. i'm still pretty busy with my studies since my exams are coming up in a month or so, but i'll try my best to write whenever i find the time. so enjoy this fic, my loves <33

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.363 words

MASTERLIST

"What do you want me to call you?"

The question hits him like a train at full speed, crashes into his ribs, and punches the air out of his lungs until his head spins with the lack of oxygen. His fingers have gone numb around the cigarette he’s holding and although he thought he grew accustomed to the cold after years of living out in the streets, lurking in the shadows of dark alleys most citizens of that shithole avoid at night, his entire body shivers under the thin layer of his torn clothes. And yet, even as the wind lashes around him and seeps through the seams of his sleeves to lick over his scars, he makes a point of pretending he isn’t freezing to the bone.

You, on the other hand, seem to sink further into your sweater, hands buried in the thick material and legs pulled tightly to your chest to keep yourself warm — a pathetic huddle of clothes hunched against an old tree, desperately trying to make yourself as small as possible to press yourself further into the crevices for some sort of shelter. As he watches you from his spot a few feet away, he feels a sharp sting of guilt for bringing you all the way here, away from the liveliness of the city and the hope it holds despite the war that has been raging through the streets.

But he owes you this, he thinks as he shrugs off his coat and closes the distance between you, carefully draping it over your shivering figure. The small smile you give him in return makes his heart ache with an unknown feeling of warmth; he isn’t quite sure how to call it, this sense of comfort that washes over him whenever your eyes meet, but he knows it’s something akin to love. Perhaps that’s why you deserve to know what really happened to him all those years ago, he supposes, a confession of the trust he has in you.

It would've been easy to get rid of you here; he could've burned you to a crisp without a single witness, slashed your throat before your mouth could've opened to release a treacherous scream, or simply broken your neck to watch the light inside your eyes die slowly. No one would've known where you went if there’d be anyone who cared enough about you and your miserable life.

On that count, you’re both very similar.

There was no other place he felt safe enough to talk about his past, though — about the boy he was for his father and killed mercilessly when he learned he’d never be good enough to meet his expectations. It felt fitting to return to his own grave, deep in the woods, where his fire consumed every living thing in a haze of cerulean blue and left a wasteland of solitude between trees shedding thick layers of ash and soot.

He remembers the pain of the flames melting the flesh off his bones, how they swallowed him whole and spat out something far worse than any monster he could ever imagine — a demon in the shape of unbridled rage and hatred, clawing his way out of scorched earth with a new thirst for war in his eyes.

“Y’know, doll,” he finally speaks, crouching down in front of you to pull the heavy leather tighter around your body before he leans forward and gently cups your face, caressing the curve of your jaw with his thumb. Instantly, you nuzzle into the palm of his hand, chasing the warmth of his touch and smiling softly when he breathes out a low chuckle and presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

It’s strange to see how he’s capable of such tenderness when all he’s ever known was violence and anger — these very same hands that have murdered and tortured mercilessly before have grown soft in your presence. Even if he would want to, Dabi doubts he could ever hurt you. It sounds fuckin’ stupid, he notices now that he thinks about it, but you changed him. “I never thought I’d hear someone ask this question.”

And look, he didn’t expect you to stay. It wouldn’t have been a surprise to him if you’d jumped to your feet and made a run for it as soon as he revealed his past, his true identity to you, but instead, you stayed right where you’re sitting, wrapped in his coat that smells faintly like days without a proper shower, like cigarettes, like him.

Instead of leaving him, you stayed and listened patiently to every word that spilled past his lips like blood gushing out of an open wound — watched how the tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he recalled his father’s rage towards him, reached out for his hand to give him some sort of reassurance whenever his voice broke, encouraging him to continue despite the horror that seemed to grow in your eyes with every passing second.

And when he finally stopped talking, when the wound stopped bleeding for the first time in years, you gave him something he never had before: a choice of who he wants to be, regardless of the horrors he committed. and the blood that clings to his hands after so many lives he took just to quench his thirst for revenge.

And that—

That must be love, right?

The realization comes crashing down on him when you gently grab his wrist and pull him away from your cheek, instead lifting it to your lips to brush a kiss over his bruised knuckles as you repeat the question, softer, more careful this time. “So, what do you want me to call you?”

His eyes search yours in fervor. It’s a desperate attempt to find any doubts that you might not accept who he truly is, that this love you have for him was only a figment of his imagination. Maybe he’s just been so scared all this time to open up to you because he was waiting for you to realize he’s just not worth it, that he’s better suited for the edge of a knife driven between his ribs than any kindness, but your gaze holds nothing more than pure adoration for him.

“Touya,” he finally replies, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You can call me Touya, sweetheart.”

“Touya,” you repeat slowly, delicately forming every syllable of his name on the tip of your tongue. His breath hitches in his throat as he listens to you say it again and again, trying to grow accustomed to the unfamiliar ring of his real name — it sounds like a fuckin’ prayer falling from your lips and any resentment he ever felt for his old name seems to simmer down into reluctance.

With every whisper of his name, Dabi shuffles closer to you, until your face are only mere inches apart and he can feel your breath ghost over his parted lips. It’s addicting, to hear you say those two little syllables, and it buzzes through his veins like some sort of drug, like he's getting high on fucking heroin.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so present in his stupidly frail body, doesn’t think he’s ever felt this fuckin’ alive before until this very moment and when the corners of your mouth curl into a smirk and your tongue darts out to repeat his name once again, he knows you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

He surges forward and crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss that coaxes a whimper out of you and Dabi swears he’s never felt like this before as he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip and hotly licks into your mouth, devouring you with everything you can offer. Your hands sink into his hair. A moan in the shape of his name escapes your throat and his stomach jumps into his chest because this—

This must be love, right? It has to be.

Because he never felt this fucking addicted to the sound of his name before until it fell from your lips.

[motheryoon]

in honour of sasuke retsuden release date, here’s something inspired by sasuke’s conversation with gigi

“do you love her to death?” he was asked by naruto one day. when sasuke merely blinked at him with his blank face and imperceivable expression, his best friend reiterated. “sakura. will you love her even in death?”

sasuke observed him for a moment before he turned his head to look at the moon. “when i die,” he said quietly, “speak of her over my grave, and watch how she brings me back to life.” naruto was silent, taken aback by the side of his brother in soul he’d never seen before.

“and should she ever pass before i do,” he continued, eyes focused yet unseeing all the same, gaze pinned to the moon, “bring her body to me, and bear witness to the way my heart beats for her, as i reanimate her with nothing but the flesh of her corpse and the love in my veins.”

they asked, “do you love her to death?” i said, “speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.” (mahmoud darwish)

[fandom-blackhole]

Hi! If your doing the mash up thing

Can you do Boba, fennec and leia for prompts 1 and 32 please?

Of course my lovely! Thank you for sending these in &lt;3

1) Historical AU 32) Pregnancy fic Pairings: Boba x Reader, Fennec x Reader, Leia x Reader (afab!gender/race neutral!reader)

Boba, Medieval (warnings- violence, also pregnancy not outright stated):

His lineage was contested by many. It was well known that his grandfather had once ruled a kingdom, that he was quite loved as well even though his reign was full of fighting and a war that ultimately cost him his kingdom and his life. His father disappeared after his own father's death, many believing that he followed his father to the grave as no one had seen him in quite some time. But then he appeared again, fathering a son of his own, but with no wife or mother in sight. So rumors flew, many stating he was a bastard boy and a disgrace to the name of Fett. Over time however, those whispers were quieted when Boba proved himself a dangerous adversary, when he became the knight you'd call upon when you needed someone found, when you needed someone disposed of. His price was high and many of the nobility called upon him, and while they sang praises of his work to his face, they turned their nose up at his name behind closed doors whispering pities about his parentage. He made it obvious that even if he did hear the cross words they didn't effect him, that he was higher than all of them and the words they passed around like breads at a Sunday mass. You knew of him only through rumors and second hand stories, your family high within society but not high enough to ever need his services yourself. It wasn't until you were called to be a lady-in-waiting for your cousin, a princess finally of age to start courting. You'd been living in the castle with her for a year when a proposal for her hand turned sour with allegations that the man had already fathered three children back in his own kingdom and when her father ended their courtship, the foreign prince in anger had sent assassins to kill your cousin, the plot only revealed when another of her lady's sipped from the wrong cup one afternoon and fell over dead mere moments later. After that a knight had been assigned to be with her at all times and the King sent for Boba Fett, desperate to rid of the paid assassins after his daughter. When he appeared he was everything the stories had said and more. Stoic with amber eyes and dark hair, scars healed over and intimidating. Many of the maids were scared of him, and none wanted to be the one to wait on him while in the castle, but for some reason you felt drawn to the quiet man, curious about him in a way you couldn't explain. Which is how you found yourself voluntarily becoming the one to bring him meals- he never ate with anyone, sending even you away after you put the food on the small table in his room for you to clean up the next morning, to fill his baths, and cater to his every need as the king had ordered. It seemed as his stay went on, you weren't the only one with a curiosity, his own making an appearance one evening after laying his dinner out, and as you opened your mouth to ask if he needed anything else before you left, he cut in, "Why is it, that the little lady-in-waiting of the princess is doing a maid's job?"

You looked up to meet his eyes, confused and surprised that he was actually speaking to you. "Because I was ordered to by my king, sir," your statement came out more like a question, of which you're sure he noticed, but as he poured himself a cup of wine, he huffed and it took you a second to recognize it for what is was, a laugh. Then after taking a long sip, he met your eyes and said, "Perhaps it's because everyone else is too scared to come near me. But not you, you aren't scared of me."

After that he excused you for the night, your mind racing as you made your way to your bed. And following that night, he spoke with you more often, his eyes sharp leaving you with the feeling that he was looking for something, something you're sure he found with each skip of your heart in your chest. Days passed and Boba did his job, finding and ridding the assassins after your cousin, until one evening he announced that he could find no trace of anymore assassins, that he would be moving on soon. Your heart had felt heavy at the news, feeling empty as you left your cousin's room one night after checking on her for the evening before you were to bring Boba his meal for the night. Your head had not been with you, thoughts a miles away when you passed a large open window and a sudden pain over took you and a force brought you to the ground, it took many seconds, if not a few minutes for your thoughts to come back to you and you found yourself sticky with a red liquid that you quickly realized was your own blood when your eyes focused on the arrow now protruding from your right shoulder. Your thoughts scattered as your consciousness felt foggy, only one thought clear in your mind, Boba. Some how you managed to get to your feet, white pain over taking your vision as your subconscious forced your forward, following the path you knew would take you to the safest place in the castle. You would later wonder how you didn't run into anyone else making your way to his room, but in the moment you could only feel sorry about the red trail you were no doubt leaving in your wake as you made it to Boba's room. When you got to the door all strength left you and your body collapsed everything fading, hearing nothing but ringing as you felt a soft golden light wash over you and concerned amber filled you vision as you finally succumbed to the dark.

When you awoke, you had been told that days had passed and that Boba had taken you to the physician before disappearing for a day and reappearing with hard look and fresh blood against his armor. He never came to where you were being kept, and when you were finally released you had assumed that he had just moved on, his job done so he left. But you were surprised to find him in your small room after returning from dinner, his eyes hungry, soaking in the life that had returned to you, a relief palpable in his shoulders when you smiled at him and thanked him for saving you. He turned to look out your window, the light fading in burnt oranges as the sun set. "Why did you come to my room, there had been several other doors you could have stopped and gotten help from, but you came to me. Why?"

It was your turn to look away, the floor becoming much easier to look at than him. "I'm not sure. I only knew that....that I had to make it to you.....that I would be safe with you."

You didn't look up for his reaction, for the first time scared of what you'd find. You listen as he takes a few steps, stopping in front of you, his finger moving under your chin, bringing you to look at him he says, "Don't start acting scared of me now little one. Not after everything."

Then you find him kissing you, slowly and with a different hunger than before, this one consuming and with a deep seeded need. He didn't leave you room that night as he held you in ways softer than you thought he was capable. After that night, he stated his intentions to your father the moment he could when your father visited a few months later. Your father wary of letting your hand to fall to a man that held nothing but controversy, but with the fact that Boba had saved your life, and you yourself seemingly happier than he had seen you in years he couldn't say no, especially with the suspicious way both your and Boba's hands tended to lingered on your lower stomach.

Fennec, Revolutionary War (warnings- mentions of spousal abuse):

Your husband was not a kind man, you did not love him, and it certainly wasn't your choice to marry him. Your father had been desperate with the rising tensions between the Brits and the colonists and wanting to be on the correct side of the fight when it broke out he secured you a husband with strong ties to England, and a lineage only a few removed from some big Duke. You were well off, lived in financial stability but your husband with each passing battle and each loss for the british took his anger out on you. Over time you found it best to just be as silent as a maid, never speak and be just as docile, only finding comfort among the kitchen, baking breads and sweets to share at the tea parties you were forced to attend and using the flour to try and hide the ugly bruises that formed along your skin, in denial that the house staff did not know about them if you could only hide them. As loss stacked up and the battles drew nearer, your husband found it fit to open your home to the crimson coated soldiers. You didn't necessarily hate having the other men in your home, some of the younger men were rather pleasant to you, sharing thanks as you brought them meals and fresh breads. The youngest of them, a boy barely 15 pulled at your heart strings as he barely got around with his injured left leg. He was sweet and funny and always had a smile, reminding you of a brother you lost many years ago making you slip him sweets you would not share with the other men. Unlike you husband, and although you showed kindness to the soldiers, your own morals sided with the colonists, smiling in secret with each win and news of General Washington's strategies curbing the oh so great red coated army, even when the news brought with it new bruises from your husband. Around the same time that a fresh way of soldiers were brought into your home, you found out the worst news second only to the news of your engagement, you were pregnant. Your husband was overjoyed, proud of himself, while still threating you telling you that you had better hoped that the child was a boy. You felt like a ghost floating around your own home, smiling falsely at the new men in your home, bowing your head when a high ranking officer joined the home. You stayed timid around everyone, your kindness to the troops went a bit stale as finding the strength to smile became harder and harder for you. You're small soldier boy found small ways to bring them out though and introduced you to one of the newer soldiers, a man he claimed to be better than the rest of the men in the house, someone he said was safe, like him. The new soldier gave off an air of confidence and easy smirks, he was....well beautiful, there was no other way to describe him, and your young soldier was right, he was safe. He felt safer than anyone else that you've met. Fen, as he asked you to call him became your closest confidant, you told him everything and as you grew closer you found yourself falling for him. A late fall evening you'd been walking around the grounds of your home when he found you, joining you on your walk. It was that night under the shade of the large oak near the pond that he told you the truth. Fen wasn't a man like you'd all been lead to believe, she was a spy from the colonist sneaking plans from the officer in your home. She told you that her full name was Fennec Shand, and that she was to be pulled from where she was hiding because they were close to figuring out her identity. Under the moon and stars she took you hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, asking you to come with her when she left that night, and your heart full of this woman still, you nodded, and smiled whispering, "I would follow you anywhere, because you are the only person that I know I am completely safe with."

Leia, Regency (warning- spousal abandonment, Han Solo slander):

You were her first friend and her closest. You were there for her throughout her childhood and stood by her as you watched with an aching heart as Leia was courted by all manners of society the moment the two of you turned of age. You were there for her when she fell for the the hot head nobody, Han Solo. You stood to the side and watched as she lowered herself in society for a man you knew was not good enough for her. You tried to push away all ill feelings towards Solo, chalking your dislike of him to be jealousy as you buried your love for your best friend deeper and deeper into your heart. And as time went on things seemed to go smoothly, you watched from arms length and Leia seemed happy and truly that's all you could ask for, even as you resigned yourself to never marry, to live a life pining for a women you know you could never have, but she was happy and that meant so much more than your own happiness. Then came the announcement, Leia was pregnant and you couldn't help but feel her joy as she came to you the second she knew, sharing the news with a happy smile, as having a family had always been her dream. But things went downhill as apparently a family was not one of his own dreams. As the days grew in number he left Leia alone at home for work trips more and more and rumors spread of him drinking his days away in bars when he was home. Leia kept a brave face, she'd always been the strongest woman you've ever known, but alone with you she cracked, her sadness and frustration spilling from her as you tried to reassure her as she fell into your arms more and more. Until the day Solo disappeared into thin air, no note, no trace of him left, and your heart ached at the resigned air Leia took, still holding herself proudly. The two of you grew closer as you took it upon yourself to look after her as her pregnancy neared its end, taking care of her when the doctor put her on bedrest as things turned. You loved her through actions, never expressing your adoration, but more than content to be by her side, to love her closer than you ever dreamed possible. Then one night as you were sharing a warm meal, she turned to you with a serious but soft tone, "It should have been you, you know? I should have realized the it was you who I truly needed by my side forever. If you would, I would like to rectify this now. Stay. With me, with us. Forever."

[cryopathiic]

Cont from x. || @whirling-fangs

'Why would I ever do business with a good for nothing scammer like you?'

A PREGNANT PAUSE FILLS THE ROOM on the wake of those harrowing words; Uncle Sano's chair groans and the man leans back with a contemptuous smirk. Dōma's face wrinkles, almost alluding to a pout — one that never quite settles as soon enough the young guru is back to poking and prodding. Albeit this time, something knowing creeps into his tone.

❝ Because I can get you something no one else can. ❞ The air is laden with wary anticipation; the goons that stand in mild disbelief of the audacity they've been made witness to and swallow their gasps when there's no repercussions from the old mobster. Uncle Sano merely squints, his fluffy brows shooting up and palms rest expectantly over his cane. Dōma sees a green light; he's quick to lean back in turn, almost as if merely acting like the tension loosened will make it a reality. Prismatic eyes roll back to the guards.

❝ Have you guys opened the box you found in my personal items yet? ❞ The silence confirms it. And Uncle Sano seems notably more intrigued now; his beady gaze confesses it, he's seen what's inside that box and he's holding back on the questions. Letting his dear 'nephew' dig his own grave as expected. And Dōma continues unpertrubed, the curl to his lips only growing more mischievous. ❝ Well, don't bother running it through the labs. It's 'Blue Spider Lilly'. ❞

Quiet. The men in the room tense up. Sano's lashes barely flutter a few times, a resting frown on his weathered features.

" How do I know you're not lying ? "

❝ Oh, come on, Uncle. You wanna feed these guys a pill right now and see what happens? ❞ Dōma giggles effervescently and one of the guards scowls at him in turn. The mobster remains unpertrubed.

" Why bring it to me? Why not push it into the market yourself? "

❝ Are you kidding me? That's not the kind of thing you can just start off a business with. You've got the connections ready. And the means. ❞ And with that he settles, content that he's said his piece. The older man's face seems indecipherable to anyone but Dōma, whose smile deepens, convinced that all went according to his plan and the big revelation it had all relied on played out exactly as expected. Only an idiot would pass up on the deal to circulate the profoundly elusive drug that's hardly out on the market yet. A medicine said to cure all ailments... made from a mystical bloom that was once rumored to grant immortal life. In other words, it would do numbers in parties. And not just the unhinged raves Dōma himself often attended.

❝ So, here's what I'm thinking. You can consider our interpersonal debts settled and we get to turn the page. I know you had your grievances with Chichi, but I don't think he's going to be paying you back for anything any time soon, honestly. ❞ He shrugs, voice softening in a darling fashion. ❝ But with me you, exclusively, get the supply from its source. And all I ask for in turn is small commission, like, say thirty percent of the supply. ❞

" To deal in your little group? " Uncle Sano's face wrinkles with puzzlement.

❝ For personal use. ❞ Dōma winks. It has the old mobster gargling a laugh.

" Ha! Ah-ha-ha-ha! You've got a mouth on you, young man. And how are you profiting by cutting yourself out of the network? Don't tell me you're looking to go clean, nephew. " There's a measure of contempt in the tone that, for once, seems to rattle the youngster a bit. If someone were to peer through those little crevisces in the vents, they may have caught a glimpse of Dōma's face momentarily stilling — the gleam in his eye attesting to something darker. It's the only moment he has shown any glimmer of hesitation and he knows it won't go by unnoticed.

But to speak that man's name would guarantee him the slow and painful death he has kept evading.

❝ Let's just say it is in my best interest that this thing becomes the new 'snow'. ❞

" Mm— "

Uncle Sano had been about to lean a little closer forth, when something of a rattle from the ceiling had his men look up simultaneously.

[im-no-jedi]

MLWTBB: This Isn't Goodbye

Part 12 of the “My Life With The Bad Batch” series, a (mostly) canon compliant self-insert story set in “The Bad Batch”

rated: M warnings: drowning, discussions of sex, implied character death, attempted suicide, implied sex relationships: Hunter/self-insert, Omega & self-insert (adopted siblings), The Bad Batch & self-insert chapter word count: 3300+ words

✨MLWTBB masterlist✨

summary: Hannah is confronted by a long-kept secret of hers that she refuses to bring to light. and after the Bad Batch take on a mission that goes horribly wrong, Hannah experiences one of her worst fears imaginable, bringing her to a breaking point of seemingly no return. everything that she’s faced up until this point will culminate into a life-changing moment that will affect the future for her and the group of Clones that she’s adopted as her new family.

notes: I blame the intensity of season 3 for delaying me from finishing this chapter for so long LOL. the good news is, now that the series is over, I have the full story to work with and rework as I see fit! (and boy, do I have some reworking to do 😬) this chapter officially marks the start of my character's journey forward, so I hope you enjoy!✨

A/N: this story has not been proofread by anyone other than myself. so apologies for any uncaught errors 😬

previous chapter

Chapter 5: The Cards Will Tell

________________________________________________________

Rain was a rare occurrence on Ord Mantell. But ever since Hannah had woken up that day, she’d felt a metaphorical rain cloud hovering over her, following her every step. Having now had two nightmares within the last rotation, on top of the Clones leaving on another wanton mission for Cid for who knows how long, it was starting to feel like Hannah was going to be eternally drenched in her own sorrow. She barely even registered the trip to Krag’s, despite the fact that she was the one solely making the trip. Her body seemed to be on autopilot the entire way there as her mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of her nightmares. Try as she might to push them out, they continued to plague her, even as she sat across the Krag’s desk with a handful of cards in her hand.

And this apparently didn’t go unnoticed by her opponent.

“Ya still wit me, sunshine?” The Krag asked. His deep, gravely voice held blatant concern behind it.

Hannah barely registered his words, but still managed an acknowledgement.

Krag narrowed his eyes at her and let out a thoughtful hum, clearly still sussing her out. “Ya don’ look so good. Haf ya been sleepin’ awright?”

Hannah simply shrugged her shoulders in response, keeping her gaze at the cards in her hands. Her vision was beginning to blur to the point where she could barely even make out the symbols on the cards, but she kept them strained open regardless.

“Ya not ushally dis quiet…” Krag leaned in a bit closer to Hannah to get a better look at her, prompting her to lean back from him.

After staring at her in silence for a moment, Krag suddenly snapped his meaty fingers together and gave a loud whistle. Hannah was violently rattled from her daze and nearly flew out of her seat with a yelp. 

“Ey, Squeaky!” Krag called out towards one of the halls. “Bring outta cup’a my guest’s fav’rite caf. Extra heavy on da sweetness dis time!”

By the time Hannah’s heart had stopped pounding, the familiar squeaks of Squeaky the giant mouse droid could be heard coming from the nearby hall. He wheeled into the room quickly but carefully. A cloth was draped over his rectangular body, and on the top of it sat a fairly large cup of iced caf, topped with an excessive amount of whip and sugar crystals.

“Nice jab,” Krag said as the caf was brought over to Hannah. She reached over and took the cup with both hands, giving Squeaky a grateful pat before he went wheeling back into the hall again.

Krag waited until Hannah had taken a few sips before speaking again. “Dat help?”

Hannah managed a small smile and nodded. “I like these brown crystals the best,” she said as she licked some of the whip off the top of her drink.

“I know,” Krag responded. “Dat’s why I get ‘em, just fa you.”

Hannah’s smile grew, and she took another sip of her caf. A smear of cream stained her upper lip, and she licked it off with a soft snicker.

“Now, let’s finish dis game, shall we?” Krag tapped his cards on the desk and leaned back into his large chair with a relaxed sigh. “Unless ya wanna forfeit…”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Hannah responded with a shake of her head. She set her mug down and picked up her cards again, giving them a good look over. Thankfully, the caf had brought back some of her vision. She pondered her choices for a moment before tossing a card into the pile in the middle of the desk.

Krag’s chair creaked as he leaned forward again to view Hannah’s move. One of his brows deftly raised, and he smacked his large lips in confusion. “Dat uhh… dat’s ya move?” He questioned Hannah, his brow still quirked.

“Yeah?” Hannah replied in equal confusion. “Why are you questioning me?”

“Well, it’s just…” Krag scratched the top of his head as he stared down at the pile of cards. “Ya don’t norm’lly make a mahstake like dis so early on.” He glanced up at Hannah to gauge her reaction before placing his own card into the pile.

Hannah’s eyes widened, then quickly turned down into a scowl as she looked at Krag’s card. He only let her stare at the pile for a moment before swiping it all into his lap.

“Ya sure ya still up fa dis?” Krag asked as he gathered up his newly acquired cards.

“I just didn’t have a better card in my hand, that’s all.” Hannah kept her gaze away as she spoke, a small scowl still left on her face. Despite Krag’s level of awareness nearly being on par with Hunter’s, Hannah hoped he wouldn’t be able to suss out her lies as easily either.

A neatly arranged stack of cards hit the table in front of the Krag, giving Hannah a slight start. Krag let out a low hum again, signaling his continuing assessment of Hannah.

“Is Cid givin’ ya a hahd time again?”

Hannah didn’t know what was more surprising, the question or the harshness of Krag’s tone.

“No more than usual,” Hannah replied with a small scoff. She took another sip of caf and sighed through her nose. A brief glance up at Krag was all she needed to see that he was still studying her. His eyes were squinted and his mouth was turned up into a disapproving frown. A look similar to ones she’d received from her family many times before.

“Dos Clones ain’t messin’ wit you, are dey?”

The question actually made Hannah chortle out loud.

“I know dat little goyl a’yours is an angel from da heavens,” Krag continued. “But dem others… dos sold-jahs? Are dey givin’ ya trouble?”

Hannah shook her head and couldn’t help but snicker. “No, no, no…”

“Ya sure?” Krag actually stood up from his chair and leaned closer to Hannah, all four hands on the desk. “I know how dem military types ahh. All ruff and tumb’l. Dey’d just as soon break ya b’fore day’d even feed ya!”

Hannah had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Krag… please.”

Krag began to lean so hard against the desk that it started to creak. “It betta not be dat so called ‘paht-nah’ a’yours eithah. I swear, if dat man is upsettin’ you in any way, I’ll take ‘im out back and show ‘im how ta really use a vibroblade.”

Hannah’s head nearly hit the table as she wrenched forward with a wheeze. “Krag! No! Oh my gosh. Hunter would never!” She continued to shake her head and chuckle, which thankfully signaled to Krag that she was truly ok.

“Awright, I’ll take ya word for it.” Krag leaned back into his chair and folded his top two hands against his rotund belly. “But ya betta let me know if he eva does…”

A wide smile spread on Hannah’s face as she snickered and shook her head again. “He won’t… but I will.”

With the mood in a better state now, it was assumed that they could resume their game without issue. A few rounds went by, with Hannah still noticeably quieter than usual, but she wasn’t questioned about it. Instead, Hannah had her own questions to ask.

“Krag?”

The large Besalisk hummed in acknowledgement, keeping his gaze down at the cards in his hand.

“How do you…” Hannah shifted in her seat with a small sigh. “I know you do a lot of… interesting work. Sometimes even stuff that could put you in danger. Or other people in danger.”

Krag’s attention fully shifted to Hannah. He didn’t even blink as he stared her down.

“So how do you… deal with that? Knowing something that could potentially be a danger to you… or others.”

Krag inhaled slowly and looked down at his cards again. He seemed to ponder Hannah’s words for a moment, then began rearranging his cards as he spoke. 

“Dat depends. If it’s a danj-uh to me, den I don’t worry too much. I got plenty’a cards in my hands to deal, if ya know what I mean.” He snickered and flared out his cards into a fan. “As for oth’a people… well dat depends on who’s bein’ involved. Aft’a all… sometimes danj’rus secrets are more useful dan harmful.” He looked at Hannah with a brow raised, causing her to look away.

“Yeah… that makes sense.” Hannah cleared her throat and shifted in her seat again. “So… then… do you ever… worry about that? Like… do you care about what people think about you? About what you know?”

A small smirk grew on Krag’s amphibian-like lips. “Nah. Dat’s dere prob’lm. Worry wasted fa nuthin’.” He leaned back in his chair, causing it to creak again. All four of his hands rested on his round belly, and he kept his face mostly hidden by the fan of cards he still held. “No sense wastin’ time worryin’ about tings that ain’t my con-soyn. I don’t need tah care about what oth’a people tink of me…” His eyes peeked up at Hannah over his cards. “And neith’a should you. Dah only opin-yun dat matters is yah own. Remem-bah dat.”

A familiar sentiment Hannah had heard before. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear Cid was talking to her through Krag in that moment. But all things considered, it made sense that the two of them agreed on that much.

That didn’t make it much easier to swallow though.

“But what about…” Hannah’s hands fell into her lap. She stared down at the cards she still held. One of the cards bore a symbol representing a sun, and next to it, a card bearing the familiar shape of a crescent moon. Underneath the moon card was a card decorated with a brilliant, shiny foil star; the rarest card in the entire game. Her thumb gently ran across the moon and star cards as she spoke. “What about… the people you really care about… the ones who actually mean something to you?”

In the brief silence that followed, Hannah’s mind raced with all the possible ways Krag might respond. She didn’t want to think about a potential response that she knew she couldn’t bear to accept. But knowing Krag, it was entirely possible. And she trusted his wisdom more than any other person she knew. Whatever he was about to say, Hannah was going to fully take to heart.

“Dat depends,” Krag eventually answered, his face still mostly shielded by his cards.. “In my experience, and in my line’a woyk, it’s gotta go both ways. Ain’t doin’ no good carin’ about someone dat don’t care about ya back.”

Hearing that sent a twinge through Hannah’s chest. It wasn’t so much the sentiment itself that bothered her, but the context of it. She herself had experienced as much in previous relationships with others… but knowing Krag’s history with her current boss, it made much more sense why he would say something like that.

“So, my ans’a?” Krag continued. “Treat dem no diff’rently. Deyr still people. And if dey care about ya back, really and truly, den it shouldn't matta what secrets ya got. Dat’s how love woyks aft’a all.”

The twinge in Hannah’s chest grew until it nearly overwhelmed her whole body. As expected, Krag’s words were exactly what she needed to hear. She had told herself the same thing many times before already. But it was a hard truth to accept. Especially with how hard she cared. It never felt like others cared for her as much as she cared for them. 

One day, she was going to have to accept that.

It seemed like today was that day.

Hannah nodded at Krag as a smile grew on her lips. “Yeah… I agree. Thanks, Krag.”

“A’course.” Krag leaned forward and placed a card on the table, keeping it hidden under his hand. “An’ I’m sure whateva secrets ya got ain’t as bad as ya think, sunshine.” His hand moved away to reveal a card with a depiction of a black hole on it; one of the deadliest cards in the game. “Sorry, by da way, heh.”

Hannah’s eyes went wide for a moment. The twinge she’d been having was starting to feel more and more like the one she’d felt with Hunter earlier. It made her a bit nervous.

A small gleam caught her eye, and she looked down. The smile returned to her face.

“Don’t be,” she said confidently.

Giving Krag the smuggest look she could muster, Hannah placed her shining star card on the table. Krag gave a loud groan and fell back against his chair.

“Really?” he exclaimed. “Again?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Hannah responded with a shrug. “The cards just love me.”

Krag’s deflated response was more than enough to send Hannah into a fit of giggles.

*****

By the time the sun was starting to set, Hannah had beaten Krag at enough games that she thought it was an appropriate time to head home. Krag, despite not wanting to see her leave, was more than happy to end his losing streak for the week. He offered her a small bag of the Christophsian sugar crystals that she loved so much as her reward to take home, which she happily accepted.

Krag still had one more gift for her though. Something that he was sure would help her feel better.

“Ey! Squeaky!” Krag shouted down the hall. “Bring in da spe-shul box! Da one from da spe-shul room!”

Hannah gave Krag an inquisitive yet amused look. She had come to expect by then that Krag was undoubtedly going to give her things that she most certainly didn’t deserve. Not to mention things that were way too priceless for her to be owning. Things that she could easily resell to get some much needed extra money. But it wasn’t about the monetary worth, not to her. Being a proud gift-giver herself, she knew the true value of a gift was the intent and feelings behind it. Krag’s gifts just happened to always be rare and expensive ones, which was a fun bonus.

“You still got dat nice chain I gave ya?” Krag asked Hannah.

“Oh! Of course!” 

Hannah shifted her scarf to the side so that her chain was visible. Krag’s brow raised as he looked down at it.

“I see ya already stahted fillin’ it up,” Krag mused with a small scoff.

Hannah’s cheeks flushed and she let out an awkward chuckle. “Yeah, Hunter likes to make me stuff to put on it.”

“Oh?” Krag gently fondled the pendants between his fingers as he examined them. “Nice craf’manship. You’re a lucky gal havin’ a paht-nah dat’s so good wit ‘is hands…” He gave Hannah a sly look, which only made her cheeks flush further. 

Suddenly, clattering noises could be heard from the hallway. Less than a minute later, Squeaky emerged from the hall with a small box on top of him, not much bigger than the mug he’d brought in earlier.

“You betta not’ve dropped dis,” Krag said as he picked up the box.

Squeaky squealed and rolled his front half back and forth, like he was shaking his head “no”. Giggles erupted from Hannah, and Squeaky promptly turned around and headed back into the hall.

Krag sighed. “He’s a good droid, just’a bit scatta-brained, ya know?”

Hannah nodded in agreement, but to her, that just made him all the more lovable. Just like her own droid companion.

After taking a moment to make sure the box was still intact, Krag faced Hannah, holding the box close to his chest. “I was plannin’ on saving dis for next Life Day,” he said, tapping a finger on the box. “But well… I tink it’s a good time ta give it to ya now, all things consida’d.” His hand extended out with the box in it towards Hannah. “You’ve earned it.”

Hannah’s eyes looked between Krag and the box several times before she took it from him. She was hesitant in taking it, but as soon as it was in her hands, she felt a slight rush of adrenaline. Whatever was inside was super special; she could tell without even opening it. 

The box was sealed with an intricate lock that had already been opened. It was also a fairly sturdy box for being so small. Hannah figured that there must be some sort of expensive jewelry inside, as Krag was known to give her such things in the past.

Very carefully, Hannah opened the lid of the box. And sure enough, what was inside cast an immediate shimmer across her face. Her eyes went wide, and she could only stare at the object in silence for a moment, pondering what exactly it was.

Inside the box sat a single crystal shard, surrounded by protective material. The crystal was an amber hue, almost turning orange in certain light. A bronze cap was attached to the top, as if it was meant to be worn on a chain. Simply looking at it made more adrenaline rush through Hannah’s system. It was almost too beautiful to touch.

“Ya know what dat is, right?” Krag said, leaning close to Hannah’s shoulder. “You’ve been askin’ for it since da day I met ya, aft’a all.”

Hannah’s brows turned down into a scowl. She should know the answer. It was on the tip of her tongue. Why couldn’t she remember?

“It ain’t da full thing,” Krag continued. “Dose are tough tah find dees days. But I fig’ad you’d appreciate just dah Kyber on it’s own.”

Kyber. She’d heard that word before. In her time researching the Jedi and their ways. 

It wasn’t just any ordinary crystal… it was what the Jedi used to build lightsabers.

Hannah’s breath shuddered, and she nearly lost her grip on the box out of shock. Then she quickly pulled it to her chest, as if she was afraid someone might swoop in and take it from her.

“Krag… how…”

“Nah, nah, nah,” Krag said, wagging his finger. “Neva ask a gift-giva where dey got dere gifts from… or how much dey cost.”

As Hannah continued to press the box protectively to her chest, she felt a slight warmth coming from the box. She looked down and swore she saw a brief glow coming from the crystal. Hesitantly, she reached inside and pulled the crystal out to hold it. Sure enough, the warmth she felt before was now in her hands, and the crystal began to give off a dull glow.

“Huh,” Krag said curiously. “Neva seen it do dat before.”

Hannah quickly put the crystal back into the box and shut the lid. She held the box close to her chest again, hoping Krag wouldn’t notice how her hands were shaking.

“I don’t deserve this,” she squeaked out.

“Sure ya do,” Krag answered as he reassuringly put a hand on her shoulder. “Cause I said ya do.” His hand drifted to her chin, and he gently tilted her face up to look at him. “Now, ya gotta promise me dat you’ll always keep dis thing on ya from now on. Don’t let it outta ya sight. And don’t let nobody try and take it from ya. A’right?”

All the emotions Hannah was feeling in that moment rendered her speechless. She could only respond by nodding her head with a big sniffle as a tear began to fall down one of her cheeks. Then, still keeping the box in one hand, she wrapped an arm around Krag in the biggest hug she could muster. Krag responded by chuckling, and he enveloped her entire body with all four of his arms. It was one of the best hugs Hannah had ever received in her entire life.

And it was impossible to tell if the warmth in her chest was from pure emotion or the little amber crystal sitting in the box she still held tightly to her chest.

[libidomechanica]

But those

Let it streaming floods of comfort?     Could stand, the list of the Eternity. How near the many     he; nay! In the rest, I go, what it seem but all her     to gain. The luminous cheerful institute of my life’s     oblivion, there while

amid the Fields are for May: and     you have flowers along. To match her fading throng why did     see a child upon the rest, reclined palm a whispers breast,     when I moved on his other five bare; here be yet tis a     train o’ the splendour on

her cell, the lucid pannels; then     ye Spirits walk’d in vain, confesse, the Drops to be foremost     files of careening I stood around thy season did not     lament of her wants of Air. As Albion was left the     end of echoes, and kiss,

and wrap me in your regular     leather in the works of friendly face brightness wave? And if     we were dead! There before these things and thousand Wits marriage,     have I doubtful Beam long they by, and a doubt the hard gain’d     your dear a part; a herd-

abandon’d deer, o’er the Foe drew     on, and feel such man’s heart, though he forming me back that dances     on a sprights be in love is true a prophecy; for     so long, thou waste her sad! With golden dream; yet, we’ll undress     the morrow, is not I

then, warm with a bastard shall be     its Honour feature? Ye shall breath, my dear, I’ll see numbers     changed here Wake, melancholy Spring a youth, alone, so     let th’ inferior stepping arms. Was it will I     see these or a seasons

drawn his aim: beside.—Middle of     earth for honour of that faire, now, if there its rosy template     and white, and pleasure some one near, had reach, what, dost some     dire a vertue, I comming, and I will not clear. Twice as     thou art just as my should

be wroth and brushed again; my soul     out of saucy boys brake on stroke and Jove hath breathe and wisely     choose to breath was fiery-short sweet bird; go tell me     good they never these, tho’ Honour, and brings To taste Bohea!     Enough now, dies. Men, Monkies,

Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish’d; other     doth not squeeze her the girl: and awful Beauties to     Belinda’s Law, or sicken to her devotion came. Of the     record of Langley-dale; his sunlight as features, or seem’d     that Benedictions guide.

Glowing the gentleness lies, and     leaving her breast recall; for his level—No! Wild night, that     for truth the trodden paths of pleased her alms from his graves are     common Weapon from broadcast of him, wept her none regards,     and over the ill omens

of th’ all-beauteous stare!     And Beautiful angel soul, in narrow views, the windshield     him there smooth floundering lies. And Lovers blow. And sea and     strikes on a wood, and the Mists in vain your liberal and seated     easier growing

wells with her trim prepare you—she’s     come if her what does it was brought shade of a saints I see     Calliope speede her person whose or a kiss that his     burning of others are due to the eyes sustain her blotted     by Angel guards my

way, that harder to drop on a     hollow shows when, like a mayden Queen, with terrific glare,     love in death was fierce that supreme degrees a purer life.     By all delights the wrath I bear my dusky melancholy     Sprights bright, and scant, I’ll

not take, break like Citron-Waters     for it was near: so as some wildness of youthful Highland     lassie, O. Her vain lost invites, burns in Pennsylvania,     nearly noon: I pored up, and one keen’—but almost things. What’s     heritage, let tears, instead

of peaceful Ease, and her, speak     as young man’s Angel guards you, that grandma’s little time to     thrust in Air, And I linger on the pale blossom at my     door is barr’d with the Mark, an’ me that musike giue. She world’s     coarse to splendorous, sinking

earthly dunghill is child so     soon elate! Forgotten you know’st the turn’d his Ends. And all     the Past gone, seize it, in Dream has long she wrung his loved in     the abandon’d deer stress a great greatest complete,—I trust     since whan the mournful rise

that’s her sweet with busy brain: woman     take your leisure! Farewell that bloody stroke on us     at my foes choke the tears, led by their sweet wide, the crevice     peer’d and stirred. By this refused along the goat-legged buyers     that was that well; let Prude,

or caus’d his Arts, and wanton air     dangled without dislike our joy: tis many I knew her     child short fevered grew hush; the bright is only to death; but     not upon a light unused stay from flowers that song from     mortal breath who hast thee.

[thinkingofausername]

The black year (a snippet)

(CHECK THE TAGS)

Three hundred and sixty five days. Three hundred and sixty five bodies. Three hundred and sixty five graves. 

“The black year” ended five days ago, we hoped, having witnessed no new grief. They do say there’s a calm before the storm, but we’ve already drowned. Everyone walks grimy, shaky, frantic. We’re like beaten and starved alley cats, though we live in boarded homes. To think we brought refugees in, thinking the safe and warm star would shine for us when it’s died for others. If we survive and bring back the green, kids will be playing in a graveyard. If people ever forget the earth will remember. 

“The reapers” are unseen. We’ve had to bury everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. 

I keep saying “we” even though I’ve left them. They barely speak of me. Why mention a coward? So many killings and tears and survivors and I jumped off a roof. Some stupid, hopeful part of me thought I could find something on the other side and help the people home. I thought I was being brave, going where the reapers may reside. 

I haven’t met anyone. You’d think it would be crowded here. 

I see them all differently now. I think I’d keep watching over them even if they hated me. I don’t think they do now. Some are even jealous. I think some miss me. 

They’re such fighters. They don’t think they are, they think they’re still alive by chance only, but I see it. They don’t want to die, they want to see better days, even when it feels the world’s got nothing kind left to give. 

I talk to myself a lot. Used to, before, as well. I always tried to make my words, even thoughts, sound nice. I believe it matters how we speak. Stories are all that’s left of many people. 

People always told me I couldn’t make my life a story. I should’ve listened. This story isn’t nice. 

I’m not of flesh anymore. Perhaps I’m closer to the heavens and the wind. Maybe they’ll hear me. I want to talk about the people at home. 

Abigail. She’s the golden girl, the achiever, the one everyone has a crush on, and the one who gets beaten at home. Beneath the bright silky locks and the ribbon around her neck there are prints of a hand. 

Constance. She grew up in a brothel then turned to religion. She makes the best cherry pie. She doesn’t live in the brothel anymore, but she still goes there to help the girls. She doesn’t stay for long. Her thoroughly covered skin still aches and remembers and her chest feels too tight in that house. 

Cody. He’s one of the refugees. He’s the sweetest little thing. Always looks sad. Has the biggest eyes and his very rare smile is tiny and guilty. He really likes apricots. He’s always in that dirty blue sweater. 

Winston. A big, dark man. Gruff. Drinks, sells guns. He lost his wife and little girl, his only child, to the reapers. His hair is long and tangled and his empty eyes used to be the most beautiful thing his wife had ever seen. The smile lines on his face mock him. 

Benny and Teddy. The ginger twins, jokers and secret geniuses. Their granny is terrifying. Her daughter birthed the boys when she was still very young and the father of the boys was never of much help. Granny chased him off. When her daughter died she took the boys in and wouldn’t let the wind touch them. 

Curt. A rich daddy’s boy. He acts like a jerk, but he lost his little sister and his mother hasn’t spoken since. I think something happened to him when he was younger. You don’t come out of summer camp flinching.

Darcy. I saw her once and I fell in love. She has really short bangs, the left half of her hair is shorter than the right. Big brown eyes and thin lips. She hates crowds and loves animals. Her dad’s a preacher. He drinks and talks to his dead wife every night. 

Lila. She’s my sister. She’s so beautiful and smart. Her hair and eyes can’t decide if they’re brown or red or violet. She paints really well. I regret what I did mostly because of her. Our parents have been gone since we were kids. I hate that she’s alone now. 

I could talk about them forever, but I’m getting tired. Do ghosts even get tired? Am I a ghost? Oh well…

There used to be so much glass. Even on people’s clothes. We’d all obsessively look at reflective things around us, hoping to see the danger coming. Glass, wood, mud. Like a mirror thrown onto a field. 

We soon found out reapers are ignored by mirrors. We’d clean the bloodied glass and the next person would wear it. I guess we hoped. 

We got worn out after a while. The glass got heavy, the blood was mocking us. 

The mirrors don’t see me either. I started thinking reapers were like me and they went crazy. I almost sympathized, I thought I’d feel less lonely. 

to be continued…

[jungkxook]

—moonstruck. (m)

⟶ pairing: taehyung x reader

⟶ genre: werewolf!taehyung au / arranged marriage au / smut with a sprinkle of fluff

⟶ words: 7,421

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: in hindsight, being friends with a pack of werewolves and, thus, suddenly being thrown into a world of supernatural furries and other inhuman beings isn’t something you would recommend but it was too late to back out now, especially when you consider the fact that apparently you’re now being “hunted” and the only way to save you is to be mated with taehyung. whatever that means.

⟶ warnings: multiple smut scenes, first time (virgin!taehyung), clumsy sex, soft and gentle sex, sort of rough sex, all the sex, cunnilingus, riding, hair pulling, knotting, buckets of cum, biting kink, slight impregnation kink, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ disclaimer: first fic back after a long hiatus and i’m suddenly v nervous to post this!! also this is shamelessly and 100% inspired by an episode of the show outlander (to be exact, the wedding episode). i couldn’t help myself!! 

“Are you serious right now?”

In hindsight, being friends with a pack of werewolves and, thus, suddenly being thrown into a world of supernatural furries and other inhuman beings isn’t something you would recommend but it was too late to back out now, especially when you consider the fact that apparently you’re now being “hunted.” Whatever that means.

Had you heard yourself speak a year ago before meeting Taehyung and having your life turned upside down, you would have surely thought you were insane, and you would have definitely thought Taehyung is insane, and the rest of his friends who are, subsequently, now yours ━ each of whom are all currently splayed out before you in Namjoon’s spacious country-side home with similar grave looks staring back at you.

“Dead serious,” Hoseok takes the liberty of breaking the odd silence saturating the kitchen. He’s made it a point to be on time for once, which you consider great and all if it wasn’t basically to dispute your current death sentence. “Always thought Jaebum’s pack were sons of bitches ━ glad to know it’s still true.”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi scolds. “Be a little more compassionate.”

“Am I wrong?” Hoseok refutes.

From off to the side, Jimin pushes himself forward with a frustrated groan, shaking his head. “Tae, I told you this was a dumb fucking idea ━ bringing Y/N into the pack━”

“I didn’t think this would happen,” Taehyung protests hotly. He’s leaning against the wall somewhere behind you, arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown darkening his face.

“How could you not think this would happen?” Jungkook retorts bitterly.

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“She’s a human,” Jungkook says. “Jaebum wants her gone, but if he were to get his hands on her, then who knows what could happen━”

“I said shut up, Jungkook,” Taehyung snarls, an odd vehement tone dripping from his every word that is out of the place for the usually tranquil boy. Jungkook’s mouth clamps shut at once, though you suspect it’s not to do with defeat more so than because he’s the newest addition to the pack and, while Namjoon is their leader (or Alpha, as you’ve heard being thrown around before), Taehyung was something of a second-in-command. You could only imagine the consequences of crossing either Namjoon or Taehyung within the pack.

“Hold on a second,” You try to sputter for air, lungs wheezing. Your mind has since been spinning, struggling to keep up. At first you thought they were joking when they had told you, but now you were beginning to understand the severity at the very least. “I’m being hunted? Why?”

Now, Namjoon looks from Taehyung, then to you, and back again. Taehyung hesitates to answer at first, and Jungkook scowls. “Well, tell her, Tae. You dragged her into this mess. She deserves to hear it from you.”

As you twist in your seat to look up at Taehyung, your eyes locking briefly with his, the boy grimaces and then has to look away. He takes a deep breath before responding. “Okay, look. You know that pack I told you about? Jaebum’s?”

You nod, though the memory is vague. You’ve heard the name in passing before, but you could only gather that there was some sort of animosity between his and Taehyung’s pack.

“He found out about you, and I don’t know how,” Taehyung explains. “And now he wants you gone, and he’ll do anything to see it through.”

You blink once, dumbfounded. Terrified, even. Taehyung can certainly hear it in your voice and it makes him flinch again, as if being striked across the face. “Why?”

“Because you’re not one of us,” Taehyung says. “Because you’re human. When I first told you about us, I was risking everything. It’s uncommon for one of us to bring a human into the pack just because, and often even frowned upon. There’s a fear you’ll expose us to the human world or the hunters. Jaebum’s threatening to start war if we don’t deal with this situation ourselves.”

It’s only then that the dread begins to creep upon you, chilling you to the bone. “Deal with it… how?”

“The ultimatum is either kill you ourselves, or give you over to Jaebum to deal with, as a sort of peace offering,” Namjoon says carefully.

“Which probably also results in death,” Hoseok points out morbidly.

Jin scoffs. “Or worse.”

“Is there any option that doesn’t result in death?” You ask warily. At this, the group falls silent once more.

“Well, there is one.” Namjoon glances fleetingly around at his brethren, then sighs. “You become one of us.”

“I━” You stammer, face suddenly hot. “You mean, like, a werewolf?”

“I mean, a wedding.”

“A wedding?” You gasp. “How is that going to save me?”

“Not a wedding like you think,” Namjoon says. “More of a bonding. A handfasting. Right now, as a human, you’re vulnerable and exposed. We have no claim over you. But if you become one of us ━ without being turned ━ then Jaebum shouldn’t be able to touch you.”

Slowly, you begin to piece together the fragment of your dilemma. “Marry who?”

A beat of silence passes amongst the group in which time you spot Namjoon nod in the direction of Taehyung’s figure beyond you, a wordless yet clear gesture. Suddenly, a stubborn warmth of a blush pinches at your cheeks. You wonder if they can notice, if Taehyung can notice. You start, “Taehyung━?”

“He offered to be the one,” Namjoon says. “And Jaebum knows Taehyung’s role in the pack. If he knows you’re mated to Tae, Jaebum would be absolutely insane to try and come for you. It’s the only way, Y/N, and it ensures your safety.”

“Marrying Taehyung?” You ask shrilly, voice dangerously thin. “How is marrying Taehyung going to ensure my safety?”

“It’s not just a marriage,” Jimin explains.

But of course you already know this, werewolf laws a strange and intricate jumble of rules that you’ve long since grown accustomed to. When he speaks next, you already know it’s much more than a marriage; and, when he speaks next, you fear you’ve already had your fate decided for you.

“It’s not just a marriage,” Namjoon repeats, matter-of-fact, “because we’re making you Taehyung’s mate.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

You try not to think about it. Admittedly, marrying your friend who you have only known for a year isn’t something you had been expecting. But, as Namjoon had explained it, it wasn’t necessarily a legal unification between you and Taehyung, though you suppose it’s as valid now as any marriage with the ritualistic handfasting ceremony making it official. That, and you favoured living to see another day instead of becoming a werewolf’s next meal or ripped to shreds by one.

Only a day after your conversation with the boys of Taehyung’s pack, you’ve come to your ultimate decision which has led you to where you are now, returning to Namjoon’s home for a wedding. Your wedding. You hadn’t very long to decide your own fate anyway, with the boys grimly warning you it was now or never. But you trust them, despite this crazed ludicrous situation you find yourself in ━ and you trust Taehyung more than anything, your friendship with him having quickly blossomed into something so sincerely profound over the year that you’ve known him.

If you’re being honest, Namjoon’s pack had at least made an effort for the occasion because despite how unconventional it is, it was still a celebration. A celebration for your marriage, and a celebration for their hopeful victory over Jaebum. Still, the underlying threat of the evening remains, made more prevalent by the fact that it was required to invite at least another pack (of which you’ve met the leader, Jisoo, a handful of times before) as witnesses. It’s a simple ceremony too, quaint and cute if you weren’t clinging to life. You had made it a point to dress up, digging a pretty white dress from the depths of your closet with flowing butterfly-like sleeves; Taehyung had forgone a suit but was still handsomely dressed too, leaving you to feel like less of an idiot. Namjoon had officiated it, standing before you and Taehyung as you held one another’s hand, wrapped delicately in ribbon, listening to the vows being proclaimed that talked about true love, and the passion and yearning involved.

When the handfasting finally draws to a close, you’re shoved into a room alone with Taehyung for a moment of privacy by Hoseok, who can be heard quipping wolfishly, “Get it over with quick!” before vanishing behind the closed door. You wager he’s left to join with the rest of the festivities outside where, no doubt, every werewolf is currently drinking themselves blind.

Finally alone with Taehyung, a saturated silence fills the air that has you wringing your hands anxiously in front of you. You sit on the edge of the bed in the center of the room. “What other choice was there, Tae?”

Taehyung takes a moment to respond, and even he knows the thought is a useless one when it crosses his mind before voicing it aloud. “We could have ran away.”

“How far would we get?” You sigh. Still, the sorrow earnest in his voice and riddling his face is enough to make you look up at him sympathetically. “I’m no use to you if Jaebum or someone worse finds us by ourselves. Besides, the boys need you.”

“No, you need me,” Taehyung insists. “Jungkook’s right. I dragged you and the pack into this mess. It’s my responsibility to fix this.”

He drags his feet towards the bed, then flops down onto his back on the mattress. A troubled groan punctuates the air, and you sneak a glance behind you to see him rubbing warily at his eyes.

You decide now would be the best time to ask the one question that has been on your mind since the night before when you were sitting in Namjoon’s kitchen to discuss Jaebum’s scorn. “Is that why… Is that why you offered to be my mate?”

“Yes,” Taehyung admits meekly. “Sort of. Think we’d all rather it be me than Joon, anyway.”

You don’t argue with this. The reasons as to why it had to be Taehyung satisfied you well enough. That, and aside from having befriended the pack over the months, you’re much closer to Taehyung than you are with the others.

“So…” You trail off, clearing your throat. At this point, you’re simply speaking for the sake of filling the void. “What now?”

Taehyung shrugs. He looks around the room. “Nothing.”

“Well, what did Hoseok mean just now? Get what over with?”

“Erm━” Taehyung opens his mouth, as if preparing to explain, then decides otherwise. “It’s nothing.”

“Taehyung, we literally just got married and you’re already keeping secrets from me,” You retort. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he insists. “It’s just that… Well…” He sits up from the bed, meeting your curious gaze. “This was essentially a mating, and every mating needs to be seen through to the end to be considered valid. The pack can tell when it’s… uh… done.”

Oh.

Now it hits you. It’s the way he awkwardly trails off, hand ruffling through his long locks, that has you immediately understanding what he’s trying to imply. You gawk upward at him. “Are you asking me to sleep with you?”

Suddenly, Taehyung looks flustered and he shakes his head frantically. “I mean, they expect it, but I would never force it on you.” Then, he straightens up, as if captivated by a newfound confidence. The smallest of smirks dances upon his lips that you don’t miss. “Besides, I never said it had to be between you and me. As long as they can sense it, I’d say your hand would do just fine instead ━ but you have all night for that.”

“Oh my god.”

The smirk widens into a devious look now. “You said you wanted honesty.”

As he dissolves into a fit of stifled chuckles, you scowl but you wager it’s mostly an attempt to hide the frazzled look on your face. Then, hurrying to change the topic, ask, “Is every mating like that then?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung admits. “If two mates want to stay together forever, they complete the process with marking, usually by a bite. It strengthens the mating bond.”

Taehyung notices you squirm in your spot, crossing your knee over the other and squeezing your thighs together. He can sense you’re uncomfortable, understandably with your current situation, but can’t quite pinpoint what else seems to make you sit so rigidly.

“What was it like for you?” He decides to ask. “The handfasting?”

The question takes you by surprise, though his sincere intrigue makes you smile smally to yourself. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before, but it was… It was nice.” You think back to nearly an hour ago, and the way Taehyung had looked standing before you. While you were marrying him out of necessity, there was something candidly beautiful about the entire ceremony. At the very least, you were glad it had been with Taehyung of all people. “Can I be honest with you, Tae?”

“Of course,” Taehyung says. “At this point, you can pretty much tell me anything. Don’t think anything’s as shocking as coming out as a werewolf.”

An innocent giggle bubbles at your throat. Suddenly, you look sheepish. “I might have had one too many glasses of wine before coming.”

“Ah.” Despite the interested hum of noise, he looks genuinely entertained. “So you’re drunk?”

“Not quite. Pleasantly buzzed,” You say. “Well, can you blame me? The occasion called for it considering a bunch of wolves want to kill me and I’m being arranged into a marriage.”

“So you don’t remember anything about your own wedding?”

You pull a face, though Taehyung gathers it’s because of the blunt mention of the word. “I do. Just… not all of it. Some things are clearer than others, but I think that’s mostly because I was nervous.”

“I remember every moment,” Taehyung muses thoughtfully. “I remember seeing you there, in your dress, and everything felt right despite it all.” His stare hardens in that moment, as if probed by the harsh reminder of the reasoning behind the night in the first place. “You know I’ll do anything to keep you safe, right? We haven’t had time to sit back and talk it over but you really do mean the world to me.”

A muffled groan eclipses your lips. You dig the heels of your palms against your eyes as you bemoan, “Don’t say those kinds of things, Tae.”

“Why?”

“Because… Because…” Your eyes shoot open, though suddenly you refuse to meet his curious wandering gaze.

But Taehyung doesn’t even need you to finish your thought. You wonder if it’s one of the many keen abilities possessed by these shapeshifters or if it’s simply a Taehyung thing, being that he’s quickly become one of your closest friends over the year that you’ve known him.  

“You’re still nervous,” he hums as delicately as possible. It’s not an accusation, but a simple fact of the matter. He pushes himself to sit on the edge of the bed beside you, leaving an appropriate amount of space between the two of you. “Are you nervous because of me?”

“No.”

“That’s a lie,” Taehyung snorts. When you don’t respond immediately, a small inkling of a doubt makes him question apprehensively, “Are you scared of me then? I wouldn’t blame you, especially after everything that’s been going on━”

“What?” You finally turn to look at him, a look of incredulousness contorting your face. “No! No, I’m not scared of you, Tae. I could never be scared of you.” You don’t dare turn to face him, instead keeping your eyes fixed on your hands as you continue. “You make me nervous, but not in a bad way. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” When you chance a look at him, you find him smiling softly to himself. “It’s the same way I felt when I saw you earlier tonight.”

Your heart quickens in pace against your chest, and you’re almost positive he can surely hear it. Now, you finally lift your timid stare to meet his pensive look, and you have to bite back the smile that threatens to form on your face. He looks distracted, though not in a way where his mind is elsewhere entirely; instead, he seems besotted, dark eyes shimmering gently, and there’s a palpable shift of energy in the atmosphere.

Without even realizing it, the pair of you begin to gravitate towards one another, leaning in close enough to shorten the distance between the two of you. You pause, lingering near enough to feel his warm breath fanning against your neck. He can’t help himself, and reaches out with his hand to brush his fingers along your shoulder to the base of your throat, sending chills down your spine. His hand comes to rest against your neck, fingers stretching outward to cradle the back of your head. He guides you toward him this time, closer and closer.

“Taehyung…” You whisper.

He stops at once, clamps his mouth shut and squeezes his eyes closed. His restraint seems to be not without labour, judging by the sobering small shake of his head, and the way he leans his forehead against yours, tendons in his jaw fluttering as he clenches his teeth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t.”

“I want you to.”

He’s startled when you’re the one that moves first, catching his lips onto yours. He’s unmoving at first, basking in the feel and taste of your mouth smoothing over his. It’s slow, steady, but then he’s craning his neck to deepen the kiss and something feverish overtakes the both of you. You clamber onto his lap at once, swinging one leg over his and settling back onto him, your dress bunching up at your thighs. He’s taken aback for a moment, though his hands instinctively come to grip at your waist and you try not to focus on how large and warm they feel, burning against the material of your dress. In fact, every inch of him radiates a thermal energy that is both comforting and excites you. You chase his lips, yearning for another kiss, but he hesitates at the last moment, jerking his head away. He doesn’t move very far at first, then he drops his head into the crook of your neck. His nose burrows against the base of your throat, his lips brushing against your skin as he moves along your neck to your shoulder, then back again. You can tell he’s holding himself back, not quite allowing himself to enjoy this. To enjoy you.

“You said we have all night, didn’t you?” You rasp. “So why not start now?”

“I also said it didn’t have to be between you and me if you didn’t want it to be.” Taehyung finds his voice at long last, however hoarse it may be. You’re already driving him crazy, just by your smell alone. “Are you sure? You said you wanted honesty, so be honest with me, Y/N. Don’t just say it’s because it has to be done. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“Well, don’t you want this?” You question.

“Fuck, yes.” He groans against your neck. Something feral seems to stir within him, and you can feel his canines bare against your skin. “But only if you do.”

You aren’t quite sure what seems to possess you all of a sudden. He’s intoxicating, you think. Your hands tug at his hair now, desperation wearing your own voice thin. “Yes, Tae. Please. I want you inside me so badly.”

Finally, he presses his mouth against your throat, tonguing hot open-mouthed kisses there. His grip tightens around your waist, tugging you harder against him, and the feeling of him growing harder against your inner thigh in a matter of seconds has you both enraptured by a newfound heated ferocity.

Grasping at a moment of clarity, you ask meekly, “Isn’t this your first time?”

“Is it that obvious?”

You want to tell him anything but, the way his hands and lips move across you an indicator of that. “I thought you wolves are all about sex. Don’t you, like, go into heat or something?”

It’s a feeble attempt at a snarky joke, judging by the way your lips unfurl into a languid smirk. “Typically. But I never wanted sex for the sake of fucking. The boys make fun of me all the time for it.”

You snicker, but the delightful noise is lost in a simper as he continues to kiss upward to the underside of your jaw. He grips tightly at your waist and moves, shifting the two of you around, until your back is splayed out on the edge of the bed and he’s hovering directly over you.

“Taehyung…” He grunts in response, though you don’t blame him for not responding. The way his cock bulges against your core now, the way you press your hips up into his instinctively, is enough to drive you insane, let alone the boy. Still, you manage to rasp, “Tae, just don’t bite me. Promise me.”

“I won’t,” he assures, though now he certainly seems preoccupied. He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring, and whines aloud, “God, I can already smell you. So fucking good.”

His head falls into the crook of your neck as his hips dig harshly into yours in a way that makes you aware of what his words seem to mean. Slick arousal already begins to form between your legs, pooling into a mess on your underwear that has you squirming beneath him. The thought of him being able to smell you makes your face heat, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He kisses down to your collarbones, then, without warning, flips you over at once. Rough hands grasp at your waist, pulling you to your knees and your ass off the edge of the bed. As he fumbles to tear your panties from your hips, then lifts the skirt of your dress up with one hand, he hurries to undo his belt and the button of his pants with the other.

“Wait, Tae━” You gasp. Before he can push himself into you, you heave yourself up with your hands and twist just enough to place your palm above his waist on his abdomen, stopping him in his place. “What are you doing?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, brows creasing with concern. “Isn’t this how it’s done? I’m not totally helpless.”

You bite back your abrupt grin, swallowing your amusement when you realize he’s genuinely confused. It’s hard to grasp how he can look so innocent even despite his leaking cock still in his hand. “Well, yeah, but not always.”

“I just thought it was like how dogs go at it, y’know?” Taehyung says. “The guys all seem to say so anyway.”

You can’t help it now when this newfound information has you keeling over with laughter. You’re fortunate he doesn’t seem offended by your delight, instead grinning sheepishly to himself as he watches you wipe tears away from your eyes.

“What?” he asks promptly, and then as if to nudge you back to reality, tightens his grip on your waist and yanks you towards him gingerly. Pressing his front flush against your back, he catches your ear lobe between his teeth and nibbles on it.

“Then I feel sorry for their mates,” You manage to choke out. “It’s not bad, but I want to be able to see you the first time around. It’s better that way. More intimate.”

You squirm out from beneath him, turning to face him properly. Still sprawled out before him, you prop yourself up on your elbow and then reach out with your other hand to grab at his face and pull him down to you.

“Noted,” he hums into your mouth. “Anything else I should know?”

“Nothing that I can think of at the moment,” You admit, though maybe that’s simply because your mind is spinning at the sight of his length.

He’s much, much bigger than you imagined, tip irritated and swollen red already, glistening with precum as he swipes his palm over himself a handful of times. You hike your dress up further around your waist as he guides himself towards you.

“Stop me if it hurts,” he says.

You nod, though you trust him well enough to know he’ll treat you right in the best way possible. As he pushes the tip of his length against your folds and into you, your reactions are almost immediate. He ceases above you, face scrunching up at the feeling of your slickness around him. You notice his furrowed brows, the way he bares his teeth. A guttural growl sounds deep within his chest that has you shuddering in anticipation.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans. “You’re so fucking wet. You take me so well, baby. I don’t think I’ll last long.”

“Don’t care,” You whimper. “Just wanna feel you.”

He pushes himself in further, slowly and carefully, inch-by-inch, in just a way that has the both of you feeling how he stretches you open every single step of the way. You wonder how much further you can go until he’s stopping, bottoming out within you. He sputters for air, collapsing against your chest entirely as you fall back onto the bed. He waits just enough for you to adjust to the girth of his weight in you, then rolls his hips into yours. Then again, and again, until he’s grinding into you with such measured and deep strokes that you melt beneath him entirely. You kick your legs up to wrap around his waist, head lolling back at the feeling of his mouth sucking against your throat.

“I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off then into an abrupt cry. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum━”

He’s quick to dissolve into shambles, grunting and moaning every time you clench around him and every thrust of his hips. Just when you think you’ve lost yourself to the moment, he cums much faster than you thought and entirely unexpected for him too, in hot waves that have you still writhing beneath him. When he’s spent, his weight falls slack against you, crushing you beneath him but in a comforting manner. It’s silently peaceful for a few moments as he settles, heart thundering in his chest and against yours. Your fingers smooth over his sweaty long locks, scratching at his head. Then━

“That was terrible, wasn’t it?” he mutters wretchedly.

“Not terrible,” You confess. “What was that? Three minutes, top? For your first time, I’m honestly surprised you lasted more than a minute.”

“Fuck off.” His fingers poke at your sides teasingly as you burst out into laughter. He lifts his head to meet yours, perhaps a little embarrassed. “Don’t tell the guys. They’ll never let me live it down.”

“Doesn’t matter,” You hum, tracing your finger down to his lips. “We can practice whenever you want. I’ll make you into a lover so good, you’ll want me to brag to them.”

“Practice, huh?” His eyes sparkle mischievously. He pulls himself from your core and you hiss at the sudden loss, tugging at his chest as if to keep him close to you but he seems to have other plans. “Why stop now?”

You watch him curiously. “Easy there, boy. Don’t wear yourself out.”

“Well, I have to make it up to you,” he points out. “Especially on your wedding night. It’s only fair. What kind of lousy mate would I be to call it a night without having you cum on my face?”

“Romantic.” You roll your eyes but you marvel at the way you had shuddered at the word only moments ago and now, under such a different circumstance, the way he utters it makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Is this the first time you’ve eaten a girl out?”

“I said I was a virgin,” he says. Your eyes stay trained on the boy as he shifts himself further down your body to wedge himself between your thighs, throwing one leg over his shoulder. He kisses at your navel, then down to your core. He takes his time as he reaches out with his fingers to swipe at your folds, admiring the way his cum leaks from you; then, with his forefinger, he wipes at a stray bead of his arousal and pushes it back into your cunt slowly. The simple action is enough to have your back arching off the bed, hands flying out to brace yourself by gripping at his hair. “I never said I didn’t know how to please a woman elsewhere.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Gladly.”

He sinks lower to your core and out of sight, leaving hot open mouthed kisses along the way. His finger never once leaves its spot within you, and instead is joined by another that spreads you wide in absence of his cock.

“Do you know how hard it is to focus on anything other than your beautiful cunt?” he asks, voice low and sultry. “From the moment I could smell you, I wanted a taste.”

His tongue probes against your clit, the wet muscle a sudden startle that has you slackening against him. He flicks it back and forth, mouth wrapping around the bundle of nerves and sucking hard. A moan threatens to fall from your lips but an intrusive thought crossing your mind has you swallowing it with much difficulty.

“Can’t the boys hear us from down there?” You ask. You wonder how the celebration for your “wedding” has unfolded over the night without you or Taehyung there, or if they even notice your prolonged absence.

“No.” His voice is a deep mumble, rattling you from your core outward. “We learn how to tune out sounds nearby unless we really want to pay attention. The new ones struggle a bit, though.”

He curls his fingers inside you, stretching them upward. You pant, “Isn’t Jungkook still new?”

You can feel his smirk unfurling against you even before he pokes his head up to look at you with devious, hooded eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s a bit of a hazing process.”

You hardly have time to register the thought, though it doesn’t matter much. You’re far too overwhelmed by the way Taehyung is making you feel to even care. He drops his mouth from your clit to your folds, tongue swirling against your aching core. He laps at your cunt like a mangy dog as his fingers continue to work within you. The further he burrows into you, the harder his nose digs against your clit and sends you over the edge. You try to hold on just a little longer but your core is already achingly sensitive from when his length had made it home.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs. “Don’t hold back, baby. Let me taste you.”

Fingers twisting in his hair, he growls roughly against you, basking in the way you mewl and moan his name. Time seems to blur and, before you know it, you’ve reached your high. You’re embarrassingly wet, soaking his chin and nose which glistens with a mixture of yours and his arousal. Taehyung doesn’t hold back, instead licking you clean of every last drop, a muffled moan of content emitting from him.

“So good,” he says. “All mine.”

When he finally pulls away from you, he licks at his lips as if not quite finished with your every taste. From where he sits, you’re an entire mess, brows scrunched in concentration, teeth tugging at your lower lip. Needy hands yank at his hair and he obliges, kissing his way up your body to meet your mouth. His tongue pokes through to lav at your lips and wedges itself beyond, and you suck delightfully at the taste of you and him mingling on it. His own hands caress your body, bringing you back down from your high gradually but you can still feel his straining dick against your thigh and it invigorates you even further despite the beginning hints of exhaustion starting to creep upon you.

“Want more,” Taehyung growls with a newfound intensity, catching you off guard. “Need your cunt. M’gonna make it mine. Need to make you mine. Gonna fill you with my cum till you’re bursting with my pups, how does that sound?”

Mind spinning, you nod eagerly at the thought. Your words form in the shape of a moan. “Yes, please.”

“Gotta get this dress off first,” he mutters, greedy palms wandering up beneath the hem of your dress.

You scurry to obey, helping him slide the dress off your arms and toss it away on the floor. He’s more than pleased to see that you had decided to forgo wearing a bra earlier in the day, and reaches out at once to grasp at your perked breasts in his large palm. He buries his face into your chest, catching one of your nipples between his teeth. He busies himself by marking your chest red with small nibbles until you grow impatient, tugging at the shirt he’s still wearing. He’s quick to oblige, shedding himself of his clothes; then, his nails are digging viciously into your hips as he flips the two of you over with incredible ease.

“Sit on my cock,” he snarls into your ear. “Need to feel you again.”

Legs weak from your past orgasm and the huskiness of his voice, you sidle onto his lap, tossing one thigh over his. He sits up to join you and helps push himself past your folds, though you finish by settling back on his length carefully until you’re filled to the brim. Despite already knowing what to expect from the first time around, you still shudder at the feeling, mouth unhinging as you roll your hips leisurely against his. He hardly strays from your body, instead continuing to kiss between the valley of your breasts and up to the underside of your jaw and back again. Fingers poke and prod at your body as they follow his lips, then grasp at your ass to push you closer to him each time you grind against him.

Just when you begin grinding against him in a new angle that makes you moan into his ear, a sudden noise startles the both of you but only just. It takes you both a moment to register it’s the sound of knocking on the other side of the bedroom door (that you can’t remember if Taehyung had locked, because you certainly hadn’t), followed by Jimin’s familiar voice. “Joon said he wanted us to check in on you!”

Taehyung immediately groans into your neck out of frustration, though you suspect it’s because your pace starts to stutter and not because of his bothersome friends.

“Taehyung,” You bite at your lip in an attempt to hide your moans. You tug at his hair, as if to portray what your words fail to do, but he can hear it plainly riddling your voice. The concern, and the sudden shyness, as if fearing Jimin may walk in. But part of you is thrilled at the thought, and judging by the way your unabashed cry of glee slips from your lips without much hiding is proof of that. “Oh, Tae━”

“Shit,” Taehyung’s muffled grunts of pleasure and the way his hips continue to dig into yours to meet your efforts makes you aware Jimin is the least of his current troubles. “Fucking hell━ Don’t stop.”

“Are you guys okay in there?” Now comes Hoseok’s voice, a little faint but undeniably there. Can they hear you? Do they care? They must know what’s happening beyond the door.

“They’re doing it on purpose. Fucking idiots,” Taehyung snarls as he slams his hips up into yours. A contented whimper falls from your mouth, and you cling to him tighter as you quicken your pace. Taehyung grabs at your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes fixed on him despite wandering to the door. “Look at you fucking yourself on me still even with them listening. Such a good girl, huh? So desperate for my cock, aren’t you? Gonna breed so well.”

You think Hoseok and Jimin give up and leave at some point, though you don’t recall when. Instead, in the next moment, something primitive seems to awaken in Taehyung once more and he’s shoving you onto your back on the bed. Kneeling before you, he pummels his hips into yours again and again until you’re only crying his name.

“Mine. All mine,” he growls. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

So wearied from your first high, you tumble easily to your second, coming undone in a matter of seconds, spurred on by the lewd wet noises of his length thrusting into you.

“That’s it, baby,” he mutters, basking in the sound of your moans. “Fuck━ Let them all know who you belong to━”

But just when you think Taehyung has reached his own orgasm ━ sputtering for air and crescendoing in moans of your names, panting hot breath into your ear as he leans against your chest ━ he doesn’t. His thrusts become desperate and sloppy, bordering on frantic, that the soreness between your legs begins to burn. It’s an amalgamation of stubborn yet bearable pain and something harshly pleasant that has your head lolling back.

“What’s wrong?” You moan, blindly tugging at his hair. “Taehyung?”

“I can’t━” He cries out. “I can’t━ I’m so fucking hard, it hurts. I don’t know what’s wrong━”

Confused yet too tired to keep up, you reach out to smooth your fingers across his back. “It’s okay. Just let go, baby. Cum for me, Tae. Please.”

“I’m trying,” he chokes out. “I just can’t━”

Your mind works in a haze to understand what’s happening, but through it all you’re able to discern one reasonable thought. What had Taehyung said about matings and bonds? Aside from the obvious of sleeping with a mate, he had said that typically certain bonds require marking. But he had also said that marking proved to be almost irreversible, resulting in a connection so close that a pair of mates would be together forever. It was a troublesome concept to think about, especially when considering you didn’t think you were a fit match for Taehyung if only because you’re human.

But is that what he needed? The physical strain he puts himself under now to reach his high is almost unbearable to watch. So, you settle on a whim of a decision and conclude that you won’t think of any consequences until after the fact, only wanting to see the poor boy in relief.

“Tae,” You whisper. “What if you bite me?”

“I won’t,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. His pace has slowed as he slumps against your chest in nearing defeat. “You told me not to.”

“I don’t care,” You retort. “Just bite me.”

He hesitates, lifting his gaze to look at you. When he sees your earnest zeal, he grimaces as if despising that this is his only option. Still, the look of relief that crosses his face is undeniably there. He presses his mouth against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your flesh as he grazes the smooth expanse for a spot, sharp canines poking against you. You brace yourself for the bite, though the pain isn’t as bad as you had thought. A sharp jolt runs down your spine as he sinks his teeth into your skin, and his reaction is immediate, crumbling into pitiful moans of glory.

“Fuck!” he wails. With one final slam of his hips into yours, he finally reaches his high and it’s unlike anything you have felt before. As if he begins to swell within you, his length pulsates as he cums in you to the point where you can’t help but feel so full. It overflows and leaks from your core and onto the sheets, a sticky mess that lingers even long after he’s done. Your mouth pops open at the foreign feeling, whimpering his name.

“I’m sorry,” he flinches. “I’m sorry, does it hurt?”

“No,” You manage to say. “It just… It feels so good━”

He sluggishly rides out the rest of his high until you both physically can’t take anymore. When he hears you hiss his name in a soft reminder, he apologizes once more. Then, as the room falls oddly silent, he slumps against you. He lavs his tongue over the fresh mark on your neck, the gentle motion alleviating the sting left behind. As Taehyung settles finally, he shifts his head to look up at you. You note the faint yellow hue lingering in his eyes, fading now.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “We might have to stay like this for a while.”

“Can’t say I’m mad about that,” You croon sleepily. “You better draw me a bath after this.”

He laughs, rubbing gentle circles against your hips. “Of course. I’ll do anything for you.”

You believe him wholeheartedly when he says it, smiling against his mouth when he leans in for a kiss. His tender wandering hands over your body does wonders in calming your shrill heart, the stretch between your legs, and the bite on your neck. He nuzzles his face into your collarbones, the tip of his nose tickling against you. As your fingers rake through his hair and scratch at his head, he mewls in content.

“Is it always like that?” You ask through a stifled yawn. “You had so much energy, I could barely keep up.”

“No,” he admits groggily. “It’s only like that when you’re mated with someone.”

“What does that even mean anyway?” You ask. “To be mated with someone?”

“Well, it’s━ It’s not really a conscious decision. It sort of just happens,” Taehyung says. “It’s a connection. You gravitate towards one another. You can’t live without the other. We call it imprinting. Sometimes you’re mated to a person who doesn’t even want you, but those are rare instances.”

“So we’re the exception?”

“I thought we were,” Taehyung trails off now. He finally lifts his head to look at you, perhaps a little embarrassed. “I━ Well━ All of this, and especially the bite, doesn’t just happen ━ and definitely not with humans.”

“Oh.” You blush now, face warming under the boy’s introspective stare. “So you’re saying we’re…”

“I always thought there was a connection, but I didn’t think it meant this,” Taehyung murmurs to himself. “As crazy as it sounds, I think we were meant to be.”

“So the bite…”

You don’t finish your thought, instead already having pieced it together in your mind. It does sound crazy, but even you have felt it before. A strange connection to Taehyung, far more exceptional than simply having feelings for him. And the bite is what draws it all together, proving his point and your previous speculations about some sort of affection between the two of you.  

“Are you starting to regret this now?” Taehyung asks sheepishly, a weak attempt at a joke to what he had asked you earlier in the night.  

He braces himself, as if waiting for your outburst of annoyance or anger. To push him off of you and leave forever. But you do neither, instead reaching out to grasp at his face in both of your hands. You delicately lift his head, meeting his docile stare, entirely and utterly bewitched by him.

“No,” You say earnestly. “I couldn’t have asked for a better night.” A smile forms on his face, innocent and ardent in nature. “I’m just wondering how I’ll hide the mark.”

“I think there’s little to hide now after tonight,” Taehyung grins wolfishly. “Especially with the boys.” 

He quivers with laughter at the sight of your scowling face and fingers poking at his sides. As he settles, he leans into your ear to hum, “I’ll make it up to you. Everything. Jaebum, the bite, the boys. But I think you should rest now. We’ll deal with all of that later.”

You don’t argue with that. You’ve already begun to fight the beginnings of sleep, eyelids drooping and itching with a need to just close them ━ and with Taehyung’s arms wrapped around you, his body emitting a pleasurable heat, you decide there’s no place else you’d rather be, moonstruck and in love.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

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[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Blankets/Shirt Collar Shifting Just Enough To Have Bandages Peeking Out for the H/C prompts?

At first, I had no idea what to do with this, but then when I was brushing my teeth the entire thing just wrote itself <3

Geralt can't stop looking. He's had problems with starting at Jaskier before, but never like this; never with fear in his heart or the taste of bile on his tongue. Never with the knowledge that this will be the last time or very close to it.

But Jaskier's doublet is undone and his shirt ripped, revealing bandages that Geralt wrapped himself; a stark reminder of Jaskier's humanity, of his fragility. He has no place being out here with a witcher or rather, Geralt has no place trying to keep him. All he can offer Jaskier is a broken heart and an early grave.

They don't speak on their way back to town and Jaskier probably thinks Geralt is angry with him. He had acted angry, had been angry with himself for letting anything happen to Jaskier, but he hates that this is the last memory Jaskier will have of him. Geralt grits his teeth because he can never let anything like this happen again.

The inn is big and busy when they enter and all Geralt can think is that it will make it easier for him to slip out unnoticed. He rents a single room - a tiny token he allows himself, to spend one final night with Jaskier - and they make their way silently up to it. Their room is on the third floor and it is still early enough that Jaskier would normally hurry to the window to inspect their view, but he doesn't. He sets his things down and sits on the edge of the bed, carefully pulling off his doublet.

Geralt watches him, aches when he winces and wants so badly to go to him, to help him undress and tuck him into bed. But he doesn't. This is his fault and letting himself have Jaskier now is only going to hurt them both more tomorrow. So he strips mechanically out of his armour and his own clothes, taking extra care to lay them out neatly for the following morning.

When he can delay no longer, he turns to find Jaskier already in bed, turned away to face the wall. Geralt shuts his eyes and sighs softly. This won't be an amicable parting, then. He didn't expect it to be, not really, but he was hoping they might have one final night of normalcy before Geralt returned to the solitude of the path.

He slips into bed next to Jaskier, barely daring to breathe and shuts his eyes.

It's not yet dawn when Geralt wakes. Jaskier has shifted in his sleep, lying on his back with his lips slightly parted. He wrinkles his nose in his sleep and Geralt's stomach drops. He wonders if he'll ever be truly happy again knowing Jaskier is out there somewhere, but not with him.

He slips out of bed quietly, dressing only on his clothes and wrapping his armour for easy transport. He leaves his coin purse on the nightstand. Jaskier has been paying for most of their lodgings lately and it would be cruel for Geralt to leave him alone with nothing.

Geralt makes it to the stables before he breaks down. Emotions too numerous and varied to count boil up within him and he clenches his hands around the reins, forcing back tears. Roach nudges him with her nose, but he can't even bring himself to lift his head.

He doesn't know how long he stands like that before he pulls himself together, but the grey light of morning is creeping across the valley as he rounds the inn. There, sitting on the front steps wrapped in a sheet, is Jaskier. He doesn't stand up, he just looks at Geralt and Geralt feels as though he's been kicked in the stomach.

"You were just going to leave?" Jaskier asks, "After all this time, you were just going to leave without even saying goodbye?"

Geralt opens his mouth to speak, but nothing happens.

"I knew you were mad, but I thought I warranted a goodbye at least. Twenty years, Geralt."

He sounds devastated. Geralt always knew he'd break Jaskier's heart, but he didn't think he'd be around to witness it.

"It's for the best." Geralt says and when he glances up he can see the bandages again, more prominent without clothing in the way.

"For who?" Jaskier snaps, "because it's certainly not for me."

"Maybe you don't see it yet-" Geralt starts, but Jaskier interrupts, rising to his feet and storming over to him - the effect of which is slightly lessened by his rumpled hair and bedsheet.

"Fuck you, Geralt. I tried to save you. I did save you! I almost had to watch you fucking die and this is the thanks I get? I don't fucking think so. I deserve more than being left in the middle of the night. And I know you, I'd never see you again if you didn't want me to."

He reaches out and shoves him and to both their surprise, Geralt stumbles.

"You're right," Geralt says. "You deserve so much more. you deserve a life and you won't have one if I keep dragging you along with me."

"Dragging me-" Jaskier shouts, exasperated, "like there's anywhere else I'd be as happy. Geralt you're a big fucking idiot if you think leaving me is going to make me safe. Because that's what this is about isn't it? I thought you were mad but you're just freaking out because of this-" he grabs Geralt's hand, pressing his palm over the bandages, right above his heart.

Geralt can feel the firm, steady beat of it and he very nearly chokes.

" I'm right here," Jaskier says softly and when Geralt looks up he can see tears welling in his eyes, "right where I've always been." He folds both his hands over Geralt's and the sheet slips around his shoulders.

"Don't go," Jaskier whispers and Geralt breaks.

His knees buckle and he winds up on the ground with Jaskier in his lap, pressing him tightly against his chest. Tears burn the backs of his eyes and he buries his face in Jaskier's hair.

"I almost lost you," he chokes, "what would I do- if you-"

"Shh," Jaskier soothes, petting his hair. "I told you, I'm here. it's going to take a lot more than a fiend to get rid of me."

Geralt makes a small broken sound in the back of his throat and buries his face in Jaskier's neck. It's light before either of them moves and then it's only because Jaskier shivers.

"I'm okay," he insists, but Geralt bundles him back anyway, looking sadly at him. "Please come back to bed," he whispers, "tomorrow I'll book us another day and we can relax, spend the whole day in bed."

Geralt says nothing, but he lets Jaskier pull him to his feet. He follows him to the stable to settle Roach again and then Jaskier takes him back up to bed.

This time, Jaskier curls around him, pulling Geralt's head against his chest. Geralt hates the sight of the bandages, but when he lifts his hand he can feel the strength of Jaskier's heartbeat beneath them. And he focuses on that, that after everything they've been through, Jaskier is still standing strong. That maybe Geralt has more to offer him after all.

[chaos-burst]

questions and answers

He had meant to be rude. And it had not worked even a little bit. Eodwulf is sure that anyone else would have been offended. Hell, he’s even sure that the other members of this weird group were absolutely offended on behalf of their friend. But Eodwulf can’t say he has ever met a person like this.

There was no malice, no ill intent, no anger.

When you work with Trent you have to be aware of every little shift in the mood. The slightest twitch of an eyebrow can mean the weather is about to turn foul. Eodwulf knows what to look out for. It had been his intent to rev this weirdo up and it had backfired spectacularly.

Damn.

No meat. No booze. And balls of steel, apparently. Eodwulf had never seen anyone talk to Trent like that. And while Bren‘s—Caleb‘s—words of wanting to kill Trent outright had been more than Eodwulf would ever admit to his mentor, it somehow felt less crazily reckless than to call Trent Ikithon, Archmage of Civil Influence for the Cerberus Assembly and one of the most powerful mages in the Empire, a fucking fool.

To his face. With a smile. In a complete sincere manner.

Eodwulf doesn’t want to replay the words in his head over and over again but his dumb brain has latched onto them and he can’t stop. Only this time it’s not one of Trent’s lessons that forces him to obsessively repeat something until you have internalized it to the point where you can cite it in your sleep.

No.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people.“

Eodwulf has it on repeat in his head the whole way back to the tower and it is still going when he lies down hours later to sleep.

“What are you“ had not been meant as a serious question when Eodwulf had asked it. But by the time he finally falls asleep he feels like it has become a very vital question indeed, because who or what would dare to speak to Master Trent Ikithon in a way like this with an honest smile on their face.

*

Because for some reason his thoughts have decided to betray him, Eodwulf’s brain makes his tongue and lips form the words again when they see the Mighty Nein the next time. This time, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited to dinner—Trent has very specifically not been invited, you could say he was uninvited with quite a few flowery words in a strange accent.

And as soon as Eodwulf sees Caduceus he remembers the weirdly polite scratching of a chair, the wide smile that indicates that this is a person Eodwulf possibly can not force to lose their composure through careful placed rudeness. And his mouth betrays him.

“So. What are you, really?“

Caduceus blinks mildly surprised before his unfamiliar features shift into a warm smile that has Eodwulf feel quite a lot of inappropriate things he didn’t expect to find in a place like this.

“Gardener. Maker of fine tea. A decent cook. Keeper of graves“, Caduceus lists of and he uses his long fingers to count the things that are important to him about himself.

“Very powerful cleric“, Jester chimes in from the right. She has Astrid next to her in a chair and Eodwulf is pretty sure that Jester has started to put flowers in Astrid’s hair. But surely he must be mistaken. Who in the Nine Hells are these crazy people?

“Oh, yeah. Well, that too, I suppose“, Caduceus says, his smile still warm like honeyed wine.

“Huh“, Eodwulf says because he can’t for the life of him think of something else to say. But Caduceus is yet again pulling out a chair for him so Eodwulf straightens his shoulders and sits down next to Caduceus. Across the table from him the angry one throws herself into a chair and stares at him.

There’s no fear there either, but she can be easily angered, something Eodwulf is good at. He gives her a canine smile and she holds up her middle finger.

This group is full of people with an enormous lack of self preservation.

And they are so loud.

Eodwulf almost doesn’t hear it when Caduceus turns to him to ask him a question.

“Huh?“, he says again, like a fool.

“And what are you, was what I wanted to know“, Caduceus says, his lazy grin open and honest. There is no malice in his words. He actually wants to know.

Eodwulf thinks “Murderer, wizard, protégé, spy“ but he doesn’t say any of these things. “Maker of graves“ comes to mind, but it seems like too dark of a joke to make.

“Enthusiastic about both meat and booze“, he says in the end and Caduceus laughs.

“Yeah, as are most of my friends.“

The implication these words bring is probably only in Eodwulf’s mind but it makes him swallow and look away to find Astrid’s eyes. But Astrid now has pink flowers in her hair and a look of absolute confusion on her face as Jester rattles of compliment after compliment about various of Astrid’s features.

Eodwulf can’t help but look at Bre—Caleb. And he sees that there is a soft, barely noticeable smile on his old friend’s face as he watches the scene unfold.

What am I, indeed, he thinks.

*

Trent’s orders have been clear. Get close to the group called the Mighty Nein to find out what they are working on with Lady Vess DeRogna.

Eodwulf allows himself to think that Caduceus might have been right. Maybe Master Ikithon is indeed a fool.

Because being in the presence of these people is like nothing Eodwulf has ever experienced and it makes him think, wonder, question—

“Here we are again“, Caduceus says after, yet again, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited for dinner. Eodwulf wonders if this group just wants to make it very easy to spy on them, or if they have an agenda of their own—but it’s hard to believe that there might be any coherent agenda behind anything these people do.

He has watched the buff one called Yasha try and play what looked like a harp made of bone and when the angry one, Beau, told her that she looked hot playing the harp Yasha had torn two of the strings which had led to a whole scene of apologies and various tries to fix the harp.

Jester has drawn dicks on pretty much every surface this magical mansion has and she delights in the fact that Caleb brings the dicks to life in various colors. At some point he made glowing sparkles shoot out of one of the dicks Jester had drawn and Jester had laughed as if this was the best joke she had ever witnessed.

Eodwulf notices Astrid’s eyes on Jester.

Eodwulf also notices that while there seems to be no agenda or efficiency behind anything, they are still being watched.

Beau and Fjord look at them. And Eodwulf is pretty sure Caduceus watches everything as well, but he does it without crossing his arms and glaring so much.

“Looks like it”, he answers. Caduceus offers him tea and Eodwulf’s first instinct is to decline, but then he remembers that “maker of fine tea” had been very high on the list of descriptors so he takes the cup he is offered while somewhere in the background people start screaming something that sounds like “FLUFFERNUTTER”.

Eodwulf tries the tea. He’s not a fan of tea, but this tea is absolutely delicious and he finds himself impressed.

“I believe this one comes from the Hollburns’ graves. Those remains made the tea grow quite fast, it was impressive.”

Eodwulf blinks at his tea and then at Caduceus. For a second his brain wonders if this statement should register as a threat, but it had been delivered with such honest delight and a sense of pride that Eodwulf discards that feeling.

“What?”, he asks. Caduceus points at the tea.

“Oh, well, my family grows tea on those graves we’re keeping. In case you wanted to ask me again what I am. Or—hm, I think I already mentioned that I am a keeper of graves?”

Caduceus trails off and looks thoughtful and Eodwulf stares at him.

“Keeper of Graves. That make you a follower of the Matron?”, he asks.

Caduceus looks at him and smiles.

“Not quite. My family serves Melora. But we are descended from a champion of the Raven Queen.”

Eodwulf can’t help but wonder if this was some kind of weird joke. But his goddess usually isn’t one for joking.

Eodwulf considers for a second, then he pulls out the raven feather pendant from under his cloak.

Caduceus nods. “So”, he says and smiles widely. “What are you?”

Eodwulf snorts.

“For real?”, he says.

Caduceus’ smile widens.

“For real.”

*

It feels like this has become a sort of game.

“What are you?”

“Moral compass. Middle sibling. Eccentric. Amateur flute player.”

Eodwulf finds that through this question he himself posed the first time, he’s been forced to think more about himself than he feels comfortable with.

“What are you?”

“Decent chess player. Dog person. Sportsman. Only child.”, are the things he says out loud.

“Self-made orphan. Patriot. Volstrucker. Torturer.”, are the things he thinks to himself.

Eodwulf has the impression that Caduceus is somehow aware of the things he doesn’t say.

*

“So. This is the crew you’re running with now?”, Eodwulf asks Bre—Caleb one night before the Mighty Nein will leave with Vess DeRogna to who-knows-where. Neither Astrid nor Eodwulf did get very far with their planned infiltration work. Eodwulf is not even sure how hard they even tried.

It’s very easy to get swept away by the chaos and the weirdness and the complete lack of fear that the group displays when it comes to him and Astrid. They are dangerous people in a lot of ways.

The Mighty Nein are also dangerous people in a very different way. A way that Eodwulf doesn’t know anything about.

“This is my family, ja.”

He says it, just like that, without looking at Eodwulf.

Family.

The word tastes bitter in Eodwulf’s mouth as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“Weird people”, he says. Caleb huffs.

“You can say that, yes. But they grow on you very quickly”, he answers quietly and with a small, fond smile that makes something inside Eodwulf ache. For a long time Eodwulf pitied Bren for breaking, for not making it, for failing, for being locked away and discarded. Now he realizes that maybe, in a very macabre sort of way, Bren becoming Caleb through failure was the better end of the bargain.

It feels blasphemous to think that.

“The pink one is especially weird”, Eodwulf finds himself saying and he takes a big swig of whiskey from his flask before handing it to Caleb.

“Ja, I noticed that you seem to have a... uh... particular kind of interest in him. And, if I may add, he in you.”

Eodwulf takes the flask back after Caleb drinks. He contemplates the different sorts of feelings inside his gut as the words sink in. Then he tucks it all away very carefully, just as he learned through many years of being in Trent’s presence.

“Still don’t know what he is”, Eodwulf says. Caleb snorts and shakes his head.

“His people are called Firbolg”, he provides.

“Not sure that’s what I mean. Not anymore, at least.”

It seems dangerous to admit that. Caleb turns his head and looks at Eodwulf with a shimmer in his eyes that Eodwulf can’t read. Many years ago he was able to read Bren like an open book, but Caleb is another book entirely.

“You deserve to have some nice things, you know. You deserve friends. A chance of—hm. A chance of peace. A chance for redemption, if you want it.”

Eodwulf gets up and tugs away his flask.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people. Pain is inconsequential, it’s love that saves them.”

Eodwulf understands the truth in these words now. Bren was broken, Caleb is being healed. Eodwulf doesn’t think that there’s anything left in him that can be saved. Or should be saved.

“Good luck on your journey tomorrow. Don’t die”, Eodwulf says and he leaves Caleb behind.

What are you, he thinks. A sentimental fool.

*

Astrid sits next to him on one of the balconies of her house and looks up at the stars above them. The Mighty Nein have been gone for six days and it has been very quiet.

They sit in silence and share a bottle of whiskey, passing it back and forth instead of words. It’s been like this for many many years that they’ve allowed themselves to just be. Today though, Astrid breaks the silence.

“I’m going to be the one who kills him.”

She says it quietly, without remorse, without indicating that this is a scandalous statement. She says it just how other people would say “I’ll go to bed soon.”.

Eodwulf stops breathing for just a moment. Then he inhales the cool night air and turns his head to look at her.

“Could kill you for treason”, he says. She looks at him and cocks her head slightly, the analyzing gaze of a murderous spy meets its equal in silence.

“I’d love to see you try”, she says. Eodwulf grins. It feels reckless.

“Don’t die”, he says, the same thing he’s said to Caleb before. Astrid regards him for a long moment and Eodwulf takes another sip. “Will you help me or try to stop me?”

Eodwulf considers this for a moment. Would he try to stop Astrid should she try to kill Trent? No. Would he help her? He doesn’t know that either.

“Can’t you just wait for Bren to do it for you?”

“I won’t lose to him again.”

Eodwulf snorts.

Always so competitive.

“That’s some fucked up shit, Astrid.”

“Shut up, Arschloch.”

Eodwulf grins before getting up to stretch. He puts his hands on the railing of Astrid’s balcony and wonders what Caleb’s new family is up to.

Making a new family never came to mind before. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale. While he contemplates the question whether he would help Astrid kill Trent Ikithon, a slow, familiar voice pops up in his head.

“Hey. Uh—Jester told me to send you an update. We’re still alive. Hope you’re good. Got  a new question for you. What will you become?”

The rustling of Astrid’s clothes as she stands up as well somehow tells him that she received a message in her head as well. She steps beside him and puts her hands on the railing next to his.

“They’re persistent”, she says quietly.

Eodwulf nods and inhales.

He doesn’t know what he will become. He didn’t even know that was a question to be asked. The path is clear. It always was.

Pain doesn’t make people.

“Not going to answer?”, she wants to know.

“Don’t have an answer yet.”

It’s unclear to him whether she means her own question or the message Caduceus just sent him.

He answers the sending spell with a simple “I don’t know.”. It takes a few minutes before another message comes in.

“That’s good. Uncertainty is good. It’s the first step in a better direction. I’m going to kill a dragon now. Wish me luck. Good night.”

“I’ll keep you posted on the answer to that question of yours. I’ll see you tomorrow”, he says and leaves Astrid behind on the balcony. Eodwulf thinks about something he hasn’t thought about in a very long time. A priestess in his Matron’s temple once told him: “Death is the only certainty in life.”.

He thinks that Caduceus would agree.

And Eodwulf hopes that the next time he sees that weird, reckless man, he’ll have an answer for him.

[thefanficmonster]

Partner

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing, Mentions of injury

Genre: Angsty Fluff, Comfort

Summary: Following the final battle in the Dimitrescu Castle, Ethan is surprised to stumble upon a person who witnessed the whole debacle, offering him a safe place to patch up his wounds and rest for a little while.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! So sorry you’ve had to wait so long but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤

“That was...something else.“ Ethan Winters mutters to himself as he limps his way out of the Dimitrescu Castle which is now vacant in terms of residence - his doing. He killed Alcina Dimitrescu and her daughters, all arguably in self defense and with little guilt to follow. However, plenty of trauma’s definitely attached to him following the horrific events he had to go through and the things he had to see between the walls of those luxurious rooms hiding dark secrets of the vampires who took pleasure in torturing people, and wreaking havoc over the villagers who feared them.

“At least they won’t hurt anyone any longer.“ He tells himself, giving the monster of a structure one final look before he continues back towards the center of the village where he’s gonna rethink what he’s got to do next, gather his bearings, take a breath and keep going. He has no other option but to keep going, he won’t allow himself to quit no matter what danger he faces. In his mind, he’s convinced himself that he’s already seen the worst, it’s easier on him that way, it suppresses the fear he’d feel otherwise. The last thing he wants is to think what’s in store for him ahead, he’d rather focus on what’s up to him to do next.

“And we can’t thank you enough.“

The sudden presence of an unfamiliar voice startles him, causing him to whip out his gun and point it in the direction it came from. However, he quickly finds his deadly tight grip loosening ever so slightly because he realizes he’s pointing the barrel at a very human-looking and seemingly harmless person.

“Who are you? Who’s ‘we’?“ Ethan still refuses to let his guard down though, just cause it may not be a life or death situation, doesn’t mean this person won’t bring him trouble and Lord knows that’s the last thing he needs right now.

On instinct, the person takes a step back, “I speak on the behalf of all the remaining villagers. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we too became victims in the Dimitrescu Castle basement. I was next, actually, but the commotion you created allowed for me to escape. I owe you my life, foreigner.“ The speak hurriedly and in a hushed tone, as if the fear of their torturers overhearing them still lives within them despite the monsters being deceased.

“Glad I could help you.“ He nods curtly, remaining at the distance of seven feet between them, “My name’s Ethan Winters by the way.“

They give him the tiniest of smiles, “Y/N L/N, pleased to meet you.” Their gaze gives him a quick onceover, assessing the damage the horrors of the castle have inflicted on him. Their eyes widen in shock at the many bleeding wounds all over his body but what appears to rattle them most is the severe injury that’s causing his limp as well as the missing finger - a poorly wrapped would that has surprisingly not started getting infected yet. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I don’t trust you to take care of yourself either. I live in that windmill over there in the outskirts, come with me, I’ll help you with...well, with all that. You seem rather hopeless at medical care.”

While he could refuse their offer, he wouldn’t be able to deny the fact that they’re right - he knows the basics of first aid, but his injuries are far too gone for simple first aid, especially when taken into account that he doesn’t even have any supplies. How he’s not died from blood loss is a surprise to him as much as it is to them.

“What’s my guarantee you won’t turn on me?“ He finally asks after a decent amount of time contemplating it.

They shrug, “You have none. But, you have the guarantee that if I turn on you, you’ll be the one coming out of that altercation alive.” Their gaze sizes up the guns he’s got on him, emphasizing their point.

Suddenly, Ethan feels sorta ridiculous - after all, guns or no guns, he could probably take on them easily with just his knife. Regardless, no one can blame him for being cautious. “Fine.“ He mutters, “But please don’t turn on me, I’ve already had one hell of a day.“

Y/N nods, motioning for him to follow them, “I promise I won’t.”

                                                               *  *  *

“Wow, what a back-stabber! Some friends you have, Winters.“ Y/N comments as they set down a cup of tea on the small wooden table in front of the freshly patched up Ethan.

Turns out, he made the right move by trusting them - they used to be the village’s main nurse until it all went to hell and they went to hide in the shadows of their windmill where they, as evidenced, still are today. That being said, not only did they have all the necessary equipment to fix him up, but they also had the skills and knowledge needed to use that equipment.

“There are those friends who borrow money from you and never pay you back and there are those who shoot your wife randomly while you two are trying to have dinner. Two types of friends out there really.“ He sighs, his tired, a thousand yard stare following the path of the steam levitating from the cup that’s been placed in front of him. “I have no time to dwell on that right now though. My daughter is in grave danger and I have no idea where I should even start looking for her.“

Y/N sits down on a chair opposite his, “Well, you’ve already defeated one of the village Lords looking for Rose, process of elimination should reveal where she is - wherever she is, it has to be one of the Lords’ residence. Mother Miranda trusted Lady Dimitrescu most so it’s a wonder why she wasn’t there, but then again, Heisenberg’s factory is damn near impenetrable, one cannot enter unless he wants them to so she could have entrusted her precious cargo to him.”

“How do I get to that fucker?“ Ethan tightens his hand into a fist, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turn white. There’s so much within him, so much that’s happened to him, so much in such a short amount of time and he’s had no time to deal with any of it. He’s a volcano waiting to erupt, but he has to do so at the right time - in front of the right danger to show he’s not hopeless or weak as his opponent may think. “Where do I find him?“

“He’s in the outskirts too just on the other side of the village.“ They sigh, regretting every word they are saying since they know they are just feeding him information on how to get himself in the worst kind of danger he’s probably ever been in. “That key you have, it’s not complete to access his quarters yet. By the looks of it...“ they observe the key Ethan has placed on the table, “You can only get to Lord Donna Beneviento’s estate, and I wouldn’t suggest heading there before you heal at least a bit more. Her and her dolls are a real nightmare. Of course, I haven’t experienced it for myself, but the stories are enough to get an idea.“

“So you’re telling me I have to waste my time with the little fish before I can finally get to Rose? You know how long that’ll take? You know how long she’ll have to be at the mercy of a fucking lunatic until I can finally save her?!“ Ethan snaps, banging his fist against the table, bad idea considering his hand’s been just patched up. The impact sends a jolt of pain up his arm that makes him hiss.

“I get it, I understand, Ethan. But you are a lot less likely to get to your daughter if you’re dead, you know.“ Y/N cautiously explains, their eyes narrowing a bit as they wait for the pearl white bandages to soak crimson, sighing in relief when they don’t. “Speaking of how likely you may or may not be to get to her on time, I’d also have to mention your odds would be significantly higher if you were to receive help from someone else. You’d need someone to have your back throughout all the shit you’re about to go through, especially Heisenberg’s factory where two eyes are not enough to track each and every threat that might pounce at you.“

Calmer now, Ethan gives them a puzzled look, “What are you suggesting?“

“I’m suggesting - well, I’m offering you my partnership.“ They explain, watching his expression change to one of knowing and understanding. “Of course, you’d have to give up one of those guns and hand it down to me, but I think that’s a small price to pay in exchange for an extra pair of eyes and limbs to guard and help you.“

Ethan’s first instinct is to decline. He can’t afford to see another person dying around him or because of him, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. But then again, just like he had no guarantee they wouldn’t turn on him, he has none that they’ll die. Of course, he’ll do everything in his power to keep them and himself alive and they don’t seem like they are in it to half-ass it either. Quite the contrary, they seem perfectly determined and ready to face the same shit he’s about to.

“What do you get in return?“ He asks, his gaze suspiciously measuring each line on their face to gauge their true intentions. He’s a complete stranger to them, they’d have no reason to be this selfless for him, it’s obvious they are aiming at something bigger.

Y/N scoffs, leaning back in their chair with a small bitter smile on their face, their gaze resting on the tabletop and avoiding his, “You really wanna know? I want my revenge - revenge for what they did to this village, to me, to so many people I cared about and to those I didn’t even know. But...” they trail off, pausing to sigh out a heavy sigh before continuing, “But I also wanna redeem myself. I knew I should’ve done all in my power to stop them when their havoc was still on the rise, I knew I should’ve done more, but I didn’t. And now I’ll die trying.”

“You won’t die.“ He says sharply, barely a second after the last word left their lips, “I won’t allow it.“ He adds, taking a bit of the edge off his voice.

Their eyes come up to meet his, searching for what he means, “Does that mean...“

“It sure does, partner.“ Within the blink of an eye, his pistol is on the table, fully loaded and free for their taking, “You just give a green light and we’re off.“

Y/N lets out a sound between a laugh and a gasp as their hands quickly wrap around the gun, looking at it in disbelief before whispering a quick ‘thank you’. Ethan allows them to marvel at it for a bit longer but they don’t wait another second. “Get your ass up, Winters. We have monsters to kill.”

He needn’t be told twice

[munsnz]

Safe With Me — Will Byers

Warnings: Angst, Cussing ??

Summary: You have a crush on Will and you were being forgotten in the party until Will comes and tells you the news about how the Mind Flayer is back after last year. You are clearly upset but how will this resolve?

Lydinous Radio: Somebody That I Used To Know — Gotye

Masterlist — Requests Open !

You were very fretful due to the whole situation of the love of your life, Will Byers. He didn’t know that yet. You loved Will since he came back from the Upside Down, it was the moment you realized that you did actually like him. Such an intelligent and interesting boy he was, you became great friends with him although Mike wasn’t so fond about it. The party loved you, but you weren’t as present when the Mindflayer was inside Will. You were with Steve, Max, Dustin, and Lucas fighting the Demodogs, after witnessing such horror you were scared for Will. Everything had a great outcome, and after that fiasco, you two became closer friends.

You were huddled in a blanket on a rainy night, you haven’t heard much of the party, in fact, it seemed like they forgot about you. Eleven and Max were at the mall while the boys were probably playing D&D. You were alone, forgotten, scared, where was your best friend? Why would your friends ditch you? That was all that went through your mind. Hearing the rain pouring, made you cry a little harder, maybe you could call Joyce. No, Will would notice your crush on him. You, Y/N L/N had never cared for anyone so much like Will Byers. He was your everything, the reason why you woke up everyday to see him or at least say hi. You decided to go look for him, but it was getting dark.

You walked in front of the porch, you saw Reggie, your dog, stand upon you, making you pet him. You watched the cars splash into the rain, more tears flowed like a river, sending a stream down your cheeks. Your heart ached for a friend, somebody, or even your worst enemy. Lonely feelings weren’t the best, you had been very dependent these past days, but no one was around.

Suddenly, you began to hear someone walking towards you, it was hard to define the tall figure. You saw someone familiar, your heart skipped a beat to find Will running towards you. ”Will!” That was all you could say before he ran into your arms, sobbing.

”I’m sorry Y/N,” He cried out, his long arms wrapping around your small figure, “I destroyed everything, our friendship is broken.”

Hearing those words made you look up at him.... flushed with a small anger of why he just came to check on you, “Will, why do you need me? I thought you forgot about me. Go off with Mike and maybe Max, she’ll make you happy for sure.”

”Are you kidding? Your amazing,” He whimpered, holding you tighter in the rain, “I wouldn’t be with Max, why would I?”

”You like her, now leave me alone, all you do is gonna carry me around because I’m the last resort,” You let go of the hug, “You chose them, people who grew up without you Will! I was here waiting for you to come by, but you made me feel like shit.”

The words you told him, brought silence into the air, he just looked down in guilt, realizing the slight pain that he caused in you. Your face softens, you were put into a heartfelt of emotions. Slowly, he began to speak up, “It’s my mistake, I’m just a really bad friend. We ignored someone so special and amazing like you. I don’t know why I left you out, why everyone left you out.”

You felt his warm arms around you again, you felt cared for, for once, the love in it as friends was so welcoming to you. “I-I don’t understand, why are you like this? Why are you coming to me just now?”

”This is important Y/N-“

”NO WILL I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT!”

”I-I felt him.”

Your heart dropped, the words made your skin turn into goosebumps and feeling a dizzy sensation, he knew everyone was in grave danger, you were scared. You didn’t want to loose him again. Not again, he was so special to you. Loosing him would tear your world apart, “Will............... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to I-“

”I love you?” Was all he could say to you, “I know this is rushed, I know I just came to you.”

”Did you tell the party?”

“No, I came to look for you Y/N. I’m scared, we’re in danger, but we have to fight. But you’re always going to be safe with me Y/N. I’ve liked you before I met you, everytime I saw you walk past me, gave me butterflies. I’m so out of your league I know, I’ve never felt this with anyone. I love you.”

“Will...........” You couldn’t say anything back until his lips met yours, bringing you close to him. Your lips connected so well, they were almost perfect. You had never had your first kiss, but this felt so familiar to you, like it was made for you. Letting go, you pressed your forehead against his, “I love you too.”

You two chuckled at the exchange of words. Hugging and then agreed to let the others know about the tingling sensation. Running through the street, hand in hand, finding Castle Byers. You saw Castle Byers was destroyed, somewhere you two bonded over.

“What did you do?” Your heart broke at the sight, seeing Will tear up a little.

”Guess my friends never really cared, all they do is swapping spit with some girl,” He grunted, kneeling down, “And no, not you because even though I love you, you’ve been there for me although I’ve been a terrible friend.”

You kneeled next to him, “Look, I understand, I’ve been left out with El and Max. I know how it feels, but at least we got each other.”

He nodded and heard footsteps behind you two, you found Mike and Lucas. Will turned around to find them too.

”He’s here.” Alarming them about the Mindflayer, it was back.

These events from now and on were going to be hectic, dangerous, worrisome, yet hopeful for the future of Hawkins. But you two knew something for sure that you were going to be safe in each other’s hands. Yet, there was other danger lying ahead, everyone was going to get through it. You were safe with him, you were safe with Will Byers.

[ihaveonlymydreams]

JUSTUS JUDEX

By Dorothy Sayers

I judge no man.

God sent not the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world should be saved through Him. He that believeth on Him is not judged: he that believeth not hath been judged already, because he hath not believed.

THERE came three men of the latter age, and stood at Peter's gate,

And searched through all the courts of Heaven to find some advocate;

The Eternal Father shook His head: "I know not who they be . . .

I never have heard in all their heart one thought of love to Me.

"How sayest thou, Lady Mary, that wast the carpenter's wife,

Did they lose the vision of All that Is in the little cares of life?"

"Alas! alas! their hearts were barred from the hallowed, humble things . . .

I have no knowledge of them before Thee, King of kings."

The Father looked on all the Saints, from Paul to Magdalene,

That wit so well what a sinner is, from the sinners that they have been,

But every eye was casten down, and dumb was every lip,

The Saints know nothing of any man that scorns man's fellowship.

Then fear came over those flaccid men: "Thou wilt not damn us thus?

We led such pretty, delightsome lives . . . will no man speak for us?"

The Father furrowed His brow in doubt: "It may be there is one . . .

Canst Thou find aught to say for these, Prince Jesus, My meek Son?"

O then up rose Prince Jesus Christ, the fieriest Lord in Heaven,

His feet clear as the burning brass among the candles seven,

His words were swifter than edged swords, they were more sharp than wine:

"Though My Father and mother cast them off, I claim the men for Mine.

"How shall I saw I know not these, when these knew me so well,

They stormed all day on the doors of Heaven to drag Me out to hell?

They were blind to the banners and deaf to song, they drowsed beside the ships,

But the call of the Cross could startle them up with fury on their lips.

"They caught like babes with witless hands at the Babylonian beast;

They cast the cloak of their patronage on the blank creeds of the East,

Where God shrinks down to a shrivelling point, and all things shrink with Him;

They bowed to Amon-ra for a jest, to Isis for a whim;

"They called on the Dwellers beneath the Door, and knew not what they did;

They filched the magic of ageless gods from the guarded pyramid;

They fashioned them bracelets of sacred jade, and brooches of scarab-wings;

They babbled the names unspeakable of strong and merciless Things;

"And they set the soft, fierce Cyprian in the chambers, and took no note

If the bond of Baal was on their breast, the phallus upon their throat;

But they hated and feared the crucifix, and they could not pass it by,

But thrust it forth with spitting and sneers, for they knew that I am I.

"I walk in the world in judgment, to sunder and not condemn;

There be none so sunk and sodden but I lay My hand on them,

And if yet in the palsied body one answering pulse can leap,

Whether to love or hatred, they are not dead but sleep.

"Therefore I swear, O Father and God, I swear by Thy mighty throne,

With the blood that was shed on Calvary I bought them for Mine own;

It shall dye them with shame and scarlet, it shall sear them as burning coals,

For they spilt and trampled it into the mire, and it shall save their souls.

"Unbar the gates, good Peter, and for twice a thousand years

Let them writhe 'neath the rod of My pity and the insult of My tears,

Till hate is bound to the wheels of love, and sin is made My slave,

And I bring Mine own from the deep again, My dead back from the grave."