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warnersister · 3 years ago

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Pen Pal

John Lennon x Reader

Warnings: mentions of war (a lot of it), WW2, swearing, death, sexism, mentions of smut but doesn’t happen, HISTORICAL INACCURACY.

(I know VE Day is the 8th of May, but I messed up the times line, I’m really sorry!)

The Beatles Masterlist

John Lennon Masterlist

It originally started as a way to boost your spirits. It was early September of 1942, the War still ranging on in the society around you. You were on the way to the factory (having been working there as a contribution to the home from) and saw a flyer, well: multiple flyers, which were advertising a thing called a: ‘pen pal’. You stopped, and read it. After all, you were early and it didn’t seem as if the blitz were suddenly returning. (The rubble had only just been completely clear). You shook your head, attempting to rid the horrid thoughts from your mind.

‘PEN PAL EXPERIMENT

SEND A LETTER TO A SOLDIER. BOOST THEIR MORALE.’

It had the address of an enrolling office and a small ticket to take. You ripped one off, shoving it into your pocket - not thinking much of it, as you went about your day. It slipped your mind when you were assisting with building the ammunition, a level of unimportance rising within the small slip of paper.

It was only when you got home, that your memory rebooted. You were loading your washing machine, digging into the pockets, when you found it. You assumed it was worth a shot, grabbing your bag and heading out of the house, tuning into the radio beforehand for any air-raid warnings, hearing that the sky was clear - much to your delight. It was a cool, almost calm night. It offered a sense of relief to the most tragic world around you.

You reached the steps, and inside were a few men. Some: elderly or disabled. Others: young and peaceful protesters. They raised their eyebrows on your way in. “Can we help you, miss?” You had gathered respect since women had helped the war effort, but were still getting mixed feelings for the more sexist of the British Common Wealth’s population. You nodded, smiling lightly as you handed the younger man the slip of paper. He returned your grin, leading you into the next room.

“It’s good what you’re doing, you know - really going to boost someone’s spirits, love.” He told you, skimming down a list, consisting of names you had assumed, and he picked one. “Ah, perfect.” You gave him a questioning look. “Some of the lads signed up to get a pen pal. They get lonely, you see. It really helps what you’re doing.” He explained. “And obviously with the war efforts, thank you for that too.” He spoke quickly, under his breath. You appreciated it, being recognised for your assistance by a man. Maybe the world was changing.

“Right, if you just fill this out, then we’ll send it off and you’ll make a soldier a very happy man.” He handed you the clipboard, and you nodded beginning to fill out the information. It consisted of: your name, date of birth and your address. “Right, give it a week or two, and you should receive a letter in the post. Thank you.” He told you after you had given him the paper. He showed you out, thanking you once again, grateful for your volunteering.

In the span of a few days, you had simply forgotten the ‘pen pal’ thing. Whether you were busy with work, or trying to maintain independence in a world like this, you had just forgot. That was until the lady who delivered your post knocked on your front door a week or two later. “Morning, (Y/n)!” She said chirpily. “Morning, Louise!” You replied, taking the letters politely from her grasp. “Not a bomb in two weeks. You reckon it’s nearly over?” She asked, creating the kind conversation you nearly always had, unless none of you was in hurry. “How longs a piece of string?” You laughed, and she joined in. “You’re right there, love.” She agreed. “See you later!” And with that, she carried on with her rounds, although uncertain of when you would actually see her again.

You flicked between the unpaid bills, the newspaper - bored of the same old shit. That was when a letter in scribbled cursive caught your eye. “France?” You asked yourself, reading the stamp on the front. ‘Miss (Y/n) (L/n) - (Your Address), England’. It read. You didn’t recognise the writing, and did you certainly didn’t know anyone from France. You turned it over, and it immediately clicked in your head. ‘The PEN PAL EXPERIMENT’ an alternative stamp said. Sure, it had crossed your mind over the past fortnight, but you hadn’t expected a letter, nor a reply so quickly. “The post is faster then it was before.” You told yourself, but it was understandable. Urgent transmissions, trying to keep the boys in the fighting spirit, you know - morale.

You opened the sealed envelope, sitting down at your kitchen table to read what your pen pal had to say.

‘Saturday the 19th of September, 1942.

Dear,

Miss (Y/n) (L/n),

I do apologise if my writing is too scribbly, or hard to make out, or even the odd mistake here and there. You see, I am hurriedly writing this as we are moving posts again tonight. Typical of them to give us a last minute warning. But you know the Germans, as if they would cooperate with the British Military. However, I am very appreciative of your interest in this letter business. My mother passed of tuberculosis last year, and my father died when I was a young child. So to me, this means a lot. My troop is my family, I suppose. My brothers. Just having someone to talk to, even a stranger, just gives me the hope to fight through this, as the fighting doesn’t seem the be getting any lighter, nor easier. I hope this helps you too. I’d love to know about you. I’d love to make a friend. My name is John Winston Lennon, I turn twenty in a few weeks time, the 9th of October, and I am from Liverpool. It would be delightful to have a response - I’m sure you will be offered my next address and whereabouts?

Sincerely,

Your pen pal,

John.’

It made your heart melt when you read it. It contained a lot of personal things, but you understood the fact that he had no one to confide in - it gave you an overwhelming sense of trust. Going to put the letter back in it’s envelope, you discovered an address, of which it told you to address your letters. It went onto explain that they would then send it to your pen pal, not being allowed to send them to his direct locations, due to the confidentiality of their whereabouts, and the massive risk of interception but Nazi forces. You placed the envelope into a small, prior to this encounter, empty basket and set out to reply. You address it as he did, but was way too hyper to keep it extremely formal.

‘Monday the 28th of September, 1942

Dear,

Mr John Lennon,

I’m not sure entirely sure what to begin this letter with, other than hello. Thank you for the introduction, and the sense of trust you are offering me. I promise to help you as much as I can, practically be a shoulder to cry on from miles away. I, myself, live alone. My dad went off to fight in the war. And my mother was placed into a mill making clothes for shoulders, a while away from here I work in the factories you see, I make ammunition and only hope I’m helping you lot. It’s not much, but it’s what I can offer. As you know, my name is (Y/n) (M/n [if you have one]) (L/n), I also turn twenty soon - (Your Birthday), but it’s a while away yet, and I’m from (Home). And Happy Birthday, John! I do hope the chocolates haven’t melted in the envelope?

I look forward to your reply!

Sincerely,

Your Pen Pal,

(Y/n) (L/n).’

Enclosed, you added your ration of chocolate for that time, unsure of whether you were actually allowed to send it or not, but you still did it, adding the return address, and making your way to the post box near the end of your street. You, (im)patiently awaiting the man’s long-awaited response although you had only sent it, merely moments ago.

Over the course of a year, you and John grew close. You sent photos of one-another, all of which; you posted on your fridge, and him - kept in his coat. To him, you were the warmth his dull heart needed. You brightened his day. Your letters were frequent, and always awaited by the latter (whoever that may be). It kept his spirits up, and kept you going. Well, it was the way your parents met dusting The Great War, so that gave you a sense of hope. To John, you were a dream, you were his lady without even asking permission. He was head-over-heels in love with you, at least that’s what his troop were guessing from the way he’d beg the correspondence men for your letters. You two shared interest, finding out he loved to play the guitar and sing, himself and a friend who he was stationed with, Paul - decided they we’re going to form their own band when they got out. He loved when you wrote about your own aspirations, reading them over and over until they were branded into his head.

John made your heart flutter, made the postwoman wonder why you were always so chipper, why you begged her for the stack of bills in her hand. You two were in love, and didn’t even know it. Well, until John mentioned in in one of his letters, in the late July of 1943. The one that was addressed differently.

‘Tuesday the 27th of July, 1943

Dearest (Y/n),

I write this to you with a heavy heart. Not of sadness, but of hope and love. For you. My love, I dream of the day I should marry you, the day I hold our children, the day we get to meet, the day I get to love you. But until then my darling, I must confess through the use of our conventional letter. To which I hope you understand, the day I wish to whisk you away, and take you by the hand. If you would be ever so kind to let me, and to this is strongly plead, would you be my girl? I promise when this is over we’ll be together. Have a cottage in the country. Love and cherish past the mortal world of living, after death do us part. Make you (Y/n) Lennon as soon as I shall return. Darling I do not know if I should make it, for I walk blind in this war. But would you make me the happiest man alive, and be mine?

Sincerely,

Your pen pal,

Your soldier,

John Lennon.’

He was scared of sending it you, shaking as he handed it over, loosing the chance to take it back and risk everything he loved. Everything that was you. He fought for you, he would even die for you, but for now, he awaited your response. If it was ever to come, of course.

‘Monday the 9th of August 1943

My darling John,

I write to tell you your heavy heart is not necessary. I’d give my life for you, my love. It would be my honour to be your girl. And I shall impatiently await the day we can make all of our dreams come true. I promise to stick by your side; whether by pen or person. John Lennon you made my heart full. I can’t wait to run into your arms the day you get back. I hope this war should finish soon. To create a family of our own back here, home - in England. Today you made me the happiest woman alive. It would be my upmost honour to become (Y/n) Lennon.

Sincerely,

Your pen pal,

Your girl,

(Y/n) (L/n).’

John practically jumped around with glee when he heard this, making the others think he were mad - shell shocked, perhaps. Even when they were moving posts. “What’s getting you so chipper?” Another asked him, who was sulkily trudging through the poring rain of the trenches. “I’m just counting down the days to go and see my missus That’s all.” He said, with a shrug. A large smile on his face despite his drenched clothing, and low spirits of the other men.

You conversed back and forth, more than ever before. And the few times he was forced to go a form of ‘radio-silent’, almost killed him. He was the one, well - more like you were the one keeping the spirits up. And without being able to send or receive letters was a stab in the heart. How could you check he was okay? How could he check that you were okay? He wrote you a letter every day. Not knowing when he was allowed to send them. You had done the same, patiently waiting until you got his letter to ensure his safety to do the same.

The girls at work noticed you weren’t your usual high-spirited self, and it showed. They would ask if you were alright and you shrugged it off. The only person you wanted to talk to was him. And you couldn’t. But what was a few weeks of silence compared to a lifetime of sorrow? One of the girls whom you were particularly close with, even knew about your ‘friend’, walked up to you, held you close, and simply said: “Is it John?” Your tears burst from your eyes, with wails of sadness streaming down your cheeks. You all had a little intervention on your lunch break where you all spoke about what was going on, none of you even ate. Just chatted, and more importantly - listened.

You explained your situation and to your surprise - a lot of the women knew what you were going through. Some had husbands in there, others a writing buddy (like myself), and the rest were amazing comforters for the rest of us. It felt nice to have someone to talk to about things like that. It made you feel a bit better.

What truly made you feel better?

When there were bags of letters being delivered to your house.

“Lover boys writing again!” The postwoman said, and you almost began crying again, but you gave her all of your letters, as she said that she was willing to send them for you, first-class, as well. You read them all. One by one.

‘Thursday the 4th of November, 1943

My sweetheart,

The Germans are close. We have been to defend British and allied territory and remain radio silent. I’m not sure if you should ever get this letter, nor do I know if I shall ever get yours. I will write daily, my love - just keep dreaming of you and I. The day this is all over and I can kiss you for the first time.

I love you, my sweet (Y/n) Lennon.

Sincerely,

Your love,

John Lennon.’

Thats the day the letters started. Of course, tears were shed while you read.

‘Friday the 5th of November, 1943

My dear,

We have arrived.’

‘Saturday the 6th of November, 1943

My love,

It has only been a day but I already miss you. I look at your pictures as a way of consoling myself.’

‘Sunday the 7th of November, 1943

Sweetheart,

The Germans are nearing.’

‘Monday the 8th of November, 1943

My life,

I am scared.’

‘Tuesday the 9th of November, 1943

Darling,

We’re going into battle. I’m not even sure we’re in France anymore.’

‘Wednesday the 10th of November, 1943

My love,

Are you okay? I miss you dearly.’

‘Thursday the 11th of November, 1943

My princess, I have been without you for a week now.’

‘Friday the 12th of November, 1943

My darling,

I don’t know if I can go on.’

‘Saturday the 13th of November, 1943

My darling,

I love you.’

Until December. Every bloody day. You read every letter, every poem, every hopelessly romantic word that kept you hanging on.

‘Wednesday the 15th of December, 1943

My dearest (Y/n),

We’ve finally stopped fighting today. They’re sending us back to our previous post. We won, but there have been many casualties. My darling, I am finally allowed to send my letters. I can’t wait to receive yours. I have missed your beautiful words, your voice through the page. Sweetheart I’m unsure of what will happen. When will the fighting stop? But I am sure of one thing, my princess.

I love you and I always will.

Sincerely,

Your soldier,

John Lennon.’

You smiled broadly, the wet visualisations of relief running down your cheeks, your dear John Lennon was alive. He was well. He was here. Despite the numerous letter you had already sent, which were drastically similar to his, except the broad subject of fighting - as you didn’t have the experience to talk about that. You spoke about the factory. And the girls. Your friends; your sisters. You felt impulsed to send another.

‘Tuesday the 21st of December, 1943

My darling John,

I have received your letters. All of them. My god have I been worried sick. I have prayed the nights away for you safety, and by god I hope the war is to be over soon. Sweetheart, I am fine now that I know you’re okay. John Lennon you make me the happiest woman alive. You are my hero, John. You saved me and this county. I love you. So so much. Merry Christmas, my love.

Sincerely,

Your girl,

Mrs Lennon.’

You applied an evenly generous layer of red lip stick to your lips, and kissed the corner of the page, offering him a small confession of love.

John was overwhelmed when he received the heap of parcels. The man came in, gave the others their letters, leaving a desperate John until last. “John Lennon?” He read off of the list. His head quickly shot up, as he addressed himself. “There’s not much.” The man said sarcastically, but John just wanted your letters. Even if I just said one word. The man turned the bag over, and tipped the letters in front of him, almost creating some sort of pile. “You’re missus must love you.” He said, whistling at the amount. “Aye.” John smiled for the first time in weeks. “I think she does.”

One by one, he opened all of your letters - eagerly reading all of them, his heart melting into a splotchy pile in his stomach when he read your love-sick, worried words. He felt warm inside despite the coldness of the French winter. His heart rapidly pumping bloody into his love-stuck body. Cupid striking again.

You had even sent a present. A small box, with brown paper and a white string bow. It was a pair of gloves. Thermal winter ones, may I add. Your mother had made them in her work-mill, but she added a special touch to it, upon request. A small: ‘John & (Y/n)’ stitched into the lining. Along with a letter inside one of them, it was small and square shaped. ‘Thank you for giving my daughter hope. I look forward to meeting you - my son in law. Stay strong. (Mother’s/Name) (L/n).’

He tucked it into his pocket, behind the photos he had of you, slipping on the gloves and practically basking in the warmth they offered his almost frost-bitten fingers, lovingly tracing the lining with each of your names. That’s when he remembered it was Christmas Eve. Amidst all the low-spiritedness and the fighting, he completely forgot that is was Christmas. And he wasn’t giving his girl anything? Well, he didn’t have much to give. But he told himself that was only an excuse - determined to reply to you in a letter along with something special. Just for you.

‘Friday the 24th of December, 1943

Princess,

I wish I could spend Christmas with you. I wish I could hold your hand. I wish I could hold you close. I wish I could kiss you. I wish I could do unholy things which shan’t me mentioned in a letter. My darling, Merry Christmas. I will shower you with gifts when I return, make you feel like the only girl in the world. But until then, I hope you should find my heart adequate.

I love you my dear,

Sincerely,

Your man,

John Lennon.’

And attached, his compass. You giggled giddily, a belated Christmas present close to New-Years. You ran your thumb delicately over the intricate detailing of its outer shell, holding it to your chest as you inhaled a deep breath - grinning with delight.

‘Wednesday the 29th of December, 1943

Darling John,

I wear your gift with pride. Thank you. I have shown the ladies at work and they all want to meet you. You are the luckiest thing to have happened to me, John. I wish you the happiest new year. And hopefully sometime soon we should be able to celebrate it together. Just you and I.

I love you,

Your girl,

(Y/n) Lennon.’

You always addressed your letters like that now, (Y/n) Lennon. Yes, it was highly unconventional, but you could only think of the smile on his face he had described to you in his letters.

‘How it brings a warm feeling to my cold heart.’

He had told you, bringing you to say it over and over again. It was iterated within your letters, you would do it until the day he returned to you, having never actually left.

Your letters continued through the new year, speaking constant declarations of love to one another. After every letter, came another. Every day of January, 1945. And every day of February, 1945. A memorable letter arrived, on:

‘Wednesday the 14th of February, 1945

My love,

My life,

My world,

My everything,

The war keeps going, the fighting bestowing,

Noble men, with the job of ten,

I write with a full heart, though we are apart,

I dream of you, just us two,

A family of our own, our names written in stone,

We shall marry, happy and merry,

As on this dreadful day, we shall shout with joy,

Like every girl and boy, as I love you, my lady.

My girl,

My (Y/n) Lennon.

Sincerely,

Your Valentine,

John Lennon.’

A poem. He writ you a poem. A poem just for you. His girl, his darling, his love, his future wife. He was so proud he showed it to his ‘brothers’, Paul, George and Richard. The men all wolf-whistled for him, cheering him on as he wrote your address onto the letter. “That’s it, Johnny Boy, getting the girls.” They teased and teased, but all he did was laugh - mind clouded with thoughts of you.

John stood on the front line, mindlessly shooting into the bright flashes across no-man’s land. He shot and shot, cold fingers, and numb toes. Yet his chest was warm, the photos of you making his blood rush, making his heart beat quicker.

He looked down at his fingers, clad in his gloves, he smiled. John thought about you, and what your life would be like. Just shooting.

Shooting.

He was pulled away from his thoughts by an unbearable, sharp pain in his right shoulder - the sheer force sending him back into the border of the barrack walls. His ears began ringing, heart thumping, eyes growing weak, as his fellowmen gathered around him.

As his eyelids fell closed, he murmured one last thing, “(Y/n).”

You paced back and forth, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Was he ignoring you? Was he forced into transmission silence? Was he…

You refused to think about that. You wouldn’t let yourself, but the horridly graphic images in your mind thought otherwise, carelessly wandering into the drastic thoughts of what had happened to John.

No letters.

For two whole weeks.

Two bloody weeks.

Nothing.

Not a word.

There was a knock at the door, the first in a while. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t answer it with crossed fingers, praying that there wouldn’t be two men stood their; giving you the unbearable heartbreak of news.

But it wasn’t. It was the postwoman. Thank god it was the post woman. You broke down into her arms when she handed you a letter, all she did was hold you. It broke her heart, she knew how much of an impact your soldier had on you, it brought a tear to her own eye. “He’s okay, sweetheart. He’s okay.” That’s all she said before you were left to your own devices, left to read his letter.

When you had calmed yourself and sat down, you were quick to discover it wasn’t your lover’s handwriting. It was something morphed from a typewriter. Your feeling of unease set itself upon your shoulders once more, as you read the stamp - the same confusion within you as when you had first received a letter from your lover addressed via France.

‘Hospice’

In red writing, as well as your address. You ripped the sealing, immediately reading the neatly written contents of caused distress.

‘Friday the 23rd of March, 1945

Dear Miss (Y/n) (L/n),

As Mr John Winston Lennon’s listed next of kin, we have written to inform you of his whereabouts. Mr John Winston Lennon was shot in his right shoulder in Northern France. Thursday the 15th of February, 1945. Fortunately, he is alive and well, recovering under the treatment of a remaining unnamed hospital in France, away from the current circumstances of war. We have attached an address to send your letters, until Mr John Winston Lennon has made a full recovery, and is able to return to the Front Line. He is awake, and is awaiting your letter.

Sincerely,

Staff at Hospice.’

The tears that ran down your cheeks screamed in relief, he was okay. He was injured. But he was okay. John was okay. Your brave, brave soldier was okay.

You grabbed your pen, and began scribbling, as well as steadily copying down the address as neatly as humanly possible. This letter happened to be the most informal one you would ever send to John Lennon.

‘Tuesday the 27th of February, 1945

My love,

John,

Thank God you’re alright. I’m not religious yet I’ve prayed for days for your safety. I’m sorry if this paper is covered in tears. I’m crying as I write - as I have the past few weeks. I need you, John Winston Lennon. And so help me God if I need to come over there and drag you back home with me, I will. Stay safe. Always.

I will always love you,

Sincerely,

Your very worried love,

(Y/n) Lennon.’

John sat, arm in a sling - reading along with a gentle smile on his lips, desperate to reply. He threw his head back, looking at his hand in the sling, your photos laced in between his fingers. The nurse walked over par his request, smiling gently at him. “Can I help you, sir?” He nodded at the elder woman. “Are you able to help me write a letter?” He watched her lips quirk upwards, as she hurried over to grab a pen and some paper. “Is this for family?” She asked, he was about to address you as his girlfriend, but he knew from experience that people were unwilling to help when there was a chance that the letter fell upon careless hands. “My wife.” He felt good saying that. A simple word. It wasn’t lying, he was just foreshadowing the future, for when he arrived home. His future wife.

“What would you like me to say, sir?” He thought for a moment. He never actually told anyone what words he spoke to you. Each of yours privacy valuable to him. He cleared his throat,

‘Saturday the 31st of March, 1945

My darling (Y/n),

I am terribly sorry for worrying you, princess. And I shall make my reply simple. I shall also make my recovery as quick as possible. I love you dearly, and long for my arrival with you, at the end of this godforsaken war. I love you so very much, I love you so much that you couldn’t possibly imagine. I not only fight for my country, but for you. Just for you. If the handwriting seems unfamiliar, my dear nurse Darla has written upon the uselessness of my writing hand. It’s her birthday today, she turns seventy-two. (Our postage is slow, and may be delayed - Darla).

So farewell,

Sincerely,

John Lennon and his new friend, Darla Trevvors.’

Your heart melted when you read the letter, it reflected on the sweet-natured personality of your John. You were quick to write your response.

‘Wednesday the 4th of April, 1945

To my perfect John,

And his friend Darla,

Darla, thank you for taking care of my John. Goodness knows he needs a friend without his brothers there. I will be forever grateful to you. John, the women at work have also wished for your speedy recovery, but I hope this doesn’t sound selfish when I say I hope it is slow. I’d rather you be safe in a Hospital, than risking your life out there. I could speak the words of Shakespeare to express my love for you, but it could never amount to your incredible songs and poems you bless me with, my sweetheart, and his carer.

Until we speak again,

Sincerely,

(Y/n) Lennon.’

‘Thursday the 12th of April, 1945

My sweet princess (Y/n),

(Again, apologies for the late response, and / or arrival time).

(Y/n), my arm is quickly healing, a week or so more and I am back to full strength, able to write to you freely. Although the restrictions of best-rest will confine me for another few days after, I shall be free to go back to fighting for my country. For our freedom. For you and I. I can imagine the saddened look on your face, and my dear do not worry. I shall be more careful. You see when I was wounded, I was thinking of you. You will be the death of me, my sweet girl. And I will hold my word to that when I marry you.

I shall be writing soon,

Sincerely,

Your love,

John Lennon, and his friend, Darla Trevvors.’

You weren’t fond of the distance between exchanged letters, but were contempt with the fact that your lover was alive and well, recovering in a hospital, although distant. It was true, you weren’t fully happy with the idea that he would return to the dangers of the constant fighting, but it was selfish to think like that. He was determined to fight, and you weren’t in any place to stop him. You may never have exchanged verbal words, but you knew him well enough to read between the lines and know what he wanted. And he wanted to be with his friends. You could all but love him and await his return.

‘Thursday the 26th of April, 1945

My dearest John,

I hope by now you have no sling. And are able to write to me with full mobility. Although I have come to love your nursing companion, Darla, I have missed the gorgeous cursive curls on your writing, and how you scribble my name. I miss you, although I am unaware how. How can you miss someone you have never actually met? But I miss you, my love. I can’t describe how much I’d love to be with you, help you recover.

See you soon,

Sincerely,

(Y/n) Lennon.’

At this point, John’s arm was almost completely useful once more. His right arm had been released from its horrible prison, and now just a bandage on his shoulder replaced the past of injury. So now he was sat, reading your letter weeks after it had been sent, angrily swearing at the postage system from which he was positioned, for keeping him away from your gorgeous words. (Although extremely appreciative of what the hospital had done for him, in this time of desperate need).

‘Friday the 11th of May, 1945

My gorgeous love,

I finally have my arm back. My shoulder is painful, but it is merely a healing wound beneath a clad of bandages. The days are long, the nights are sleepless. My ears still ring with the gunshots, as if a white noise for me to sleep. But during this time however, I have been busy. I have written a song for you, my love. When I see you, you’ll hear it. I’ll play it to you on my guitar. I am unable to send you the rhythm through words, but I hope the poem through the words is music enough. I shall return to fighting soon, so my address will return to what was.

Sincerely,

Your solider,

John Lennon.’

Attached, was the most beautiful thing you have ever read. And instead of going in your letter basket, it was pinned to your fridge with the help of magnets.

‘I give her all my love

That's all I do

And if you saw my love

You'd love her too

I love her

She gives my everything

And tenderly

The kiss my lover brings

She brings to me

And I love her

A love like ours

Could never die

As long as I

Have you near me

Bright are the stars that shine

Dark is the sky

I know this love of mine

Will never die

And I love her

Bright are the stars that shine

Dark is the sky

I know this love of mine

Will never die

And I love her’

You read it again and again, over and over. It was about you. You. Your perfect love wrote a song about you. About you. You were over the moon. Both about the song, and about the fact that he was recovering healthily. But that meant he was back in the trenches by now. Back fighting by now. Back in dancer by now. And you were back to praying to an entity you didn’t believe in. God help your John Winston Lennon.

‘Monday the 28th of May, 1945

My love,

I expect you are back in the trenches by now? I hope your spirit is not lowered. Of course I worry for you, but I understand how you want to fight, and win. How you want to leave with a full heart of accomplishment. So I will write to you so proud of your resilience. Say hello to the boys for me, would you? I know you find the drama of my work place amusing, so I will tell what happened the other day. One of the ladies I work with, Angelica, (we don’t really like her that much), had been sleeping with our boss. That surprised all of us, but I am now five pounds richer, having betted on that’s why she got nice new shoes on a working woman’s pay check. And thank you ever so much for the song, I, sure you’ll be pleased to know it’s pinned on the fridge and I read it every day when I walk past it. I have it memorised actually. I do hope this reaches you quicker then the last ones.

Stay safe, my brave soldier,

Sincerely,

(Y/n) Lennon.’

You wanted to keep his spirits as high as possible now that he had returned to the bottomless pit of a depressive hell called the borders protruding through France. He found the gossip and drama amusing, pretty much knowing everything about what was going on at your factory while he was away. He was not only your lover, but your best friend, also.

‘Saturday the 2nd of June, 1945

Princess,

I am ever so optimistic. The yanks truly have been helping us. With every aspect of the fighting effort. I feel this prolonged few years is finally coming to an end, and I will be able to hold you in my arms soon enough. I am so glad you liked your song, there will be many more to come when the band gets on its feet. Thank god the postage is quicker, as well. During my hospital stay, they took the mick. Snail post, if you will. And that doesn’t surprise me with Angelica, wasn’t she the one that slept with Sylvia’s husband, a few months back? She’s like a bloody rabbit, that woman. Anyway, my morale is high and I am determined to keep it that way, I am almost certain we should be together soon.

Sincerely,

Yours truly,

John Lennon.

(P.s. I hope you don’t mind, the lads wrote you a letter, and begged me to send it).’

He had written, a small smiley face at the end. There was a glowing warmth in your chest when his happiness radiated out of the paper, almost visible through his carefully written words. You turned the envelope upside down, finding another piece of paper, with an array of messy handwriting in it.

‘Saturday the 2nd of June, 1945

My dearest (Y/n),

Just joking, love. We just wanted to say hello. I’m Paul, Paul McCartney, Good old Johnny boys on cloud nine. You’ve made him a happier man. It’s soppy, but it keeps everyone else happy, and I suppose that’s what we need. (I helped him with that song), no doubt he’s nicked all the credit like a cheeky git, I can’t wait to meet you - see what angelic beauty John is always bragging about.

So long,

Paul.

Hi! My names Richard Starkey, but everyone calls me Ringo - it’s something weird the lads call me because of the rings I always wear, anyways I just wanted to write to let you know we’re taking good care of your John, and we’re all eager to meet you. (With the way he talks about you it’s like you’re the Ruler of England). And can your mum make me some of those gloves? They just look so nice and my hands get a bit cold.

Bye, thanks pet,

Ringo.

Bonjour, je suis George. I don’t know if that’s right, some of the soldiers taught me it, but for all I know I could be saying anything. It’s nice to meet you (finally), even though it’s though paper. You make our John Boy so happy, and I also wanted to ask if you’d make him give me his spare chocolate. He’s got a load and is stashing it. Nice talking to you!

The much more handsomer than John,

George.’

Their letter caused you to laugh, their handwriting almost unreadable. You showed a few of the ladies at work, who told you to: ‘keep that John lad’, while you were all gossiping about Angelica and the boss. Julie had already called dibs on ‘maid of honour’ position, making you roll your eyes, attempting to construct the twentieth gun of the morning.

‘Saturday the 9th of June, 1945

My handsome John,

(And I suppose Paul, Ringo and George),

I’m over the moon to hear your optimism. Hopefully any day now. It was nice to hear from your friends, and please thank Paul for his contributions to my incredible fridge decor. And tell George if he wants chocolate, just give him yours and I’ll send you some special from my rations (I’m sure they’re better than the muck they give you over there). And when you all get back, I’ll get you as much chocolate as you all want. And please give the gloves to Ringo, he very politely asked for some, and I just couldn’t say no. But in all seriousness, stay safe, my love.

Sincerely,

Your girl,

(Y/n) Lennon.’

The following letters were uneventful for a few weeks, but it was comforting for him to finally have a nice feeling of normality, not a suicide mission waiting to happen. It was also amazing that John had such great friends, ones he could confide in, and them the same. You also had a routine, going to work and back, talking about what each other had been up to, listening to the radio. Telling John about your day. It was comforting.

You even went to the library for the first time in a while, finding the opportunity on the way home from work one day. Life was going up, you were sure of it. Not by much, but since the Americans had truly contributed to the war effort, Germany was quickly loosing all sense of control they had one the outcome of the war, perhaps there could be a happy ending, after all.

‘Thursday the 16th of August, 1945

My love,

My life,

My world,

There has been talk of this all ending. Many of us attend a funeral today. A British spy ran across no-man’s land, and was unfortunately shot by his own bullet. It’s difficult whether to decipher friend or foe, whether carrying a flag or not. It hurts, you know? These men have girlfriends, fiancées, wives, children, they have families. And it’s all being given up for the fault of power hungry, selfish men who sit back and watch noblemen die for a pointless cause. And in moments like these I can help but think of you, my love. My inspiration, my reason to keep fighting. It’s you, it’s all for you. Every man I shoot, every trigger I pull, every effort I make, it’s for you.

Stay strong my princess,

Sincerely,

John Lennon.’

The days moved quicker now, like a cycle, it was a comforting feeling - was the world going back to how it was? No. Certainly not. It never will, never can. But everything has to change eventually. And if that meant being left to fend for yourself with a pen and paper, then so be it. Maybe, just maybe, it was actually going to be over.

‘Tuesday the 21st of August, 1945

My dearest,

I am sorry for your loss. As I am sorry for everyone’s. I hope the boys got their gifts, and you are all doing okay. I’m right here, John. Right here. Believe me, if you needed me to, I’d march my way to France myself. I just need you, as much as you need me. Not much longer now, hopefully. You can stop winning a loosing battle that wasn’t yours to be fought.

Sincerely,

Your soulmate,

(Y/n) Lennon.’

‘Monday the 27th of August, 1945

My everything,

There has been a lot of fighting these past few days. More than usual, which says a lot for the crisis of a war. The Germans have given up a lot of land to us, retreating their territory further and further back. It’s like a final surge to the end, to victory. It has been hard, and I would be lying to tell you I haven’t struggled. I can hardly describe in words how much I just want to hold you, kiss you, love you, dance with you, sing to you, make love to you, marry you, do unholy things with you that are forbidden to be mentioned in writing. I need you (Y/n). My beautiful girl.

See you soon,

Sincerely,

John Lennon.’

‘Friday the 31st of August, 1945

My one and only John,

The days are peaceful now. Now that I have a true hope of having you home. I have been listening to the radio religiously, my love. It only speaks of good things. My heart is yours, John Lennon. Finish it. Finish everything these horrible men started and come home. I love you ever so much. Just keep fighting, for me. For you. For us.

Sincerely,

Your (Y/n) Lennon.’

That was when it happened. The day two longing heart leapt for joy, after three years of bottomless hope. The day the guns fell silent. All the guns, fell silent.

‘Sunday the 2nd of September, 1945

Baby,

It’s over. It’s fucking over. They still haven’t given me your letter, but it’s over. I cry while I write this. My darling it is finished. I shot my final bullet. I killed my final man. The war is over. It was over in the west months ago, but not here. Here, is where I don’t know. But what I do now, is. The fighting is done. I’m coming home to you my sweetheart, I’m coming home.

Sincerely,

Your John Lennon.’

‘Sunday the 2nd of September, 1945

My sweet John,

They told us on the radio today that it was over. That it’s finished. That this Godforsaken waste of a war is over. It’s bloody over, John. They’ve announced it in stages it started in May and took practically years to get to you, my whole life. Please hurry and come home. Please.

Sincerely,

(Y/n) Lennon.’

It took ages to get John home. That ages felt like an eternity, just waiting for your beloved to come home. They were sent home in groups, depending on where you came from, and the Liverpudlians were send home in Early December. Thursday the 6th of December, 1945 - more specifically.

‘Thursday the 6th of December, 1945

Love of my life,

I am finally coming home. We have been moved countless times, just to be kept in this foreign land of which I am unaware. But now I am seated on a ferry, back to port in Liverpool. I will update you in a few days to let you know which one, when I am told. (If you even receive this letter). I didn’t want to get your hopes up, just for nothing, but now. I am actually coming home. Home to you. I estimate it should take three days from here (wherever here is), to you. What’s a few more days of waiting, after almost four years?

I’ll see you soon,

Sincerely,

John.’

You received the letter on Friday the 7th of December, it was sent first class, along with a new return address to send your own, and a pack of first class stamps, of your own. Apparently now they thought it was more important than ever to connect loved ones. And as his first of kin, yours and his letters took priority over distant relatives trying to talk back and forth.

‘Friday the 7th of December, 1945

My sweet darling John,

I have received your letter, and should only hope you have received mine. I am currently on a train to Liverpool, and I have booked into a hotel by the port. I’ll be there when you get here. I hope the journey isn’t too treacherous, and the seas remain calm. Tell the lads I said hello. I’m off at the next stop, just tell me where you are, and I’ll be there, John.

Sincerely,

Yours,

(Y/n) Lennon.’

John was due to arrive at port in Liverpool, on Sunday the 9th of December, 1945. He and his mates just sat below deck, singing, and just enjoying their freedom. “We still gonna be in a band when we get back to port, lads?” Paul asked, I’m all seriousness. They all hummed in agreement. “We all live in walking distance, we should be able to.” Ringo suggested. “Yeah, that’s if John Boy here doesn’t pack up and move somewhere with his missus.” George joked, elbowing his friend, to which John disagreed, shaking his head ‘no’. “We’ll stay in Liverpool. I’ve inherited my parent’s house, got the letter a few weeks ago.” He took a swig out of his water bottle. “What if she wants to go, lad?” Paul retorted, raising an eyebrow. John just shrugged. “Then we’ll go.” They all looked at him. “I’ll go anywhere with her. Home is where the heart is, and the heart is with her.” He explained. “Yeah ‘cause I thought she loved where she lived?” George asked. “She did, but I know her, it holds a lot of bad memories that place. Bad, bad memories.” They didn’t say much more, when the post came around, John thanking the man for his routine letter.

“We’re arriving tomorrow, lads.” The post man told them, about to walk off, before being stopped by John. “Where we docking?” “At the port.” The man raised an eyebrow. “Which one?” “The only one left.” This took them all back. “What d’ya mean?” George asked. “The Blitz, were lucky if there is anything left of Liverpool.” That brought an uncomfortable silence upon them all. Was there any home to go back to? John shook his head, opening the letter, and was quick the respond with his own.

‘Saturday the 8th of December, 1945

My darling (Y/n),

We should arrive at port tomorrow. The only one there, apparently. The Blitz hurt my home, I’ve just been told. Me and the lads are trying to not let this ruin our spirits, we’re almost home, after all. Will you stay in Liverpool? With me? It occurs to me that we never actually decided. The lads say hello, and I’ll see you tomorrow. You’ll see us coming, promise.

Truly yours,

Sincerely,

John.’

That brought you to now.

You were stood on the port of Liverpool, surrounded by many other women and children, also waiting for their lover’s return. You grasped his letter tightly, twiddling your thumbs as you rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet. The woman beside you looked the same, but she smiled at you. “Excited?” She asked, her lips trembling also. “And nervous.” You nodded appreciatively. “You?” She also nodded. “Just happy he’s safe.” She told you, causing an anxious laugh from the two of you. “God, I know how you feel.” You agreed, but you were both silenced by the horn of a nearby vessel coming into port.

Many men were stood over the edge, waving their hats in a stampeded cluster. Everyone began clapping, a deafening noise as it drew ever closer. It felt like an eternity just waiting for it to dock, before the sound appeared over a nearby megaphone: “ladies, your men are back.” You all whistled, clapping off the bravery that the men had forcibly surrendered to, for the past six years.

One by one, they filed off of the boat, each going straight to their loved ones, an overbearing feeling of love and companionship surrounded you, clouding your thoughts with the man who had invaded just three years before. John Winston Lennon. “Good luck.” The lady next to you said, before running forward into the arms of a man who spun her in circles, and fluttered her face in kisses. You smiled thoughtfully, happy that her love was home safe and well.

You looked around you, watching as ones left in twos, the port slowly becoming less and less crowded, as more and more men returned home. You looked down at your shoes, trying to be patient in waiting, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to collect yourself. You inhaled deeply, iterating to yourself that everything was going to be okay.

“(Y/n)?”

Your eyes shot open at the unfamiliar yet homely voice. You were frozen, staring at your shoes. Slowly, you looked up, and were met with the most gorgeous of hazel eyes staring back at you, his mouth agape, the messy mop of hair on his head as flowing incoherently in the breeze as your mind finally accepted who it was.

“John?”

Your feet became unstuck, and your worries melted away. Your feet moved fast than ever before, as did his. Your eyes flooded with tears, loud trembles heard as you ran into an embrace. John wrapped his arms around you, and held you so close that it was like he was afraid to let you go. Like you would get away from him. You stood like that for a moment, both crying into each other’s shoulders, holding each other so tight it was suffocating. He pulled your face up to meet his own, his eyes red and puffy. He leaned down to capture your lips with his own, a slow, desperate, long-awaited kiss. When you separated, it didn’t feel like long enough. It never could be. “I love you.” He whispered, kissing you once more, each kiss more fiery and sensual than the last. “I love you too.” You replied wholeheartedly, crying now more than ever. He looked at you for a moment, just appreciating you - holding you close.

John quickly released you from his grasp, digging into his pocket for something. He slowly lowered himself onto his left knee, holding a gorgeous ring in his right hand, his left was linking with your own. “(Y/n), I’ve wanted to do this since the day we first wrote. Since the first hello. I realised quickly that I needed you. That you were what my life was missing. I realised what I was fighting for. Why I was fighting. It’s all because of you. Every time you address your letters as (Y/n) Lennon I imagine our wedding all over again. Imagine our lives together. (Y/n), I need you. I always have. And I always will. You put a smile on an injured soldiers face. I don’t deserve you, (Y/). No one ever will. But here I am, asking you to fulfil our promises. Will you be (Y/n) Lennon? My gorgeous pen pal, will you marry me?”

You couldn’t breathe, God you were hyperventilating. You listened to his speech, and your heart broke and pieced itself together allover again, in one go. You nodded, you nodded so hard you felt as if your head was going to fall off, separate from your neck. “Yes, yes, of course I will.” You managed to say between sobs, his own colliding with yours, as he slipped the small diamond ring onto your finger.

Your soldier,

Your soulmate,

Your darling,

Your fiancée,

Your pen pal,

John Winston Lennon.

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mercurytrinemoon · 4 years ago

Text

Another post on Moon signs you can drag me for

Before we get into the actual thing, I'd like to say this post initially started as something else but ultimately, what I tried to put across is, sometimes Moon signs aren’t that easy to decipher. It’s easy to grasp overall characteristics of the signs and then learn how to identify their specific traits. But what people seem to forget it that Moon represents the deepest side of us & our inner world - it’s uncommon to really see someone’s side of it unless you really pay attention. Sometimes I’m surprised to see what someone’s Moon sign is even if I know this person well. Meaning, people usually hide that part of them - or they just simply process it internally and others can’t see their emotional reactions. It’s also uncommon for folks these days to fully express their emotional needs so it gets even trickier to pin-point their Moon characteristics. I don't think I have to mention this but, of course, your entire chart should be taken into account, as well as house placement, aspects. Personally, I like to also look at Moon's dispositor.

Let’s start from my friends, Gemini Moons, who, I feel, get a bad rep for not showing their feelings and scanning every emotion like an AI. Nah-ah. I know this one Gemini Moon whose immediate emotional reactions aren’t very cerebral in the sense of processing everything in the mind and intellectualizing it aka, what people like to label as being un-emotional. Instead her reactions are often fast (air energy) but physically expressed through Mercury (Gemini Moon’s dispositor) and Sun (overall identity) – she has them both in Aries. She’s a crybaby who can burst into tears in a matter of seconds. So she’s not something that would stereotypically be assigned to a Gemini Moon. But what I did notice is that all Gemini Moons tend to have this weird look on their face when they’re processing stuff. As if they were about to have a brain malfunction; they stop and have that specific worried look. They also like to either gossip or tell stories (either real or made up lol); they’re great with words - they can talk for hours if they feel comfortable with you. They just crave interaction and mental stimulation. Their quick reactions tend to make them effortlessly witty. Even if they’re a withdrawn Gemini type, they make up for it through social media and technology or just a quiet exploration. My shy Cancer pal with Moon in Gemini is now a brand/website designer and an instagram queen who travels the world. This is great energy for content creators in general. And don’t forget that Geminis need to have their fingers in many pies. It’s because they always have a backup plan… and they get bored easily so they need that chaos around them to feel at home. They like to have options in everything, which is kind of funny cause it’s hard for them to make up their minds and actually choose something. And they store a lot of information in their brains… I feel like it must be exhausting, no?

On the other side of the axis, whenever I see someone with a Sagittarius Moon, I can immediately say “yup, a Sag Moon indeed” (probably thanks to my Sag stellium), meaning, they all seem the same to me. Sag Moons often find comfort in exploration - best if it’s literal travel. They always seem to need to free themselves from their surroundings, family, roots or their own culture to discover something new and exciting, even if it’s only in the imaginary words - through books, movies and other medias. Their happiness always lies somewhere else from where they currently are. Like, I think all Sagittarius Moons that I know have left their parents and went their own paths early on. And they have this yolo attitude. Just like Sagittarius Suns, they’re massive dorks, probably also obnoxious… sometimes in a REALLY annoying way. They’re either a) very wise and curious b) lil preachy and stuck up c) just plain dumb clowns with no filter. But they’re all funny. And they take things lightly, with a natural ease. This means sometimes they may offend other people just because they assume everyone’s as chill as they are; „relax! I was just kidding!” - that’s a phrase you’ll hear from them often… I mean, unless you’re a jokester yourself and you’re unmoved by their sarcastic or teasing words. They have somewhat spiritual or philosophical nature so besides making you laugh, be prepared for deep monologues. They want to believe everything will eventually fall into place. It’s also hard to bring them down - or I should say, it’s hard to make them acknowledge that they're feeling down - they always try to distract or cover it up with a joke, usually a self-depricating one. If Sagittarius Moon (or Sagittarius in general tbh) is telling you that they’re unhappy, then it’s serious.

I’ve noticed there comes a point in life for a Libra Moon where they just have enough. They’re too nice for everyone and one day they wake up and yell about how they have to do everything for everyone and everyone wants something from them and bLah bLah. Makes me think of when Bieber was this overly nice kid and then he was like “I’M NOT TAKING PICTURES WITH FANS ANYMOREEEE AAGhJFJFUWIUq”. Yup, a Libra Moon, everyone. They know how to charm and appeal to people, I think overall they’re easily liked by others. Sometimes it’s simply because they like to kiss people’s ass just to avoid being rejected. That’d be a Libra Moon’s nightmare. They like other people’s company too much. And they thrive in relationships and in a big circle of friends. What they hate is confrontations (like every other Libra placement omg). They may be good mediators when it comes to other people but if they’re involved in an argument they get sooooo passive aggressive. They just don’t know how to handle conflicts - it’s as if their nervous system wasn’t designed for emotional outbursts (because, you know, everything needs to be peaceful and harmonious Venus-style). A fussy or angry Libra Moon will suddenly get loud as they blame someone for something… and then they’ll leave the room cause they’re scared to even hear the other side of the argument. Or, alternatively, they’ll make a doormat out of themselves just to stay quiet and avoid causing any rift. And making decisions? I think it’s common for them to have two different romantic interests and feeling so dramatically torned between them *Alexa play Agony from Into the Woods*. Then when they decide, they have problems breaking the bad news to one of them.

On the other end we have Aries Moons. *deep breath* Listen, I think I’ve said enough about having Moon in Aries (or rather purely dissing it) but last time it made a bit of controversy so why not wreak even more havoc. I have a good description for this one: I will punch you but be gentle with me cause it’s easy to break my fragile heart. So basically, imagine putting Buttercup and Bubbles into one person. And honestly, I need to say this, women with this placement are just hot badasses, look at friggin Angelina Jolie. The queen of badass. The queen of hot. People say because Aries folks move quickly (literally and figuratively lol), they often get bored with whatever got them excited last week... or yesterday. Ha, yeah, right. You get their heart to open up and they’re going to have their eyes for you ONLY, like a lil puppy. Give us treats and we’ll build our world around you. But NOT in a clingy way by any means, we need our space and independence after all. My lil niece is an Aries Moon and ever since I started playing guitar with her, she became my #1 fan or something. That’s the energy. But we get easily bored with day-to-day stuff so yeah, there’s that. Innocent and clumsy yet raw in their emotions - so there’s potential to make mistakes sometimes (or a lot of times) or having this tunnel vision, like „I want this and I don’t care about anything else!”. And then excusing it with some „but the heart wants what it wants” crap (looking @ ya, Selena Gomez). They experience constant inner movement and turbulence that needs a physical outlet in order to feel satisfied. WE NEED PASSION IN OUR LIVES, OKAY?!?!?? now leave me alone

Aquarius Moons aren’t as cold as you might think. People like to describe them as if their Moons actually disappeared from their charts: dEtaCheD, uNeMotiOnaL, tHey fEeL nOtHinG. It’s just they don’t sit and dwell on things, they find solutions to the problems. If something doesn’t make them feel right, they just leave that situation. They do care about other people’s well-being, they’re very sensitive in that regard, they’re humanitarians after all. Yeah, they detach, but from their own emotions - in order to make sense of them. They may seem like snow queens sometimes (and this comes from an Aqua rising) but they’re really friendly and if you pique Aqua Moon’s interest, they’re going to be curious about you. They like new exciting things so if you’re cool enough, you have their attention. Usually they’re pretty progressive as well and can’t stand injustice. That’s why you’ll see them standing up for those who are in need. Uranian energy gives them a specific type of sharp intuition and wit. Idk they’re just cute in a quirky way. But this buzzing, fast energy is a great recipe for anxiety, over-thinking and frequent changes of heart. Similarly to Sadges, they need constant exploration and stimuli. Intelligent, people-oriented (but not people-pleasing! Look to Libras for that), individualistic. They definitely need their own space and independence. Their decision-making is fast and it’s easy for them to just say „screw it, I’m doing this”. My Aquarius Moon friend just casually decided that she’s moving to Turkey cause nothing in our city (or even country) seems interesting or helping her expand… So she was like, see ya suckers, I’m leaving.

Leo Moons shine from within. You’ll spot them from a mile away even if they’re on the shyer side. They’re all lil stars no matter their profession. Very expressive people & easily excitable. Art galleries, live shows, theater - they love a creative environment even if they don’t pursue that lifestyle themselves... One of my Leo Moon friends is an art junkie – suggest taking her to an obscure play at the local bar, a music festival, a weird museum – she’ll say yes in the blink of an eye. And she loves discussing these things. A Leo Moon may not see themselves as artistically inclined, but usually sooner or later they at least try dipping their toes in music, arts, acting, dancing... you name it. They’ll learn a simple 3-chord song on a ukulele and then play it to you in excitement. Imagine a lil kid making you a puff piece and being super proud of it. Sometimes they just need some encouragement. Remember, Leos feed off of praise, that’s their fuel. Doesn’t mean they’re all proud, egotistical people but what it does mean is that they need a lil assurance to gain their self-confidence. I lived with a Leo Sun/Moon for almost 15 years (who’s a musician btw so yeah, a classic creative Leo type) - he did have some issues lol but ego wasn’t one of them. Drama followed him everywhere but I’m pretty sure he disliked it himself. BUT, with that being said, I feel like Leo Moons tend to dramatize themselves internally. People say it’s something Virgos or Geminis would do - because of their tendency to overthink, but Leos can just go straight to a worst-case scenario in their heads simply because they exaggerate everything. So don’t be surprised to see a Leo Moon feeling down and anxious. On the bright side, be their cheerleader and they’ll give that to you in return. They need sparks and dullness kills their upbeat spirit. They need to feel their own heartbeat so the feeling of excitement is crucial for their well-being. Romantic, giving and kind. They’re fixed fire so once they’re set on something or someone, they give their all and are rather loyal.

I feel like my chart low-key tells me I should dislike Taurus Moons but I just want to melt in their arms and just stay there? Like, forever? Low maintenance but a bit slow-moving and stubborn. They won’t settle easily, at least not officially, so you need to have a lot of patience with them. They need 3 things to feel secure and at peace: physical stimuli, time and a stable place they know they can always come back to. And it’s not like all of them are total lazy homebodies, they may be active spirits & travellers but they are going to have a reallyyyyy nice cosy flat somewhere near their childhood place (gotta be be close to their moms, you know). Not necessary materialistic but they may have one thing that they collect throughout their entire life and they won’t. ever. get. rid. of. it. There needs to be at least one constant in their life - like you know when Elton John decided to go to therapy but one thing he stuck to was shopaholism? Very Taurus Moon of him. Also, they’re very affectionate. In fact, may have issues differentiating between affection and passion - this is actually something Taurus Moon and Aries Moon have in common. Pro tip - and this is in regard to all Taurus placements - don’t smell bad when you’re around them (I mean, don't smell bad in general, no one likes stinky people lol). They have a sensitive smell. Doesn’t help that they like to smell everything. EVERYTHING. I swear, Taurus, stop sticking your nose in every single thing!!! You don't need to know how that piece of utensil smells like. Jeez.

Scorpio Moon (shoutout to those who remember me accidentally calling them sporpio last time I made a post on Moons lol). I honestly don’t know what to tell you... I feel like all you hear about Scorpio Moon is 100% true, there’s nothing to debunk here. It’s the Moon of extremes. Prone to jealousy and surpressing emotions; severe trust issues; they’re instigators. I was low-key bullied by a few Scorpio Moons when I was in school so there’s that. Very secretive and private. Scorpio Moon will be like “I’m in control of the situation!!!!” and you’ll just look at them and think, yeah, right, looks like the situation is controlling you. But keep being in denial, sure. Like, don’t get me wrong, Scorpios in general can be TOTAL SWEETHEARTS OMG but ya’ll have issues. Even celebrities who have this placements... Think Beyonce or Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus... I feel like they have issues lol, especially with control and the need for everything to be perfectly the way they want it to be. To be fair, that’s probably why they’re all so influential and high status: it’s either their way or highway. They need constant reinvention; they’re the ones to wake up one day and decide they’re going through a spiritual awakening blah blah. They also like to talk about dark and shocking topics while having casual lunch with you... So like, be warned that you may end up with a depressed mood after talking to them for 10 minutes. And their mood swings... don’t even get me started on that.

I don't know where to start with Virgo Moons... I feel like they're very calculated and nit-picky but they're a lot warmer than Virgo Suns. I think I called them softies in my last Moon post. Very sweet people but prone to anxiety. You gotta experience seeing them having a heart attack over someone mixing bananas with milk or messing with their stuff that’s been put in a perfect arrangement. I saw a Virgo Moon once literally squealing shouting "YOU'RE GONNA RUIN YOUR LAPTOP WITH THAT SUPERGLUE!!!" Highly entertaining to watch, not gonna lie. Gordon Ramsay has his Moon in Virgo - it’s conjunct Uranus and Pluto so that’s an extreme but I think him being fed up with people over small inconsistencies in their food prep is a perfect example of this energy (btw his chart is hilarious, it literally explains EVERYTHING). They're VERY picky with their food as well, just as Virgo Suns tend to be. Like, they’ll only have a specific type of single origin coffee or they’ll be vegan or something. Self-critical over their work, which is a plus... except for when finishing a simple task takes them a few hours because they want to make it perfect. They take everything seriously. This of course doesn't mean they're total bores - on the contrary, Mercurial energy gives them witty approach and a talent for choosing the right words at the right time. Tho they can be a bit awkward or shy with it. Can be as bubbly as Gemini but the grounded earthy energy gives them more practical and almost nurturing nature - earth signs are providers after all and Virgo is the sign of service - helping others is like their second nature. I’ve noticed they often find comfort in devoting themselves to a choosen task - this is why if they pursue something, they’re really good at it. They’re also very likely to dissect their emotions.

I’m not a fan of water Moons in general but Pisces Moon is the best water Moon in my opinion. Maybe because I like Pisces overall. I think it’s like a tweaked Sagittarius Moon - just more internalized, withdrawn & gloomy. But unlike Sag, who has a tendency to be an adventurous optimist, Pisces likes to focus on the negatives instead. Obviously, they can be very upbeat, they’re Jupiter-ruled after all, but there’s somehing whiny about them lol. Just like Sadges, they dream big and have their standards put up sooo high but if there's not much active energy in their charts, they’re often too passive to actually fullfill any of that - or I should say, they’re stuck daydreaming about it, believing it’ll just magically manifest for them... OR they do everything with an apathetic approach. What I do like about them is that they’re funny. And really chill - sometimes to the point of coming off as confused or hazy. I feel like a lot of them would just love to sleep all day... or sit by the lake and just think about the world. Most of them are also compassionate folks - again, maybe a bit too much. Hey Pisces, you don’t have to take everything to heart, it’s okay. On the bright side, they have big imagination and the ability to disconnect and just create. I have a few Pisces Moons in the family: one’s that sleepy artistic type with grand visions, one is an asshole-ish but funny entrepreneur with a questionable work ethic and one is a witty IT guy who’s actually a workaholic and likes to shut in his own world of computers and numbers or whatever he does there... So there’s this factor of tunnel vision, escapism and, on the more negative side, being kinda iffy and almost addicted to the way they want things to be. Once they set their eyes on something it’s done deal…

My issue with Capricorn Moons is that they're often trying to be sooooo mature omg, like, loosen up a bit. It usually starts when they're in their later teens... They can be the most rebellious kid that likes to have fun and suddenly they'll be like "I'm too old for this ugh grow up" *judgmental stare*. My 18-year old niece once literally roasted my sister that she's in her 30s and still doesn't have her own place (well so do I so I guess she also indirectly roasted me as well???). And she was SO deadpan with it. Because she herself wants to be independent and start a family before turning 25. This is classic Capricorn Moon energy. They suck out joy out of everything lol. Of course, OF COURSE, it depends on the whole chart but I feel like worst-case scenario is that at one point in their life (or maybe even a few times throughout it) they go through a massive shake-up that makes them change their attitude and re-evaluate their structures. There's this multi-instrumentalist Yvette Young - she's a sweet, funny Cancer/Leo mix but her Moon is in Capricorn. She used to be a competitive pianist but the pressure that was put on her has led her to severe health issues. Like yes, she’s now an extremely talented musician - thanks to family’s expectations & a rigid schooling system (Saturn) but it did cost her a lot. She has recovered since then but I think it's a perfect example of this energy. It’s very ambitious and hardworking but emotionally demanding in the sense that you have to actually put your emotions aside in order to deal with the rest. Another thing, because Moon can be associated with family, there's often a weird dynamic surrounding this topic. I don't think I've met a Capricorn Moon that had a completely healthy and happy relationship with their fam or one of the family members. Or, alternatively, there can be a strong bond between one of them but usually created in the atmosphere of hardships.

Last but not least, Cancer Moons. I had three school friends with this placement and all of them made this sad, whiny face as they said „oh I don’t knoooow anymoreee” when they were feeling torned or frustrated. To be fair, two of them are water Suns so for them, it added to the mushyness. All Cancer Moons I know are family people or better yet, baby people. One of those school friends is now a guidance counsellor, working with kids; the other turned her instagram into a gallery of her own child after she gave birth. So much kid content, omg. There’s also something very indecisive about them… or I should say, hesitant. They’re not very fast at making decisions. Also, what’s interesting, they’re kind of like walking libraries, they remember a lot – so they store a lot of information in their brains just like air signs but they process it in a completely different way – emotional, obviously. I think this also makes them hold grudges a lot. For them it’s more of a question of „how does it make me feel?” rather than „how valid is it?”. There’s certain stubborness in them in that regard because they don’t keep their minds open. It’s also hard for them to walk away from people and situations, like a crab pinching you with its claws – it won’t let go. Sensitive but not easy to open up; very protective of themselves and their loved ones & they tend to shut down in their crab shells. But they may crave connection and the feeling of belonging. Also very caring and with a big imagination. They’re very receptive of their environment so mood swings are a thing for them.

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fairestwriting · 3 years ago

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Could I request headcanons for the dorm leaders where they and their crush got hit by a spell that ended up forcing them to hold hands, only one hand per person, for several hours? I can tell that some of the boys would be blushing messes and I look forward to that :) Please and thank you!

Riddle Rosehearts

Oh, the scandal. Riddle has no idea how to deal with this, he'd been hoping he'd get to hold your hand one day, sure, but like this? It's way too embarrassing, so much more than what he can handle.

He's very meek all day long, blushing and stuttering whenever you ask him what's wrong. What's wrong? Oh, not much, he just feels like he's about to pass out because you're way too close! Sometimes he'll forget your condition and go back to his normal stern self, only to remember it and just go red all over again.

It's a bit of a mess of a day, you'll have to be patient with him because he hadn't been prepared to deal with something like this at all. If you tease him during the time you're attached, he's gonna be very huffy once you're finally apart, scolding you for the "inappropriate behavior".

Leona Kingscholar

Annoyed. He barely left his room, and now his hand is attached to some herbivore's like they're paired magnets? Sure, it's the cute one he likes, but he's still cranky about it. Say what you will about him, Leona just likes his independence.

Kind of goes about business as usual, skipping classes to sleep even if you protest. When you start trying to speak up against his behavior, he'll come up with the idea of tugging you so you fall on top of him, forcing you to nap too.

If you get flustered by that, then his time attached to you suddenly becomes much more interesting. He'll be teasing you until you're finally apart, which is when he thanks the Great Seven he won't have anyone interfering with his precious sleep anymore. That is... unless you actually want to join him again, he'll suggest, and you can't tell if it's a joke or not — He leaves before you can reply.

Azul Ashengrotto

Trying hard to play it cool, as always. It's just a spell, it's not like it's his fault he ended in such an embarrassing condition, he'll be telling himself, and it's not nearly as effective at calming his nerves as he wishes.

Cancels most of the business he had scheduled for today, not wanting you to see the less than savoury things he'd be up to without a doubt. Tries to make it into something "fun", taking you for a sort of tour around the Lounge to distract you... and himself too.

When the spell breaks, he's also extremely thankful — Not that he doesn't like spending time with you, he'll assure, and then blush at the embarrassing thing he just said. It was just... a really nervewracking time for him, he mutters, and you're not sure if he meant for you to hear it or not.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim really just takes everything in a stride, and a spell like this feels more like a blessing than a curse, really. He gets to spend time with you, and you're holding hands? He's surprised he never had the idea to have Jamil cast that on you two before, really.

Uses it as an excuse to spend time with you. Smiling cheerfully and swinging your arms as you walk, it's hard to not get swept up on his energy. He'll be throwing a party tonight, and he hopes you're still attached by then!

Whether you are or not, he still wants you over, and will probably be holding your hand even after the spell breaks. Ah, I think it's not fully gone yet! My hand keeps going back to yours! He says, and it's a blatant lie, but you're both laughing about it.

Vil Schoenheit

Also one to be annoyed. Complains about how sweaty his hand would be if it took to long to break the spell, he'd definitely have to take his gloves to the dry cleaner now... he has spares, of course, but that was his favorite pair.

He'll try to figure out a way to connect both of your schedules, he'll probably need to cancel a lot of things if he had any work today, which he doesn't mind much, things happen — But he still doesn't want to be improductive, and he doesn't want you to be improductive either.

Sadly, it's not a very romantic time. Vil is far too focused in just keeping his day efficient and making sure you don't use the spell as an excuse to be lazy either, though if you try to engage in some flirting at the right time, he'll likely humor you. It's a funny situation, now that he actually thinks about it.

Idia Shroud

Dying. Just dying. There's no way he's going to make it through all this time holding hands with you, do you even have enough love points to do something like that yet? And when he came to you so unprepared, too...! Idia is mumbling all sorts of things, glowing bright red, and you can understand maybe only one or two words out of all the babbling.

He'll insist you spend the day in his room, he would genuinely just faint if anyone saw him taking part in PDA, or worse, ask him if the two of you are dating. To avoid any further awkwardness, Idia will insist you two just hide for the day.

Then it's not nearly as bad, just... he can't play games without both hands, and with you so close, he can't focus on watching anime either at all. Poor guy's just having a really hard time. As soon as it's over, he locks himself up for a whole week, mortified.

Malleus Draconia

Unbothered. He's happy to have an excuse to spend time with you, of course, but the undeniable inconvenience of the situation is something he's not really thrilled about. Oh, well. He supposes he'll just have to take it easy today.

Malleus will urge you to do the same, though if you refuse, he doesn't mind following you around as you go about your routine either. He'd actually have a decent time with that, learning about the things you do in your day to day life.

And, of course, you'll be terrifying all your friends away, probably, having Malleus attached to you like a puppy on a leash. He finds that he doesn't mind that much now, since it means he's got your undivided attention. You'll be going for a nice walk at the end of the day, whether the spell is broken then or not, and Malleus finds that he's walked away victorious from the situation.

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heniareth · 3 years ago

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I was really curious about what your opinions on the DAO companions are :) I know we have talked about some, but I'd love to hear more and about the others as well :D I hope it's ok to pose this as an ask :)

Sure! That sounds like a ton of fun. This might be a long one tho. Mind you, this is not the finished version of the answer. I'd like to link stuff and add a cut, but rn that's not possible. I'll update it when I can.

Edit: I have updated it ^^

Let's go alphabetically bc why not.

Alistair:

Sweet guy. So sweet. There was a moment when I was hard pressed chosing between him and Zevran (alas, Zevran won). Also, he's weirdly tall according to the wiki? How did I not notice that before?

Let's get a bit more serious now, Alistair is a great guy. The only reason he's not the hero of the story is because he doesn't want to. He has all the qualities of a leader: he's good at dealing with conflict (as evident with the conversation with the mage at the beginning. He gets where he wants to get without antagonizing the mage, but without allowing him to trample all over him). He's a solid tactitian and knows how to make allies (he suggests to use the Grey Warden treaties, after all). I bet if he was in the leadership position, he'd even not bicker with Morrigan. His moral code is pretty tight; some might say too tight, but I think it's less about the moral code and more about learning to judge people by their actions, not by the labels they fit into (Morrigan is a proud apostate and therefore bad. Wynne is a humble circle mage and therefore good). He also has a bit of a black-and-white way of seeing the world. I empathize a lot with Alistair, especially with his experience with the Chantry and his subsequent reluctance to deal with it. I really wish I had gotten to know more about concrete experiences he had during his training as templar, but he seems reluctant to talk about it (gee, I wonder why).

Since I've only played the game once, I haven't really picked up on Arl Eamon's abuse towards him, which apparently exists (Isolde, however... I mean, even if he were Eamon's illegitimate son, he's a kid, ma'am, he didn't exactly get to chose his parents. So that's so not okay). Alistair's way of speaking about them both, however, is either sign that he has not come within a hundred miles of acknowledging how much it hurt him, or that he's already gone through the whole process and has decided to forgive them. The latter shows a very strong character; yes, he relies on the approval and leadership of others, he has his issues, but he's already started working on them.

That being said, irl Alistair would be like a little brother to me. I'd tease him relentlessly (all in good fun and I promise to stop if it makes him uncomfortable, but he's just so teasable). I still wish the videogame gave him the chance to take important decisions for himself. But that, of course, would somewhat defeat the point of the game.

Leliana:

Another sweet, sweet person. Her singing voice is amazing. Her belief in the Maker inspires me (I'm a religious person and seeing religious characters represented in a positive light is Very Cool. It's also sometimes a source of discomfort, because the Church has done a lot of very messed up stuff and positive representation can sometimes veer into apologetics for things that should not be excused, but that's a whole other can of worms. The bottom line is that religious characters sometimes work for me and other times don't and Leliana works for me very much bc she's an outsider inside the Chantry).

Leliana is best friend material, tbh. I'd love to get to know her irl, discuss theology and philosophy and maybe even politics? She makes mistakes and has prejudices, but, tbh, so do I. And I do get the feeling that she tries her best to learn. From the times she intervenes in a conversation between the Warden and an NPC, she shows herself to be compassionate and open to the needs of others. What I get from her character is that she genuinely wants to help, which is something that I adore of her. I suspect that she sometimes has a hard time deciding wether she's a good person or not. She has killed and seduced and worked for a morally dubious person, and she doesn't show the same nonchalance about it as Zevran (though they both do discuss their line of work in very... professional terms). This is, however, more of a headcanon than actual factual canon.

I also very much enjoy her girly side, like her interest in shoes and dresses. She's one badass woman who also looses her cool about the latest fashions in Val Royeaux. I like that. Between her and Alistair, a non human noble Warden has as good a help to navigate the Fereldan court as they're going to get. Leliana is also, I can't forget that, clever and insightful. It'd be easy to write her off as the innocent chantry girl, but she's so much more than that. Her kindness is paired with foresight, I think. She knows that taking on the trouble to help now can go a long way in the future. I just have a lot of respect for her.

Loghain:

This one's gonna be short bc I didn't recruit him. He's an amazing villain and would probably be a great Warden as well. He reminds me of Denerhor from LOTR; once a hero/stewart of his people, ambition and desperation have driven them both down a terrible path. I have also only little idea about his past. People say he lost a lot, and I believe it wholeheartedly; it doesn't excuse the fact that he plunged the country into a civil war in the middle of a Blight. I don't have a lot of sympathy for short-sighted politicians. I wish he hadn't made himself regent. That's what I take away from his character.

Edit: One thing I forgot to mention that really impressed me was his death. I had Alistair duel him (that was a rough duel), and then it kinda just jumped to a cutscene of my Warden nodding and Alistair executing him. That didn't sit well with me. I didn't want to kill Loghain, and less so in front of Anora. But what impressed me was that Loghain just accepted it. That takes a whole lot of guts. Compare that to Howe's death, and how he screams out that he deserved (more, probably, or anything but death) and it's crystal clear who the more noble of the two is. Loghain strikes me as very lawful neutral, and any neutral alignment has the particularity that it can be dragged towards good or bad, sometimes without the characters noticing it (which is interesting from a DnD perspective; neutral is often concieved of as just as stable as good or evil, but that may not be true. But that's a different post). Anyway, Loghain's death was impactful.

Morrigan:

I could kick myself for not maxing out her approval in the first play-through. I got to enjoy a bit of her friendship by the end of it and boy was even that little bit worth it. Friendship with Morrigan is something that is hard-won. It's all the more precious because of that.

Morrigan is full of paradoxes, I think. She's incredibly wise in some ways, yet also very short-sighted (”just kill them, don't solve their problems”. Morrigan, dear, I'm not going to gain a lot of allies if I kill everybody who poses a problem to me). She is so intelligent, but emotionally... not so. She knows so much about some things, and very little about the next. She's incredibly wilful and knows what she wants, but follows Flemeth's orders all the time through. She hungers for power and independence, yet craves closeness, but won't allow herself to have it. She asks you to prove yourself to her and is extremely critical of your actions, I think, because she's afraid. She bites the hand that feeds her because it might hit her next.

Like with Eamon, I haven't managed to catch the undercurrent of abuse that seems to permeate Flemeth's relationship with Morrigan. Except there are signs, because there must be something Morrigan is scared of and who has instilled all that rage in her, and that's Flemeth. Also, she clearly hates/does not care about her and wants her dead (unless killing Flemeth was part of Flemeth's plan as well? Hm.)

Morrigan is that one person who you are nice to, continuously, because nobody else is. And suddenly she becomes less cold. And then friendly. And suddenly you're asking yourself why everybody hates her, because she's a really good friend! I just wish the other companions came to a similar conclusion, especially Alistair and Wynne.

Oghren:

They did this man dirty. He has such great lines and I'm convinced he was a great person before Branka disappeared. He has that dwarven warrior spirit, and while he looks like Gimli, some of his most impactful lines remind me of Dwalin or even Thorin Oakenshield himself. He could be so noble had he gotten some character development, damnit!

Oghren as he is written is somewhat disgusting. I hate the lechering comments and the drunkenness. And still, I don't hate him because of those amazing lines he has when he's actually sober. It's frustrating and I'll give him that character development myself if the game won't. I strongly associate the song Whiskey Lullaby with him, bc that's how he would have ended up if the Warden hadn't taken him along (warning: the song talks about suicide and alcoholism). Like I said, they could have done such cool things with his character. As he is written now... it's just sad. Moments of lucidity drowned in alcohol and creepy jokes. As you can see, I don't blame the character for either. The alcoholism happens all too often irl. The creepy jokes... I put that one on the writers' tab.

I actually think Oghren could have been a great mentor figure (I know, I shock myself as well sometimes). Next to the Grey Wardens, the ones who know most about fighting darkspawn are the dwarves because they have to deal with them constantly. Especially a warrior caste dwarf like Oghren could have brought a lot of that invaluable knowledge to the team, especially since there are no Grey Wardens in Ferelden but two extremely green recruits. Next, you get the chance to give Oghren the command of the teammates you leave behind in the battle of Denerim with the reason that he has lead men into battle before. Where did that suddenly come from? Oghren should have been right up there telling my Warden that they were doing this wrong, that they needed more food (and booze) and a confident leader to keep the armies they've called together going. Oghren should have been able to tell my civilian city elf who got recruited into the Grey Wardens a six months ago how one leads an army. How one presents oneself to inspire confidence, how one doesn't crack under the pressure, how one gets the leaders of said armies (some who hate each others guts i.e. Dalish elves and humans) to work together. And, last but not least, Oghren could have had a great story about grief. This is a man who has lost most of what made him (and what he hasn't lost he's spilling down the drain with every mug of ale). This is a man who, if you take him into the Deep Roads, has to see what his wife did to his family, how his wife got absolutely obsessed, and can be forced to kill said wife or watch her die. All Wardens loose their home and families at the start of the story. It would really have rounded the whole narrative out if the Warden and Oghren could have recognised their grief in each other and hashed it out somehow. Such as it is, Oghren is a depressed drunkard and there is nothing we can do about that. I find that frustrating.

Rascal (a.k.a. Dog):

Best boy. 100/10. I wish we had gotten to see the reaction of the different origins to the mabari (because elves probably have a whole different experience with them from mages or humans. And dwarves just... I think they straight up have none? XD). Other than that, no complaints. The name Rascal was the one I gave my dog because you have to be a right rascal to survive what he did and play the pranks he plays. Smartest breed in the world indeed.

Shale:

Shale is one of those characters that I recruited rather late in the game, so I haven't had the chance to explore their personality and worldview, really. I didn't even get to take them to the Deep Roads (this will be ammended in playthrough nr. 2). As such, I don't have particularly strong opinions on them (or her? The wiki refers to Shale as 'it', but that sounds weird). But, because I know so little about Shale, I have a lot of questions. First, what were they like before they were a golem? Shayle, as she was called then, was the best warrior of her time if I remember correctly. Why did she become a golem? Was it to be able to eternally protect her people? Was the sarcasm the golem Shale exhibits also part of the dwarven warrior Shayle or did that come later (if for thirty years you have nobody to talk to but yourself, you better be entertaining. And I can imagine how it could make somebody terribly jaded as well).

Next, how attached is Shale to their golem form, exactly? According to the banter, they infinitely prefer it to a squishy fleshy form. If that is the case, however, why go to Tevinter to try and become a squishy dwarf again? It's not like that process could be reversed if they wanted to become a golem again; if Shale survives to the end of the game, the Anvil of the Void is destroyed and Caridin is dead. Was the whole spiel about their indestructible form a façade? It might have been, but not because Shale actually disliked their form. I think it would have more to do with the loss of their memories and with the very invasive experiments and alterations of Shale's body made by the mage Wilhelm. The loss of memories means that Shale is unable to remember life as a fleshy creature. They might be deflecting by pretending that they didn't care for that experience anyway because of the superiority of their golem form. The modifications made to their form by Wilhelm would have alienated them from their body. In light of this, it's significant that Shale asks the Warden to decorate their form with crystals.

All of this is, of course, pure speculation. I may have easily missed or forgotten details that would disprove the above thoughts. All in all, I like Shale and I hope we meet them again in DA4 (given that it's mostly set in Tevinter). It's a liking from a respectful distance, because Shale is tall and made out of rock and also way more experienced than I will ever be (they are literally the oldest member of the Warden's little Blight fighting squad).

Sten:

Sten is another person I'd keep a respectful distance from physically. That seems to be the what he would prefer, at least. I've enjoyed his character a lot, especially because he seems pretty clear-cut at first, but slowly lets the nuance of his person show (gruff and stoic, but then he has an eye for art, a sweet tooth and he likes cute animals). It's also very interesting that there's no moment when you learn "the truth" about him the way you do with Zevran or Leliana. There's no big reveal about his life under the Qun before coming to Ferelden. He says he was sent to monitor the Blight, but honestly? If neither Ferelden nor Orlais knew there was a Blight, how could the Qunari know? I think he's lying, and he takes his secrets back with him when he leaves Ferelden. And yet I think I know him enough to say that a Warden who has become friends with him has nothing to fear from Sten.

One thing I find very interesting about Sten is how he thinks. His conversation about how women can't be soldiers has been analysed a lot on this page I think. He seems to be arguing based on a different paradigma than the one the Warden has. He also seems to have a very clear-cut view of the world. What is fascinating to me is that, when arguing with the Warden and learning about their culture, he is not necessarily becoming more lax about his worldview. I think it's more likely that he is expanding his paradigma, the structure of thought through which he understands the world. I don't think that he is now convinced that women can be warriors as well. I think he rather understands that, in Ferelden, the relationship between occupation and gender is different than under the Qun. Which of the two he thinks is more right or more agreeable, I have no idea. I'm also not very interested in that. But I find it fascinating how he always seems to be looking on quietly, gathering data, classifying it and trying to fit it into his understanding of how the world works. I wouldn't be surprised at all if his original party was a scouting party to see how vulnerable Ferelden was at that moment to outside forces. One thing I don't understand with all of this is why he urges the Warden to meet the Blight head on. No smart soldier would suggest that, except if they are foolishly proud (and Sten doesn't seem like that kind of guy tbh). I get that the Warden takes way longer to gather allies than expected because they first have to solve all of their allies' problems. But surely Sten sees the need to have allies? Is he just that impatient? Does he have a death wish (à la, I lost my sword and am without honour, better to die sooner than later and in glorious battle)? Was he his group's previous commander and is he now having trouble following somebody else's orders? Or maybe it's his way to make sure the Warden knows what they are doing? To push them into becoming the self-assured commander their allies will need once they're all gathered? I really don't know. I like the last option best, however.

For me, Sten is my fellow, more experienced soldier. Like Alistair, he can potentially be the Warden's brother in arms, but he's definitely the older brother here. He probably doesn't take kindly to tearful confessions of how hard everything is, but I feel like he's otherwise a solid rock to lean on. I feel like the Warden can trust him to do what is necessary and count on him no matter what, especially after they get his sword back. His devotion from that point on is honestly so powerful.

Wynne:

Wynne was such a support for my Warden (except with the whole conversation about love vs. duty and that she may have to choose between Zevran and ending the Blight and that she should therefore break up with him. Wynne had a point. Astala was so not willing to sacrifice her relationship with Zevran. But the whole conversation came at a point where she was already so disillusioned that she blew up in Wynne's face (”can i please just have one (1) nice thing????”)). But all in all, Wynne is great.

She has a lot of flaws. She was very marked by her life in the Cricle and, for all her age, she has little experience living outside of it. She is also a conformist despite her strong moral core. In a way, her ability to find peace with her lot in life impresses me deeply because it speaks to a lot of strength of character. Sadly, however, strength can be ill applied and used to suppress. I think she has convinced herself that the Chantry is right under (almost) all circumstances to be able to rationalize the life that mages live. She's had her son taken away from her as a baby and an apprentice killed. Her reaction seems to have been to convince herself that this was right, or for the greater good (and now I'm thinking about the Guardian's question at the temple of Andraste's Ashes; are you wise or do you just repeat what others have told you? The answer is not as clear-cut as it might be). This is why she is so irritated by Zevran and Morrigan. By aligning herself with the Chantry, she is, in her eyes, good. Zevran and Morrigan are not; they do not conform to Chantry morality and they defend themselves tooth and nails against somebody who would try and convert them. This is something Wynne never allowed herself to do; she always did the "right" thing and it has cost her so much. I'm not saying she was right (it would probably have done her some good to rebel from time to time, and to trust her own gut instinct more), but in light of this, it hardly surprises me that she's so judgamental. She has to be, or she would be forced to confront all the evil she has not fought against all those years and all the hurt that has been caused to her by the very institution she protects (and thank God she only tries to argue and can appreciate it when people have found a good life outside of her comfort zone. If she tried to convince by force or, for example, drag her former apprentice back to the Circle... boy oh boy that would get ugly). If you think about it, Wynne really is a good example for what happens if you live by a philosophy of always choosing the lesser evil.

Something that I keep forgetting over her grandmotherly and dignified character is how damn powerful she is. She has escaped the carnage at Ostagar; HOW!? She protected those mage apprentices in the Circle tower for God knows how long. In the battle of Denerim, she wades through an army and comes out alive on the other side. The wiki lists her age at 40, I think, but that doesn't make a lick of sense unless 75 years of age are the Fereldan equivalent to 100. This lady, about whom people make grandmother jokes, did all that. It's impressive.

Zevran:

You know, I would really love to know what Wynne thinks about the events at Kirkwall in DA2. It might be a disaster for her, or it might pave the way for one last bit of character development. She certainly didn't want to return to the Circle after fighting the Blight. That may be an indicator of some change in her stance on the Circle of Magi.

Edit: I forgot that she is what the Circle considers a literal abomination! Holy cow, how could I forget that?? Anyway, her conversation about what being an abomination means is so... heartbreaking, actually. It's so tentative. So careful. "Am I an abomination? Am I the same thing that has killed my students? The same thing as Uldred? Am I lost and damned? Did I invite this spirit in? Is this my fault?" Like wow, Wynne is going through something huge right there. I love it. I have to continue playing the game to see what it ends up as, but it's fascinating and such a huge thing that she allows the Warden in on that.

Ah, Zevran, my beloved (he has stolen my heart so much it's not even funny anymore). He's funny, he's charming, he's so so loyal and it breaks my heart. Zevran is the one about whom I've read most meta: these three wonderful posts for instance, as well as this one about his possible lack of scars, and this one about his lack of freedom. All of these have influenced my opinion of him and they are great reads.

I have talked about Zevran with you before, so I'll just skip to the new stuff. I have come to conclusion that Zevran is an artist at heart. This is totally not biased by the fact that I also do art, but hear me out. One of his preferred gifts are bars of silver and gold. While those have the obvious utility of basically functioning as money (they can be sold to any silversmith or goldsmith and their value is pretty stable through time and in different countries), there's also this from his codex: "Zevran shows an affinity for the finer things in life—hardly surprising for an Antivan Crow—but his appreciation can be more poetic than he lets on. A simple bar of refined silver or gold, uncomplicated by a craftsman's hammer, is elegantly valuable." Tell me that is not an artist's eye that sees that gold and sees the beauty in it. Then, there's also the meta about Zevran the Seducer which I linked above and link here again. It talks specifically about how he lets himself enjoy the target and be seen in his enjoyment. Tell me that is not an artist's eye that beholds the beauty of something he is set out to destroy. Even his talk about his assassinations show this. He talks about it as an art, the way somebody would talk about the brutal intervention in stone that produces a sculpture. Yes, it's a rationalization of the act of killing and yes killing is still wrong. But he doesn't go on about it on a moral tangent the way Alistair or Wynne would (”this person was bad, killing them was necessary”) or even through the argument of survival like Morrigan would (”it was either them or me and it sure as Hell wasn't going to be me”). He talks about the pleasure of a job well done, of the satisfaction of striking the precise point and executing a plan to the perfection so as to minimize chances of discovery and to make a clean death possible. And pleasure in seeing and in doing, this I firmly believe, is absolutely fundamental for an artist.

My favourite part about my Warden and Zevran as a pairing is that Zevran precisely brings out that ability to take your pleasures as they come and to really savour them. Fighting the Blight is tough; it's so important to find good things amidst the chaos to stay sane. If Astala saves Zevran from himself by offering him a place to stay and a purpose, Zevran saves Astala from herself by keeping her from running herself into the ground trying to save the world.

There are some things I don't like about Zev. The incessant flirting, for example, sometimes makes me uncomfortable (it becomes enjoyable for me once the Warden and him are in a relationship, but before that? Nah, no thanks). I wish he would also leave the other female characters alone (and there's so many more shameless comments of his aimed at Morrigan, Leliana or Wynne than at Alistair or maybe even Sten).

---

And that's my take on the Origins companions (this was rather long. Whew ^^' I hope it was still readable and that you enjoyed it!!) Thank you so much for the ask!! It's been a joy thinking about this. I was worrying at first that the less prominent companions like Sten or Shale wouldn't get as much content but... well XD

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omg-imagine · 4 years ago

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Loopy

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is a little loopy from her anesthesia, and Johnny finds it amusing.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Requested by @thescorpionrodriguez. Hope you enjoy!

“Come on, V, wake the fuck up already.”

Silence. Johnny swears he could hear a pin drop.

V’s body remains lax on the bed; her eyes wound shut as if she were sound asleep. Slow and rhythmic, the rise and fall of her chest were calming, lulling. For once, she looks to be in peace, a rare moment for those who live and breathe in Night City.

She had been lucky. Extremely lucky. Two or three millimeters more to the right and the bullet that pierced her abdomen would have hit an organ. By some miracle, it missed anything vital and had exited out cleanly. It did fucking hurt judging by the sound of her agonizing groans, but here she was—still kicking, still alive.

And Johnny’s relieved that she was. They may not get along at times, but he genuinely cares for V. Hell, he would even consider her a good friend. She could call him a snarky asshole as often as she wants (and she does), yet he knows that deep down, she too has grown a soft spot for the rocker boy.

It’s been hours since the mission that went awry, and Johnny was getting pretty antsy. Vik had to put V down while he worked on repairing her cyberware. Nothing major, though the anesthesia should have certainly worn out by now. Much to Silverhand’s surprise, the ripperdoc wasn’t acting all too worried about it. He thinks V could use the sleep since he’s aware of how little she’s been getting.

Unfortunately, Johnny was all but a patient man. Bored out of his damn mind, he’s tired of roaming around the operating room, waiting and waiting for V to regain consciousness. Johnny’s more than ready to leave, perhaps grab a smoke afterward. He hasn’t gone this long without one lately, and he can’t enjoy one if V’s lying here, knocked out cold.

Nearly the rest of the day flies by, and the sun begins to set. That’s when he feels it; a spark—a familiar jolt of electricity emitting in the depths of V’s mind. Johnny manifests by her bedside, watching as her body finally stirs awake. That’s my girl, he silently praises, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. V’s eyes flutter open, taking a minute to survey her surroundings before her line of sight lands on him.

“Well, look who decided to come back to life,” Johnny quips, leaning closer. “You doing alright, kid?”

V doesn’t respond. Rather, she bursts into a fit of giggles out of nowhere.

What the fuck?

Bewildered, Johnny glances everywhere but notices nothing amusing of the sort. “Care to share what you find so funny?”

“You’re too good looking to be my nurse,” V drawls, no doubt experiencing side effects from the anesthesia.

“I’m no nurse, princess, but thanks,” he corrects her. Then, it dawns on him. “You recognize me?”

She blinks at him blearily, the gears in her head turning as she tries to put a name to the face. “I dunno, should I?”

“It’s Johnny. Johnny Silverhand. Ring any bells?”

Again, V chuckles, a light-hearted tone that Johnny rarely hears, but they were sweet music to his ears when he does.

“Nope, zero bells. Are you like my husband or something?”

Johnny’s eyes widen. “Husband? Oh, no, honey. We ain’t even gone on a date yet. I’d say, think of us as partners-in-crime.”

“Wait!” V blurts out, gasping. “I remember you. You’re from that band—Samurai, right? God, I used to listen to your songs a lot as a kid.”

“Huh, you told me you’d never heard of Samurai,” Johnny recalls, slightly entertained at this point. “Didn’t peg you as a fangirl, V. I’m flattered.”

“So, can I… y’know, get your autograph?”

Just before Johnny could continue playing around with a loopy V, Viktor strolls in with Misty in tow, both delighted to find the merc out of her prolonged slumber. He lingers by the foot of her bed as Vik explains to V what happened, but she doesn’t seem to be processing it. She stares at him, dazed, and Johnny wonders when she’ll be back to normal.

“The effects should go away in a few hours,” Vik informs Misty once he’s examined V. She’s healing nicely and isn’t complaining much, yet that could be because of all the painkillers she was jacked with. “I’d say watch over V until she can stand on her own two feet without tripping. Other than that, she’s good to go.”

“Where are we going?” a clueless V asks, looking back and forth between the two. “Is Johnny coming?”

Misty furrows her brow at her. “Johnny?”

“Yeah, mister sex on legs over there,” she points eagerly, and Johnny smirks at that. “I’m not done talking to him yet.”

Vik shakes his head before reminding Misty of the engram residing within V’s psyche. “Oh, yeah. Silverhand. Uh, I guess he could come, too. Don’t really have much of a choice there, doll.”

The walk back to V’s apartment was a journey in itself. Lucky for her, she was pushed in a wheelchair throughout it all as Johnny stays visible for her benefit. They reached the door just before the skies turned completely dark, the warmth and comfort of the room being somewhat familiar to V.

Misty carefully moves her onto the bed, propping her up with pillows behind her back before smoothing out the blankets covering her legs. Johnny observes from a distance, quiet in his pondering. He’s never seen V this vulnerable before. She’s always been incredibly independent, not to mention stubborn as hell. She won’t accept anyone’s help unless it’s dire, and even then, she’s reluctant to do so.

“You must be starving,” Misty comments once V is settled. “How about I get you somethin’ to eat downstairs. Better food than what’s here, if there’s any. Hang tight for a bit, ’kay?”

Nodding, Misty then heads out of the room, the front door sliding shut when she’s gone, leaving V in the presence of Johnny yet once again. He glitches to sit by the edge of the mattress as V stares at him incredulously. Her eyes shone what he could best describe as innocence; she truly has no clue of what they’ve gone through together in the previous months.

“Can you sing me a song?”

Johnny narrows his gaze, a small chuckle rumbling in his throat at her deliriousness. “I don’t do concerts anymore.”

“Oh, come on!” V pouts, almost child-like in her ways. “Pleeease?”

“No,” he refuses sternly before an idea comes to mind. “How about you sing to me? Said you were a fan. Give me a performance, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

V does not hesitate. On cue, she starts to serenade Johnny with one of Samurai’s greatest hits, going as far as imitating the gruffness of his voice. Off-beat and lyrics garbled, V belts out the tune confidently and loud enough that her irritated neighbors began banging on the wall, yelling at her to quit it.

She ignores them, of course.

Meanwhile, Johnny’s having the time of his life. It was quite endearing to him, although embarrassing for V if she later finds out about this. Yet, he doesn’t stop her. He encourages her even further by singing along, not giving a fuck in the world.

At the end of the song, Johnny laughs heartily along with V, who had crawled closer to him. Their eyes meet for a moment that seems to last longer than it actually did. His mouth quirks up in a smile, the kind of smile that was reserved for her and her alone.

“You’re pretty cool, Silverhand,” V mumbles sleepily, touching the cold surface of his chrome arm. Sighing, Johnny guides her drowsy self back under the covers, certain that she would crash in the next minute or two. “I think you should take me on a date. We’d be a hell of a couple together.”

“I think you’re going to regret everything that’s happened just now when you wake up in the morning,” he returns, and there was a slight pang in his chest.

V only hums in response, and he doubts he had even heard what he last said. It doesn’t matter, however. Johnny was sure she wouldn’t want to bring this up again.

---

“Fuck…” V exhales groggily, her blinking eyes wincing at the bright sunlight flooding into the room. She feels pain all over, her head throbbing immensely as she tries to gather memories of the day prior. It comes back in bits and pieces until suddenly, she remembers everything.

Everything.

“Good morning, princess,” Johnny greets after materializing before her, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “How ya feelin’? Still loopy or need a little more refreshing from ‘mister sex on legs?’”

V’s reflexes are quick; Johnny doesn’t even register the pillow being hurled at him at first. He only realizes it when the empty glass bottles on the center table falls to the floor, shattering and making a mess.

“You’re lucky you’re just a hologram, right now,” V muttered as she stands up unsteadily.

Johnny holds his hands up. “You were the one who said it.”

Rolling her eyes, V reaches for the painkillers Misty left on the side. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, but at least let me tell you that you’ve got a shitty voice.”

“That’s why I don’t do karaoke,” V snorts before swallowing the pills and heading to the couch. “So, what do you think?”

“What do you mean?” Johnny questions.

“You, me, dinner?”

V waits for his reaction, smiling coyly at his confusion. When Johnny finally understands what she was referring to, he almost couldn’t believe it.

“Wait, are you fucking serious?”

She lets out a chortle. “Yeah, I’m serious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m mortified about last night, and I’m never going to let Vik knock me out with that stuff again. But hey, the truth came out. Might not have remembered you, but even while high as fuck, I knew I liked you.”

Briefly, they traded a look of longing, acknowledging at last this deeper connection they’ve felt for a while. It was much more than sharing a body, a mind. Something more profound than what Johnny and V have experienced before in their lives.

And though it was all entirely new to them, they both wanted it. They both wanted each other.

“Better get to it then,” Johnny flashes a grin, mirroring V’s own. “Wanna start with breakfast? Bet you’re hungry after skipping what Misty brought you, samurai.”

“Never going to live that one down, are ya?”

Shooting her a cheeky wink, Johnny throws on his stylish pair of aviators with ease.

“You bet your ass I’m not.”

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse @overheardatthecontinental @life-is-fuucked @ataraxydreams

#johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand fanfic

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sooniesspot · 3 years ago

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Coming Down | myg

Okay, so here's the second installment of my BADLANDS Series. This is loosely based around Coming Down by Halsey. I realise I haven't really done them in a specific order, just the one I am pulled to next to write.

Warnings: Dom!Yoongi, Sub!Reader, mentions of slight work stress and societal pressures of being a woman, you know. All that good stuff.

Reader is a F E M I N I S T and proudly so. Loose mention of not wanting kids (which is fine btw) this is just a whole load of smut, not much fluff as it's FWB but.

Okay so, oral, f & m receiving, face fucking, fingering, multiple orgasms, rough sex, light spanking, choking (for like a milisecond) use of ties, slight sensory deprivation, slight body worship, overstimulation. Slight name-calling?? Yoongs says kitten ironically. Use of safe word/safe signal. Yoongles has a Sir Kink. (I can only apologise) Reader has a hand kink (obvs) just wants to get off and relieve stress, Yoongi is happy to be their relief.

word count: 9.8k 👀🐸☕ don't @ me

'I found God, I found him in a lover'

It was a normal Thursday evening, you'd finished work at 6pm on the dot and took the bus home. Fishing for your keys as you approached the front door of your apartment. Key in the lock, turn. Open. Silence. Walking into your hallway, slippers not quite on the rack by the front door as you rushed out of them into your heels this morning. Just where you left them. Sliding off your heels with a sigh as you trudged into your slippers, immediately comforted by the soft memory foam that supported your tiresome toes. Returning your heels to the rack. Shrugging off your bag and long coat, reaching nearly 2 feet above you on your tiptoes to hang your bag and coat on the coat rack. Muttering to yourself like you did every day. 'Coat and bag, then heels. Won't have to stretch so much.' Venturing into the living room. Magazine on the coffee table infront of the sofa where you had left it last night.

Empty. Not that you expected anyone to be home. No one making you dinner you didn't want, or taking up the whole sofa, or hogging the remote. You lived alone, and you liked it. Sure, for a pretty young girl in her mid twenties you often had looks and questions.

'When are you going to find the one?'

'When will you settle down and have a family?'

And truth be told, you didn't want to settle down. You had told your mother from a young age that you didn't want children, whether that would change over time or not you weren't sure. It hadn't changed. You still wanted your independence and that was okay. Women were not put on this earth just to bear children and you were the firmest believer in that. You liked your life just the way it was. A job you loved that you worked hard for, an apartment you were proud of and nearly every night you got to sleep in your own bed, alone, no one to whine at when they snored or your body being used as a warmer for their cold feet. The few nights you were away from your bed came from your once in a while rendezvous with an acquaintance of yours. Although you knew eachother more than mere acquaintances should.

You met at a bar some time ago. Lights flashed, sure to give you a migraine and music so loud your eardrums could burst at any given moment. You were dragged out to this stingy bar by your bestfriend in her attempt to finally get noticed by that one guy. Even in her twenties she was still as smitten as when you were both back at school. You wore a simple black dress with a low cut front, skirt just above the knee and plain black heels. Hair not much different to your everyday, maybe a few waves here and there and some more mascara than your normal work volume. Trying your best to blend in but still having the ornate ability to have eyes on you in any setting.

You spent a lot of time on the dance floor until your friend had found her prey and you circled around the bar. Much rather wanting to stay at home with a tub of ice cream and your cat watching some terrible reality show about Cabin Crew on a cruise ship. Shouting at the TV to throw the nasty woman overboard; waving your spoon at the screen as your cat looked on in understanding almost. But here you were, slumped against a sticky varnished oak bar, propped up on an old velvet stool, twisting your straw in your glass, nonchalantly spinning the steadily melting ice as you listened to your friend talking to her guy. Suddenly feeling a hot hand against your lower back and someone lean over the bar between you and your otherwise occupied friend. Looking up at a pale man to your left.

" Whiskey on the rocks. " came his order to the bar tender; sharp, leaving no room for anything blasé.

Catching his eye, he looked you over once with a subtle bite of his lip and the flick of his tongue at the seam of his mouth; eyebrow raised with a lingering smirk before he vanished into the sea of people again with his drink.

Dumbfounded, you sat there, staring at the now empty spot where he had been mere seconds ago, the now cool expanse of your lower back where his large hand once was, fizzing. Swinging round on your stool, propping your elbow on the bar behind you, your eyes scanned the room. It wasn't the biggest bar. It wouldn't take long to find him.

Soon you caught eyes with him across the dance floor, stood with his taller, tanned friends as he held the whiskey glass firm in his hand; talking amongst themselves. Dark Brown, almost black hair feathered across his forehead, just above his twinkling chocolate eyes. Thin upper lip pressing to his plumper bottom lip before perfect white teeth graced your vision in an endearing gummy smile. Eyes still not catching you between the bodies of people dancing. Several silver hoop earrings in each ear. He wore a long black sweatshirt, black ripped jeans and boots. A couple of silver rings adorned his strong fingers.

You took a sip of your drink, gaze intermittently fluttering in his direction as you scanned the room, your friend had left to go and dance. Eyes found her and you nodded, knowing she was fine. As your stare focused back on the man before you he finally looked up, catching your eye with his, dark and mysterious. His lips pulling into a smirk again as he gazed at you. Heat bubbling in your chest from his wandering eyes on your body through the gap in people on the dance floor. He eventually made his way over to you and whispered a few words into your ear. Cool and calm.

" Come back to my hotel. "

And so you did. One slightly drunk, intense one night stand later and here you were, 6 months down the line sleeping with eachother whenever he was in town. A classic Friends With Benefits situation, although you weren't really friends.

You walked into your kitchen, greeting your ginger tabby cat with a kiss as she meowed at you in greeting. Grabbing yourself a glass for water and pouring kibble into her bowl on the floor, your routine monotonous but you didn't mind. Your cat tucking into her dinner as you filled up your glass, taking a sip. Looking at delivery menus on your fridge under old magnets from previous travels, deciding on Chinese; plucking the menu from the fridge, you had a training day for other colleagues at work tomorrow which meant a day off for you. No needing to cook dinner and get an early night tonight. Placing your glass and the menu on the coffee table in the living room, you switched on the tv, chucking any random show on then bumbling along to your room, opening the door. Greeted by quiet and serenity. No dirty pants on the floor or unmade bed. You smiled with contentment, unzipping your dress to pool at your feet before tossing it into your wash basket. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your most dependable black bra and panty set glaring back at you as you fixed your hair into a ponytail and wiped off your makeup. Throwing on a sweatshirt and some leggings. A short while later you plopped yourself down on the sofa and switched on the tv, greeting your cat with a scratch under her chin as she sauntered into the room, hopping up on the sofa with you.

Zoning out to the world around you as a terrible drama played on in the background as you glanced over the menu, not really paying attention to anything in particular. You had been a little stressed over the past couple of weeks, mounting pressures of a new senior in your department threatening to change everything you had sculpted into a balanced working environment over the last 3 years. Societal pressures and backhanded compliments from your mother's 'garden party' friends concerning whether or not you were defective in choosing a man. Or having one choose you. But in reality, the truth is, you had a stable relationship previously, unfortunately he was a dick and you're not stupid. So the single life had been your rather quiet reality for the last 18 months. No one to answer to or to worry about. Just you and your cat.

Your mothers friends never seemed to understand that, always too engrossed in whether or not you had a man on top of you every night to see that their husbands had found other, much younger women to be on top of. All of this filtering through the crack in your hardened shell, filling your mind with alternate realities until you got a text coming through. Cutting through all the fuzz that piqued in your brain. Picking up your phone, you saw who it was. Him.

'I'm in town, come over?'

Your reply was short and sweet.

'Sure, be over in 20.'

Snapping out of your previous thoughts and placing the menu back on the coffee table you sat and pondered for a minute. This was fine. This was what you needed. To let off some steam, in a judgement free setting. No cold glances your way, or harsh words uttered, unless it was you being tied to the headboard again like you had been convinced to try last time with his unadulterated gaze looking down at you writhing underneath him. The thought alone had your hair standing on end and a shiver running through you as you stood from the sofa, heading to your room.

Sifting through your wardrobe to pull on some old trainers, checking yourself in the mirror not really knowing why. In your hallway you made sure the lights in the apartment were off and your cat was happy, tucked up in the corner of the sofa snoozing away. Making sure you had your keys and phone in your bag, you left, key in the lock, turn. Locked. Walking down the hallway and down to the ground floor, heading out of the building to head right. The hotel he always stayed at was only a block or so away so the walk was relatively short. The sun was setting now as it hid behind the skyscrapers that canopied the city. Passers by making their way home or even to work. Still lots of cars on the road and bicycles that weaved in and out of traffic. The breeze was light and cherry blossoms danced in the air, separating from a tree as you passed a nearby park. The air was cool, as it would be in early May. Not too hot. Reminded of your journey, that first night.

'When his hair falls in his face and his hands so cold they shake'

You had left swiftly after his original proposition, making up some story about your cat or an early work meeting or something. Anything to get you out of there and with him. His hand returned to the small of your back as you left the bar, being ushered into an awaiting taxi outside. Shuffling all the way over to the other side, he slid in next to you blurting out the address to the hotel at the driver. Hair falling in his face. Eyes wild as they sparkled from the reflection of the dim streetlights. Smirking at you as the same powerful hand you had grown accustomed to on your back, made a home on your knee, slightly tucked under the skirt of your dress. It was now cold to the touch. Strong and intimidating as the taxi started to drive away. Not being able to take his eyes off you he leant forward and whispered in your ear.

" You look so delicious. " His voice low that reverberated through you, straight to your core as he squeezed your knee. Uttering the last syllable with a kitten lock to the shell of your ear.

To this you bit your lip and shifted uncomfortably in your seat. His hand, in turn sliding further up under your dress to the wider expanse of your thigh. The material of your dress pressing his hand taught against your skin.

He swooped down to your ear again, pressing an open mouthed kiss under your ear before he whispered " can't wait to taste you. "

You keened away from his grasp to no avail. He knew what he was doing to you, breath shallow and flighty in your chest as his teeth tugged at your earlobe.

"Please " You breathed, the first word you uttered to him.

Not really sure what you were pleading him for but the fire in your chest and the dampness of your panties flourished an urgency within you that was incorrigible. He smirked again at this, eyes dancing like Fireflies in the night. The hand that was to his side while the other hid between your thighs came up to cup your cheek, turning your face towards him.

"Soon. " He chuckled before biting your lip.

Drawn back to reality, passing people and cars. Your trainers pulling you towards your destination as your head had an argument with your feet. Was this a good idea? You didn't want to get yourself into a situation where either of you caught feelings. You were a pro at being a cold hearted bitch now but the odd sincere glance your way, especially from him seemed to melt your resolve, even just a little. Recounting the previous times you had taken this walk and what it would lead to.

After your first night with him, it was like a drug. You always wanted more. To say he was good in the bedroom was a complete cop out. He was...He was something. Made you feel things you'd never felt before and noises you'd never in your wildest dreams imagine yourself making. At decibels only a dog could hear. So once the addiction started, you started seeing one another everytime he was in town. Sometimes a couple of times in a week. That went on for a solid 4 months and as work pressures mounted, you fell distant. Always busy catching up with work or having some alone time with your thoughts and your cat. He also got busy, having to travel more for work. You didn't really know much about except it was important and you felt based on the guitar he always packed with him, propped up against the wall in the corner of the room, it was something to do with music.

'I found a devil, I found him in a lover'

The last time you had seen eachother had been a little over 2 weeks ago. That night you'd stayed, which didn't come easily. You were adamant you would leave as soon as you'd cleaned up, even telling him so as he helped you wash in the bathroom, almost requesting a second round when he looked at you through the mirror with those sparkling brown eyes like the devil, but you had been so wound up and pushed to your limits that you felt sleep take you as soon as your body hit the mattress again. Memories of restraints, dark water colours that created the murky palette of his hotel room and the low thumping of your heart, even as you entered the apartment, seeing him there, a tie in hand and a coy smirk. That night he had called you. He never called.

" You busy? " He sounded gruff like he'd just finished working out - which you knew not to be the case.

"When am I ever busy? " You rebuttled with a laugh.

He joined you, then you could hear him grin down the phone. A different sort of grin. A devious one.

"I wanted to try something. "

There was quiet, you wished him to continue silently.

"Something I can't stop thinking about doing to you. " He whispered lowly.

Your ears on fire and furiously red in the face you hung up. Chucking a quick 'omw' text to him in return. That night had been the best sex you'd ever had. That's why you'd stayed. For fear of walking into oncoming traffic at 2am because of your disorientated state.

Your heart skipped a beat at the anticipation of what was to come once you knocked on the door and it sent a thrill through you. Rounding the corner you were met with a bleak grey concrete block of apartments that made up the hotel with a black sign. Crossing the street after looking both ways you jogged up the steps as you saw the door beginning to close after a couple just exited. Sliding in you headed straight for the elevator.

He always had the same hotel room which avoided any confusion. You ran to the elevator that had just opened and pressed the 7th floor. Alone again your mind wandered to your first night here, in this lift.

You'd both stumbled out of the taxi and shuffled over to the lift, he pressed the elevator button furiously as he got impatient; leaning against eachother. As soon as the lift doors were closed he pressed you against the wall, face millimetres from yours as his nose skimmed over yours. Both of your breathing, laboured and slow. His large hands roamed your body; your waist, up and down your thighs. Gripping at the flesh as if he owned it. You wanted him to. God you wanted him to own all of you in that moment. Gaze intense and unwavering as the mysterious glint in his eye grew. His hands slid around the curve of your ass which made you stutter, giving it a harsh squeeze that made you lose your breath.

"I'm gonna ruin you." He whispered devilishly in your ear as he bit the shell.

Pulled out of your reverie as the elevator doors dinged open, signalling you had reached your floor, face burning as you stepped out of the lift, cold fingers pressed to your cheeks to try and cool them. Preparing yourself for what man would greet you at the door. You never knew which one you would get. Sometimes he was ravenous and you never made it to the bed, lipstick smeared and tights ripped as he never had time to waste when he felt such a desperate need for you. Or you would get the cool calm and collected man that caught your eye that night all those months ago. That was, until he got you here. Alone with him.

Walking down the corridor to his room now, counting the doors as they seemed to go on for miles, dark in wood with numbers etched in gold with golden handles. Your breath starting to slip away from you as you imagined as soon as you opened that door you wouldn't be able to breathe steadily again for a while. Room 93. (Shoutout to Halsey's first EP) There it was. You slowed to a stop, almost nervous to knock. 'Just knock' You muttered to yourself. Rolling your eyes as you fidgeted on the spot, sighing as you raised your hand to knock on the door. Knock. Wait. Silence.

You were waiting for a little while which was unlike any other time. Checking your watch and the door number. You waited a little longer and you were just about to walk away when the door opened slowly. You turned; met with the same dancing brown eyes you caught in yours all those months ago, although slightly sunken, maybe he hadn't been sleeping well? His lean frame propped up against the door. Arms folded over his broader chest. Hair fluffed over his forehead, slightly damp. Pale skin flawless and glowing against the dark background of his hotel room and the darkness of his simple black tee and sweatpants. Silver hoops still adorned his ears and rings still glistened on his beautiful hands. Eyes unwavering as they honed in on you. Smirk playing on his thin lips.

"You're early." He mumbled all knowingly, looking at the rings that adorned his knuckles, as if he were about to connect them with a wall.

You stuttered, heart in your mouth as you gawked at the man. Feeling like a naughty school girl that was about to get a ruler spanked across her a-. You stopped the thought for fear of collapsing in the hallway. His eyes still on you, looking you up and down. You mentally slapped yourself for your attire. Sweatshirt and leggings. Not sexy in the slightest. Anyway. Why did you care? Not like you wanted to impress him, right? After another beat his strong arm pulled you in the room by the collar of your sweatshirt, closing the door swiftly behind you and pinning you up against it.

"Just means I have more time." He whispered against your lips.

Sweeping strands of hair out of your face delicately, tucking his fingers behind your ears. He smiled at you, his gummy smile. You never thought that smile would be directed at you. Let alone in this setting.

'With his lips like tangerines, and his colour-coded speak'

His lips moulded to yours with a sudden urgency. Teeth and tongue caressing your lips with power and want. Heavy breaths exchanged as you dropped your bag; hands trying to find purchase somewhere sturdy and stable. Deciding upon the strength of his arms. Eyes closing as you were swept away in the moment of teeth and tongue and pent up tension and wanton need for eachother. His fingers pulling out your hairband so your hair pooled around your face. His fingers lacing through the soft locks as he grinned against your lips. Always having an ornate infatuation with how silky your hair was. How good it felt wrapped around his fist as he fucked you into the mattress. How it spread out behind you like waves across the crisp white bedsheets, framing your face perfectly as you slept.

He missed this. Maybe he missed you. Jolted back from his sweet thoughts, hearing you start to mumble against his lips as he continued to pin you up against the door, your head firmly in his hands.

"Yoongi." You murmured again, slurring the word slightly; drunk off the potent lust he cradled you with.

He never let up from your lips, intent on breathing you in. Hands untangling themselves from your hair as his cool calm hands landed on your shoulders, moving you away from the door to pin you to a wall, nearer to the bed. An eventual destination set in his mind. He couldn't get enough of you. Your hands travelled to cup his cheeks. His lips dry against yours gaining moisture from the saliva rolling around in your mouths as your tongues fought. Small whimpers beginning to swim their way into the air. Music to his ears. Of all the music he'd ever had a hand in creating, he wished he could emulate your tiny whimpers. Your cries for more of him. All of him. Wanting to devour him whole.

"Fuck" He exclaimed, finally pulling away from you, heavy breathing as his forehead was against yours.

Not even giving you time to breath he reached for the hem of your sweatshirt, pulling it over your head to reveal your gorgeous body to his hungry eyes. Knowing now that hiding from his gaze would be futile. An attempt at covering up would leave your ass raw and marks all over every single inch of your body. God's above. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, to him you practically were. He never sought out for any other attention or company from other women. The taste of you as often as he could have you was more than enough to satiate his heart.

He made quick work of your bra before throwing his own shirt off onto the growing pile on the floor. His hands, rough against your soft, plush breasts as his thumbs circled around your pebbling nipples. His teeth latching onto your bottom lip, humming as he looked into your steadily closing eyes. Teeth venturing south along your jaw to your neck and collarbone as he began to grab at the skin of your waist after he finished moulding your breasts; as if trying to memorise the feeling of them in his hands. The weighted comfort he had grown to adore about your chest. Teeth sinking in, enticing low gasps and the tiniest of squeaks as he would bite too hard on already sensitive flesh, intent on getting every inch of your skin covered in small indentations from his teeth. Tongue lascivious against the contours of your neck and collarbones, sickly sweet taste of your skin that drove him wild.

'Now we're lost somewhere in outer space, in a hotel room where demons play'

All you could do was pant and mule against him, your hands in his steadily drying locks. Suddenly pulling away as he untied the drawstring of his pants.

"Knees, now." He whispered authoritively and you happily obeyed.

Flicking your hair off your shoulder you sank down onto your knees. Eyes ignited with a fire he practically stoked out of you. You admired his body on the journey down. Body lithe and pale, defined arms and chest with a flat stomach, no six pack or defined v lines that led to the promising tent that you saw in your line of sight. Just a small happy trail of hair from below his belly button sneaking into the hem of his sweatpants. Swiftly taking them down and off you were greeted with black boxers, looking tight around his cock cased within. You licked your lips in anticipation as his fingers forked through the hair on your scalp. Looking up to his face as he gazed down at you with a stern look in his own eyes; burning into your already flushed skin.

"Someone looks like they've missed this." He smirked as your hand rose to palm him through his boxers.

He released a low hum at the feeling of your hand cupping his balls. You knew that he was very sensitive there, from past experiences.

"Does the slut want my cock?" He asked, a feather of a chuckle rumbled in his chest at your immediate nod as you ran your tongue over the seem of your lips.

Your fingers delved underneath the fabric as you began to pull them down. Sudden slap to your hands had you shying away from him.

"Hungry sluts have to wait don't they, kitten?" His eyes zeroing in on your reaction to the pet name.

You gritted your teeth in vague annoyance at the name, after the first night, you told him you had to be home for your cat. Finding it oddly adorable you were a cat lady he called you kitten ironically, now it's stuck. Your eyes looking away from him, turning your head slightly towards the large window that showed the rest of the city. Twinkling lights now shining in the moonlight. His hand gripped your chin, pulling your attention back to him, forcing you to look up into his devious eyes.

"I don't think you answered me, slut." He snarled; releasing your chin from his grasp.

Your heart jumped in your chest. "Y-yes, sir."

He smirked again, feeling triumphant he patted your head, thumb smoothing over your hair line with ghost like touches before running it along the seem of your mouth, popping his thumb in, flat against your tongue. Closing your lips around him, beginning to suck, big eyes gazing up at him.

"Good girl." He whispered before removing his thumb from your mouth and yanking his boxers down and stepping out of them.

His fingers danced through his damp hair as his cock sprung up against his stomach, a muted groan as the cool air touched his reddened and straining cock. Your eyes widened, never getting used to the sight of his cock, inches away from your salivating mouth, making your panties pool with a carnal need for him to be inside you. Your hands began to rub up and down your jeans clad thighs, waiting with baited breath for him to give you the command. This man and the things you'd do for him would have others question if you were a feminist or not. How a strong single woman with a steady career and bustling social life could want to be so utterly defiled by a man and be at his every whim really flipped your ideology on its head. But a drug was a drug, and you were high on him like cocaine.

"Alright, stop giving me those bedroom eyes." He gushed, dominating voice faltering as he gazed down at you, waiting and ready for him to let you begin.

You fluttered your eyelashes at him, big and bold. Biting your lip as your hands rubbed along your thighs again.

"Fuck, just get over here." He laughed, holding the base of his cock in his hand as your hands slunk up his sturdy pale thighs.

Fingertips sending sparks through his body. Your lips reaching his tip, you looked up at him again as you kitten licked his bulbous tip, testing it. Like testing a car. He hissed to which you smirked. You took your tongue to lick the underside of his cock lightly, teasing his frenulum before swirling your tongue round his tip several times. He puffed out a harsh breath but never said a word, fingers beginning to weave into your hair with a softness you were unfamiliar with. Surrounding the tip with your lips as you slowly sunk the head into your waiting mouth. Giving kitten links to the underside again as you sucked on his tip for a moment. Yoongis breath was heavy, you could tell by his chest moving, half lidded eyes looking down at you as you took more of him in slowly. Tongue still licking everywhere you could. Your other hand still positioned on his thigh as you rubbed small circles in it with your thumb.

Starting to take him deeper in your mouth and pulling him back out for breath had him seeing double. His vision was blurred as he could feel your heavenly lips wrap around his strained cock, precum and spit starting to pool at the corners of your mouth; threatening to spill as you bobbed your head back and forth on his dick. Setting up a rhythm you plunged him in deep so your nose touched his abdomen and he threw his head back with a grunt; gritting his teeth.

"Uh, fuck. Your mouth is so good" He whispered into the air.

'I've got a lover and I'm unforgiven, I'm such a fool to pay this price'

Your mouth worked on him as well as it could. You would take a lot of him in and proceed to gag which made him grunt. As your hand began to work at the base of his shaft. Giving him your all. Making up for lost time.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last." He hissed. His hands in spearing through your hair as his thumbs rubbed at your scalp.

"I should've kept my hands to myself... Always impatient." He chuckled menacingly to himself; shaking his head.

Your breath was heaving as you pulled back from him. Hands gripping his thighs tight as you looked up at the man towering above you.

"What do you say, will you let me fuck your mouth like a good pet?" He asked, hands still in your hair.

"Make me cum, then it's your turn? How about it, kitten?"

No hesitation in your eyes as you gazed up at him as if he had hand painted all of the stars in the sky. You nodded profusely and he grinned at you; swiping the spit away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

"Good girl, remember your safe signal?" He asked, almost sweet in his tone.

You tapped the back of his thigh 3 times with your finger and he nodded. Feathering his fingers through your hair again, your hand still at the base of his dick lining him up to your waiting mouth. You gave him the go ahead as he thrusted shallowly into your mouth at first. Finally in your mouth his hands speared through your hair behind your ears to hold you still as he began to move his hips back and forth. You had done this before. Let him do this. But this time was so raw and so needy you honestly couldn't fathom how much you needed this. And it wasn't even your turn. He began to set up a rhythm working his length deeper with every thrust; starting to make you gag as you tried your best to relax. He breathed in sharply, his head thrown back as he pumped in and out. His shaft gliding smoothly across your tongue and beginning to slip down your throat as you sputtered around him. Hands firmly gripping the back of his thighs, the same way he was gripping your hair.

"Fuck, fuck. Your mouth. Kills me." He mumbled to himself; thinking you couldn't hear.

You looked up at him, a picture of bliss. Arms locked in place, keeping you still as he slid in and out of your mouth, picking up speed now. The veins in his neck; protruding under a velvet blanket of Frosted skin. Teeth gritted and brows furrowed. He looked down to see you already watching him. To this he groaned deep within his chest at the sight of you so willing and ready for him. Setting his nerves alight he could feel his orgasm approaching. Gripping your hair even tighter as he gave you a moment to breath before jackhammering into your mouth with a low whine.

"Fuck. Holy shit." He whispered before you felt his cock twitch deep in your throat and thick ropes of cum travel down it as he came; hips jerking at weird angles as you noticed sweat beading across his neck and collarbones; reaching up to his hairline.

After he had composed himself he pulled out of your mouth and you swallowed everything still left in your mouth before opening your mouth to show it was empty. He ran a solid hand through his own hair before he pulled you to your feet; planting a heavy kiss to your lips as he walked you back towards the bed. Practically pushing you back on it with a soft bounce. He suddenly rounded to the other side of the hotel room rummaging through a suitcase. Soon returning with several black ties in hand. Giving you a knowing smirk. You felt your stomach sink at the memory of your last adventure with this man. In this hotel room. With those ties. But judging by the look on his face and the fact his previously lifeless cock had begun to spring to life again; you knew it was different.

'I found a martyr, he told me that I'd never'

He began to move you up the bed to where he saw fit. Nodding when he had got you where he wanted. Straddling your waist he grabbed an arm tying the tie around your wrist to then loop it around the headboard. He soon did the same to the other one. Then finally you saw him gazing down at you from above before he slipped a soft silk tie over your eyes fastening it behind your head. Everything went black, but you could hear him; feel him. All around you. Feeling weight either side of your head you suddenly felt breath over your nipple; squirming at the sensation and your clothed pussy clenching around nothing. You felt him kitten lock his way along your breast before landing an unexpected bite against your neck, causing you to pull against the restraints with a sharp intake of breath.

"Remember your safe word, kitten?" He whispered in your ear.

You nodded. "Seesaw."

He sat back on his heels; still straddling you. Crossing his arms with a nod.

"Why is it Seesaw, again?" You ask, a grin sliding onto your face.

He chuckled at this before you felt weight lifted from the bed. You skin crawling with goosebumps as you waited with anticipation. Suddenly feeling deft fingers pulling your leggings and panties down in one swift movement. A beat of silence. Feeling like forever until you felt the same fingers, calloused but oh so soft against the skin of your collarbone.

"You don't remember?" He whispered into the darkness.

You shook your head no as your body began to squirm. Feeling his finger trail delicately down to your chest, followed by his other pointer finger on his left. Circling your nipples in precise motions. You sucked in a breath and your back arched as you felt him blow cool air onto the perking bud.

"Oh kitten, it was the bar where we first met" You could hear the smirk evident in his voice as his fingers trailed underneath the curve of your breasts.

"The night I took you home and ate you so good you nearly passed out." A dry chuckle left his lips at the gasp that left your own.

He began to drag his sturdy fingers slowly; tantalisingly, in soft motions towards your belly button where he would branch out with delicate touch; placing more fingers on your skin as they circled your hipbones. Finally sloping down to your thighs where his grip became firm and he pryed your legs apart to expose you to him. Heat flashing across your face as you whimpered at the action. Oh god. The things he made you feel. You felt electricity surge through your body, bouncing off your bones as you heard him hum.

"Mmmm. So wet, just from sucking my cock, kitten?"

You bit your lip with a whine; nodding profusely. Blush creeping across your cheeks. He seemed to like this as you heard a deep rumbled in his chest in approval. You could feel the bed dip slightly due to transferred weight. Right between your legs. Shit. If only you could see him. What was he doing? Was he pleased? Oh fuck, you didn't shave your le- your thoughts were far removed as you felt lips across the inside of your thigh; just above your knee.

"Shit, I can't wait to taste you." He whispered; sending cool air rushing up to your core.

Feeling his lips drag effortlessly along your thigh to where you wanted him most; needed him. He was tender; savouring the moment. He had missed this, giving you what you wanted. Watching you underneath him. Tasting you; devouring you. That's why he was so quick to cum the first time around. Too excited by the thought of having you again he had started to touch himself in the shower. Thinking of your soft, sweet body; Bending to his every whim. Your mouth stuffed full of his cock. Your enticing wet pussy that always made you blush at the sounds it would make, as he would fuck you. Hard and rough. He groaned at the thought before his face was level with your heat. Soft breaths that made your body wriggle; desperate to escape and want more; all at once. He hooked your knees over his elbows as he held your legs down. blowing against your exposed clit and watching your pussy clench around nothing; glistening with your essence he hungered for.

'With his educated eyes, and his head between my thighs'

"Mmmm. Sweet pussy baby girl." He kissed the apex of your thigh watching you writhe against the restraints. He hadn't even started yet. You were in for a long night.

You didn't seem to notice the name at first. It wasn't what he had called you any of the times before. But as the air thinned out around you; feeling the silence weighted around the room like a thick curtain and nothing was corrected, it almost felt affectionate; coming from his sinful lips that had just attached themselves to your-

"Fuck." Your breath caught as you threw your head back against the mattress.

Feeling lips suckling against your clit with vigor. He knew what you liked and knew how to get you where he wanted you. His tongue began lapping at your clit as his lips sucked where they could. Your breathing was heavy and you tried to pull against the restraints; your legs restless as the odd whimper left parted lips. His eyes although you couldn't see him, were focused on you. Watching every bite of your lip, every salacious moan or whimper; every gasp. You began rocking your hips in a rhythm against his tongue and he moaned at the pressure you posed against him. Trying to feel some friction as his throbbing cock had sprung to life from your first whimper; sandwiched between his abdomen and the mattress.

"God, this pussy is so good." He moaned; muffled by your legs trying so hard to clamp around his head as he continued his ministrations.

Soon enough you could feel the familiar rope spread throughout your body, begin to coil; tight as a spring before you felt a nip to your clit and you unravelled underneath him. Feeling weightless and weighted all at once. Stars beneath the blanket of the silk tie; delicate against your eyes. Head thrashing around as arms pulled with all their might against the restraints. Your back arched as you moaned loudly; legs starting to shake at the force of your orgasm. But that wasn't the end. He flicked his tongue against your swollen clit with more intent. Determined to push you through another orgasm before he even started using his fingers. God his fingers. Your lower body began to lift off the bed as his grip on your legs only got tighter.

"Fuck, fuck Yoongi. Oh my fucking g-"

You heard an animalistic growl as you felt another nip to your clit; yelping at the sudden spark of pain amongst your pleasure.

"Sir. Stick to the rules." He punctuated with a slap to your clit. Back arching for a moment as you felt a pulse throughout your body.

"Or I'll keep biting." He mumbled the last part.

You pouted. "Yes sir." You could feel your orgasm beginning to ebb away as he took longer to return to your clit.

You whined and you felt breath on your clit again as he chuckled. Although your predicament was purely casual. Wanting to get off essentially was your main goal. Neither of you ever rushed. Enjoying one another's company. Feeling his slick, swift tongue dancing along your clit again you moaned; trying so hard to keep quiet out of respect for neighbours as you tried resting your mouth against your arm to muffle your high pitched moans. His tongue retracted until you felt the tip of his tongue tease the edge of your entrance before dipping his tonulgue in for a moment. Your hips bolted you forward at the intrusion before settling back down on the bed. His tongue running up and down from your entrance to your clit in long strokes. Quickly settling his tongue back against your throbbing clit. You yelped as he applied more pressure.

"Fuck, I love this cunt."

Slurping noises ensued as he dove in deeper. You orgasm building again and again, holding on for dear life. Holding onto your sanity. His tongue swirling around the pulsing bud as you continued your previous rhythm rocking against his face. Your knuckles were turning white at the sheer grip you had on the ties; feeling yourself drift away.

"Fuck, please, yoo-"

He pressed his face even further into your heat as you cried out in pleasure. Tongue flicking mercilessly over your engorged clit. Reaching the summit again to fall all the way down into the abyss. He never let up from you as his tongue lapped at your juices spilling from your entrance. Nerves alight and pulsing throughout your body. A thin layer of sweat was evident against your face, collarbones; the whole of your body. Sweat beaded from his own forehead and he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth as he watched you regain your breath. Stilted in the silence. Only your chest rising and falling as your lungs gasped for air.

He loosened his right arms hold around your leg and brought his fingers forward to your sensitive pussy. Humming to himself as he gathered the Juices on the tip of his fingers and spreading it all over your pussy as it glistened in the dim hotel light. Knowing how much you lost your collective shit over his hands he couldn't help but watch his hands tip toe up to your breast; squeezing the flesh roughly in his hand before slinking it over to massage your neck for a second. Only to grab it a moment later. Your breath caught quite literally as you could feel the bed move from where he was sitting up. He could feel the pressure against your soft skin and the way your breath constricted; only for a moment as he loosened his grip. His fingers still flush against the skin. His veined hand looked like it belonged around your neck. He thought to himself before sliding his thumb into your mouth again; which you accepted with enthusiasm.

'I found a saviour, I don't think he remembers'

"One more from you, kitten. Then I'll fuck you. Okay?" He hummed.

Your reply was noncommittal as you nodded vehemently; still sucking on his thumb. He looked down at you with a certain adoration. Laying there, naked for him. Tied up and blindfolded. If he'd have thought this would be the case after that first night, he would have laughed. But here you both were.

His fingers began to trace the outline of your entrance; whisper like touches that made you clench around nothing. He began experimentally pushing his long slender middle finger inside you a little; chuckling lowly as you let out a whine. Your pussy trying to suck him in further. Wanting to feel him. All of him.

"Sir. Please." You murmured, legs that were now free from his grasp allowing you to rotate your hips.

He wanted to tease. God. He wanted to tease you until the sun came up. But he was desperate and so were you. He removed his finger earning a cry from you. Until he slid in two fingers to your shock and set a brutal pace. Feeling those godly fingers of his curl into you. Moulding you perfectly to him. Tapping against that sweet spot inside. He used his other hand to press your hips to the bed; preventing movement as you felt a touch of sensitivity kicking in. But you put it to the back of your mind; focussing on the way his fingers were drilling into you at an inhuman pace now.

Your senses heightened due to his silk tie that blocked your view. Oh how you wished you could watch his fingers sliding in and out of you like you had done countless times before. Acquiring quite the affinity with the mans hands. Pale, veiny; strong in their ability to hold you but soft when he caressed your cheek, wiping the spit away from the corner of your mouth or the pad of his thumb sweeping away tears from overstimulation. God you loved them.

"Fuck. I'm so close." You cried out, to someone. Anyone who could hear you as he continued his ministrations.

"Yeah? The slut loves my fingers doesn't she?" Yoongi spat; his voice laced with venom.

"Loves my fingers fucking her, huh?"

All you could do was mewl as you could feel your body going into overdrive. Your head slamming against the pillow as you could feel yourself near the edge. Just needing one final push.

"But you love it best when my hand's around your throat. Isn't that right? Slut?"

You hadn't felt his hand move. Too lost in the pleasure he was giving you. Until you felt it grip your throat. Not hard. But just enough. Squeezing when he said slut. Sparks flew and your fingers and toes felt as if they were set to a light simmer. Your body going numb at the feeling and your pussy throbbing as you came. A high pitched moan of his name left your bitten lips as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of you. Body moving in time with your spasming cunt as you began to feel the overstimulation kicking in, rearing its ugly head once more. The pain was excruciating as he continued but the pleasure washed over you again as your entrance continued to clench around his fingers. Silence as a moan caught in your throat. This had to be the biggest orgasm you had ever had. Nerves set alight with matches and turning into a forest fire that exploded like gasoline until it set to a simmer when Yoongi slowed his fingers down ever so slightly. Enamoured by your head thrown back and your mouth in the perfect shape of an O. He would've cum right there, just at the sight of you convulsing beneath him.

"Cause he's off to pay his crimes, and he's got no time for mine'

"Fuck, me." He breathed, shaky breaths too.

Quickly flipping you onto your front, your still tied arms now crossed over one another. Propping your legs up so you were on your knees. A sharp smack to your ass sent you reeling into another sobbing mess. Beginning to plead with him. For something; anything.

Soon enough you felt his hands returning to your hips and ass, caressing them carefully. Your ass flinching at the contact of his lips on your lower back, you could hear a slight slapping sound behind you, assuming he had started to touch himself again. You whimpered at the thought of not being able to watch his veiny hand slide up and down his equally veiny cock. Fuck.

His lips still against your skin as he whispered "I nearly came just like that, watching you cum all over my fingers baby."

There it was again. Baby. Nothing more nothing less. There was a pregnant pause before he sighed, beginning to speak again.

"You're so fucking hot" a groan sounded as the pace of his hand quickened against his length. The slapping sound intensified.

You whimpered, beginning to move your ass up and down, wiggling it at him to invite him in.

"Yoongi, just fuck me already." You whined.

A sharp slap sounded against your ass, reverberating through the room. You winced at the pain, taking in a quick breath before a hand returned to your ass kneading it in his palm.

"Slut is so impatient today. I'll fuck you, don't worry." His words were menacing.

'Now we're lost somewhere in outer space, in a hotel room where demons play'

His hand continued to knead at your reddening cheek before pulling it aside with his thumb, showing your dripping, waiting entrance for him. He almost lost it. Almost. Deciding that you had both waited long enough he lined his throbbing condom clad cock up with your entrance and pushed in with great speed. Hissing at the feeling of your tight wet walls surrounding him.

"Oh god." You managed a strangled whimper into the mattress.

Breath caught in your throat as you could feel his dick beginning to move swiftly inside you. His hips slapping against your ass that was sure to bruise tomorrow, your wrists were aching, your body going numb to every other feeling apart from the feeling of him ploughing into you. Your vision was starry eyed and you hated it. But you loved it. Sobs began to rack through your body as he spanked you once again, sending waves of pain and pleasure through you.

His pace continued as all you could do was lie there with your hands tied, begging for anything he was willing to give you. But also feeling the familiar sting of too much. But it was never too much. You willed your body to continue on. To not give up the ghost yet. You prayed for your body to fight on. To take every thrust he battered into your throbbing, weeping pussy.

The coil you had almost forgotten existed now in the plains of numb, vacant ability to even string a sentence together, began to tighten again, expecting a fraying spent body, not one this eager for your umpteenth orgasm this evening. Your pussy clenched as he continued, hollow groans you imagine him with his head back as he thrusted into you, licking his perfect lips with that sinful tongue. God, he made you crazy.

"Yoongiiiiii, fuck I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, please" your tone indescribable as you panted for breath that escaped you with every thrust as his skin continued to slap against yours.

Suddenly feeling him pull out which almost made you weep but being turned back over onto your back, the tie being ripped from off your head. You were greeted by a furiously sweating Yoongi. Sweat dripping from his dark chocolatey hair just above his eyes. His lips swollen pink from where he had probably been biting on them so much, not to mention when he had used the same lips to devour you not 20 minutes prior. His chest was heaving and lips parted as he gazed at you for a moment.

"I'm seeing that gorgeous face when you cum, no way I'm missing that." He stifled a laugh as he lined himself up with your entrance again after wrapping your legs around his torso.

'They run around beneath our feet, we roll around beneath these sheets'

Sliding in once more you rattled your wrists against the silk tie restraints as you cocked your head back in pleasure. You let out a high pitch moan, almost exasperated in tone, your back arching up into him before slumping back on the bed in defeat. Yoongi almost reading your mind whilst still thrusting inside of you began to untie the ties that bound your wrists. You thanked heaven for your saving grace. You could run your hands through his hair now, feel his sweaty skin beneath your fingertips. And soon after your hands were free he laced them in his own. This also being new to you. You knew the drill when having sex with him. He laid down the ground rules early on. No kissing. No cuddling. No hand holding. So what he did next really sent you through a loop.

"Fuck I'm close." He sighed before leaning down to kiss you.

His lips were salty, battered and bruised much like your own but you didn't care, you kissed back with all your might as he continued to thrust away inside you. Feeling his cock hit that sweet spot again you mewled, breaking the kiss with your head thrown back.

"Here kitten?" He asked, smirk evident in his voice.

You whimpered with a nod as he continued to thrust in the right place, hitting your spot so deliciously you couldn't help cry out when his pace turned rampant and he held your hips in his bone crushing hands, sure to bruise tomorrow. The punishing pace was set as his hips bucked into you and you tried to grab at anything you could, finding no sturdy comfort in the crisp white hotel sheets beneath you. Your breathing was erratic, you hadn't realised you'd been sweating until now, although not as much as the man above you. You watched in distracted awe at the sweat running down his broad chest, along his stomach and down to where his cock was pummelling into you.

You could feel it again, serious this time. Your orgasm creeping up on you faster than any bullet. Your legs tingled and your toes curled. Your knees felt like they would break and your arms felt detached from the rest of your body. In the last moments you saw him gazing down at you, exasperated, fucked out beyond belief. But smiling. You reached up at the nape of his neck and pulled him down to you, pressing your lips against his as you succumbed to the pleasure that wreaked havoc throughout your body. A heart wrenching shout came from your lips. In every moment, a glitch of your body as it spasmed with unruly disregard and poor timing. Your pussy clenched repeatedly on his cock while he continued to thrust inside of you.

"Oh fuuuck, I'm coming." He groaned into your neck as he used hard, purposeful thrusts as he came in the condom.

'He's coming down, coming down'

The sweat that accumulated on both your bodies cemented you together for moments after. All pretence and notions suspended as you both caught your breath back. Heaving. Breathing one another in. Soon Yoongi peeled himself off of you and went to remove the condom. You lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Stars still there. You weren't imagining it in the end. Scraping your hair from off your face as you wiped the sweat from your brow. Soon he returned, bouncing onto the bed next to you, looking up at you in adoration almost. A nervous smile present on his lips as if he didn't just drag you to the 7th layer of hell with him. Or was it heaven? You could never be sure.

You looked over at him with heavy lids, inquisitive look on your face as he swept hair from your shoulder. Looking down at you with that same smile. Before -

"You fancy going on a date, some time?"

NOW Mr Min is usually not my main man but i can't help it, just, shit okay Min Yoongi.

I realise I'm probably going to hell for this but we joon

Hope you guys enjoyed, working on the next installment as we speak 🤪 if you want to be added to a taglist let me know 🥴

Love Always

Mac 🧡💜

#BADLANDS x BTS #smut series #myg x reader #non idol au #min yoongi smut #this is intense #i can only apologise #bts #bangtan #bts smut

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lilmajorshawty · 4 years ago

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What are your favourite moon signs for a woman to have? Just like you did for the men!!

HAHA that’s so hard women handle their moons energy WAYYYY better!

Virgo moon : they are genuine and extremely childlike but in a youthful tone not an immature one. They want to explore the world and hate the idea of limiting their spirit but at the same time love is always in their back burner. There’s a purity to them which is why it hurts so much to see them hurt. They do genuinely care for others and take the needs and feelings of others into consideration before they ever choose themselves which is why it can be such a shock to those around them when they finally do choose “them.” I have nothing bad to say about virgo moon women expect for the fact that sometimes their ability to completely disconnect from their emotions can cause problems for friendships/family and lovers at times because they can truly “move on”

Cancer moon : I’ve met a many cancer moon women and they are some of the fiercest, intense and most caring people I know. Their main pitfalls are having a baby complex, and being a tad self centered without realizing. They are honestly sooooo family oriented and tend to at times not afford that same compassion to outsiders but that’s mainly just because family is their center for better or for worse. So when the family life isn’t going well they can be a tad dismantled. They are big on self care and despite the generazlizations of cancer moons they tend to be highly independent. Love is on their forefront and they tend to be moody in terms of their romantic and sexual desires just because at the end of the day what matters the most to them is being comfortable. They are eternally wonderful but as I said that chilike self centeredness is always swimming just beneath the surface.

Aries moon : these women are intense. They see and feel with a great passion but also feel nothing with a great disinterest and lack of involvement. If they want something or if you happen to find yourself in the path of their movement they can be all consuming and almost as if a million suns landed their rays on you at once. They want a level of authenticity and honesty in all interactions and the moment they can tell you’re not up to par or on their level they subtly lose interest, detach and become less involved. They are SOOOOO heavy energy wise and a lot of the times you’ll be intimidated by the sexuality, the confidence and empress like nature of them. They really run shit.

Aquarius moon : they are an interesting combination of there and not there. They have this otherworldly, hard to catch vibe. Like the cool kid from Highschool that started all the trends effortlessly, the one everyone wanted to jump into the skin of. They can be eery and a tad depressive but then They’ll suddenly take on a more altruistic vibe? They can be moodier than cancer moons but more servicing than virgo moons. They love and need to be around others and that is their only big flaw, they never really know how to deal with things on their own. But they somehow manage to be loners by nature? They are honestly so full of endless paradoxes but that’s what makes them so unique.

Scorpio moon : now these natives are truly a enigma. Scorpio moon women are everything you read about Scorpio sun men but reversed in a fun house Mirror and decorated with these pretty roses and tulips. They can be blunt, tenacious and fearlessly able to act out what their thinking and feeling. They have a paranoia about sharing their inner shades and prefer to keep their feelings deep inside unless coaxed to do so by a patient lover or friend. They’re honest but you must start by being honest you’re self if you want them to truly open up. They aren’t ones to be manipulated as they naturally view people as self serving and they see the natural power dynamics that exist among people which is often why they prefer to be the one in control. Sex is a big part of their lives and dare I say it’s a big destresser for them. They’re probably the most sexually fluid and emotionally complex of the bunch but they are wonderful souls.

Leo moon : litteral angels. They fly through really intense emotions quietly, loudly, somberly, happily, all so quickly and all dramatically as if they’re in some play. They are so affectionate and deeply caring but they also have a tendency to be needy and self absorbed. They can see The big picture always but sometimes get wrapped up in the idea of how they individually fit in it all. They can be drawn to presences like a moth is to fire and they can also find themselves swarming in a pool of love and loveless situations mainly because their emotional world lives in the realm of love. They tend to adjust themselves when in groups or when around certain people as they want to make the situations easy and without issue or clashing personalities. Very rarely will anyone ever really see their real self and that self is often showed in seldom as it is much more vulnerable and softer than the strong lioness they would like everyone to believe them as.

That being said there’s many others I would mention but I wanted to do my top favorites.

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suometar · 3 years ago

Text

Indeed, we all have faced the issue of non-functional links. It's inconvenient in daily life, but it has more significant concequences than we ever thought of.

This article made me really understand for the first time how valuable printed information actually is and WHY we should get back into printing books as soon as possible.

Because as a ton of information is stored only online and no more in printed format, it is easy to get rid of it just by breaking the link that used to work. This happens in most cases simply by accident. But not always.

Views on this post are based on my experience as a professional web designer since early 2000's.

HOW THIS HAPPENS

URL structures are renewed (and thus broken) usually when a website is renewed or updated to meet modern standards. It is very destructive especially when the whole content management system (CMS) is changed. Usually it means that the whole way the system handles the content changes and with it the url structure.

For example that the old url domain.com/articles might after the update be domain.com/blog instead. When this happens - poof - all your old urls are all gone - even though the content might still exist.

WHY IT IS BAD

What makes url changes bad is that the old urls are still linked to from other websites. Thus all references from outside the website get broken and the information is no longer accessible from outside the website itself. This is unless the website owner makes sure the old urls are redirected to the new ones (when you type domain.com/articles to your browser you're redirected automatically to domain.com/blog)

In most cases the url change is an uninteted consequence the organisation doesn't recognise during the renewal process.

It can also be deliberate. This however isn't always just url changes but something far more malicious.

ONLINE CONTENT AND REMOVAL REQUESTS

The most vunerable content of all is the information that keeps our societies together, allows its development and last but not least allows freedom of thought and speech. These would be for example legal documentation and scientific research and access to information that you can use to educate you and allows you to make educated conclusions of the world.

All of this is mostly influenced by the way we nowadays find it. Come in Google.

Google is deliberately using algorithms that chooses the content you find. In most cases it actually offers you the information that is current and fits your search terms.

Unless the search terms are somehow controversial. Suddenly the given results on the first pages at least are no longer impartial but instead the kind of content Google WANTS you to see. This is directly affected by Google being a business instead of impartial search engine devoted to sharing and finding the information you in fact are looking for.

That is one thing.

But another is that Google is deliberately removing information from its search index (the database they use to crawl and quickly retrieve online content to respond to the search terms). Yes, in most cases this is information that is right to be removed, such as child porn. Unfortunately they also remove content, such as legal and controversial scientific content, based on court orders.

WHY REMOVING INFORMATION BASED ON ANY ORDERS IS BAD

And as we all know, everything that is online can be very easily forged. This opinion post on Washington Post tells about a case where court ordered an online service (Yelp) to remove a business review by a client. Unfortunately the lawsuit was apparently made by someone else than the business itself (though in their name).

While that case is not directly related to Google the Lumen project (which is dedicated in listing of online removal requests) lists several similar requests made directly to Google and to other online services. In 2016 a researcher found out that in fact a large number of the requests were outright Photoshop forgeries.

The online services have a hard time in knowing what is in fact real order and what is not. And THIS is what makes the removal based on requests problematic.

It gives the opportunity to forge a removal order to basically anyone who thinks some information should be removed for ANY reason. Google or Bing don't ask the court directly if the documentation is correct but instead they trust the filer of the request to be honest in their request.

WHY WE SHOULDN'T TRUST SEARCH ENGINES BLINDLY ANYMORE

We trust search engines to give us the correct information. That is basic trust people have developed towards search engines - because they USED TO BE trustworthy. They weren't maximazing profits but instead actually interested in helping information sharing.

Free and unlimited information sharing is the core on which the whole internet was built on.

If anyone can say that this or that content is solely in my opinion bad or unwanted and I want it removed from search engine, this severely disrupts information being freely available to those who seek it.

Thus it crumbles the whole basis of the internet.

WHAT CAN YOU DO TO FIND THE INFORMATION YOU ACTUALLY ARE LOOKING FOR

With outdated and broken links:

Most likely the place where the broken link is covers a certain topic. Use the topic and any references you have on that place to the broken link source and search it with a search engine. Most likely the information IS still online - the old links to it just aren't working anymore.

Yes, it takes time and effort. But nothing worth doing is EASY. We just have unfortunately forgotten that.

To find the information you need a trustworthy search engine:

To do the research the most effective thing you can do is to either

Change your primary search engine to an independent and open sourced one - such as DuckDuckGo.com that doesn't decide for you what information you should find, OR

Start comparing the results of both Google AND of an independed search engine, - such as before mentioned - then read the results, and make up your mind about the subject.

As mentioned, none of this ia EASY to do. But we need to take responsibility on how we view the world AND that we stay educated.

WHY WE SHOULD GET BACK TO PRINTING BOOKS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE

Printed books have been the way to preserve and relay information throughout generations for thousands of years. The format is superior: as long as it's stored in a dry and cool place and printed/written on proper paper it is usable even after a very long time. To use it doesn't require anything else but the ablity to read the characters and some light to be able to see the text - or images.

But the books aren't valuable as itself unless you find the ones you're seeking for. You need a library system and caretakers for the information - librarians.

Both of these combined you have an equivalent to a search engine - but in physical format. In the format that information has been stored and shared until this day.

When the information is solely online it is constantly vulnerable to significant threats:

losing electricity

losing the links to the content

curation of information flow based on profit calculations

the whims of someone who thinks it's wrong information and shouldn't be available.

Simply a worldwide electricity disruption - caused for example by a powerful emp or a solar flare - can make finding information online impossible and at worst, destroy it.

Yes, printed books can be burned. But when enough books are distributed worldwide the information remains physically somewhere.

And that is where printed books are far superior to anything that is stored online.

The search for the information might be far more difficult with printed books but at least it's always somewhere and at least some of it remains. It is not undestructable but you can always copy them.

Saving the information and stories in physical format has been done since humans developed the skill to relay information by drawing and later by writing. A lot of it all is still available today.

If online sources are destroyed or made impossible to find we have nothing.

#internet #information technology #computers #books #google #thoughts from the crypt #long post

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imaginesupply · 4 years ago

Text

Homecoming - Chapter Five

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Five starts after the cut. (Chapter Four can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

A/N: I am aware of the neutral, perhaps positive, portrait of the police I painted in this chapter. I am fully conscious of the recent (and not so recent) instances of police brutality happening all around the world, many – if not most – of them motivated by racism and other despicable ideologies. With this chapter, I did NOT mean to express support for the police forces. I simply had this ‘plot’ idea come to my mind and decided to write it. There is no ulterior motive.

While all my personal experiences with the police have been positive, I am aware that my ethnicity gives me privilege and that many people are not as lucky as I am. This both angers and saddens me. It has to change.

Black lives matter. Minority lives matter.

Chapter 5

Chapter warnings: Cockwarming, irresponsible driving (kind of), car accident (not serious), police (but no police violence), very mild violence, language (perhaps a little bit worse than in previous chapters but nothing you don’t hear in real life, I guess), mentions of mysogyny.

Ada yawned with Sy quickly following suit. “You can drive my car if you want, Sy. It’s not that new anymore, you know.” She offered, gracing him with the most angelic smile she could muster. It was the first time she was granting him the opportunity to drive her car.

Sy laughed next to her, his left hand moving over the center console to rub her thigh. He had that stupid grin again, that looking endearing with his current droopy eyes. “It’s your car, darlin’. Besides, you’d kill me if I ever so much as got a scratch on it.” He chuckled, suppressing another yawn. “And I know you’re only offering because you want to sleep.”

His wife gasped, a look of mocking offense on her features. “They’re your nephews!”

“But you were the one who said yes,” Sy countered, his eyes closing again as he made himself more comfortable on the car seat. The drive home was only about one hour and a half, but it was the perfect length for a nap.

“What the fuck was I supposed to say, huh?” Ada laughed, gesticulating wildly as was her habit. “Yes, Joshua, I understand you’re taking my pregnant sister-in-law to the hospital. No, I will not look after your kids for the night. It’s our date night.”

Next to her, Sy grimaced. She did have a point, even if he had been looking forward to going bowling with her: Ada was a sore loser which always ended with lots of fun for him. At least, his sister and the baby were okay. Just a normal case of Braxton Hicks, apparently, whatever that was supposed to mean. Perhaps it was good thing Ada didn’t want children because he’d freak out if she started having contractions four months in. “You fell asleep on Luke’s bed at one in the morning when you tried to get him to sleep for the third time and I had to spend the whole night entertaining them with tea parties because they wouldn’t tire!”

“Hey! That’s not cool!” She protested accusatorily, her eyes on the road as she switched lanes to take the next exit. “I didn’t know you couldn’t give kids sugar after a certain hour!”

Sy huffed, shaking his head. They’d had the great idea to bring donuts because according to his dear wife, sugar always made you feel better when you was anxious or down, and the kids had been aware something was off with their mom. “We suck at this parenting thing.”

“You don’t say!” Ada laughed, before loudly cursing at driver who’d just cut her off, something which never failed to make Sy smile. “The nap’s going to feel heavenly once we’re home.”

Sy hummed in agreement, his head falling back against the headrest as he drifted off, hiding his eyes from the sun with his cap. Ada glanced sideways at him, shaking her head. Part of her wanted to shake him awake. If she had to suffer, so did he. But he was right, she had slept more than him and he looked too peaceful to disturb, especially with some leftover glitter still on his cheeks.

Suddenly, there was a mild thump and the car stuttered before stopping, startling Ada who jumped on her seat.

"Shit!" She cursed. "Did I just...?" She began to panic, her eyes moving to the red car in front of them, too close. She had bumped it while she had been distracted by her husband’s stupid, sleepy face!

"Yes, yes you did," Sy laughed next to her. Ada was a good driver and she loved driving, but she was easily distracted and Sy never failed to tease her about it. This time, however, he could tell she was scared from the way her chest was heaving with her shallow breaths. "Want me to deal with it, darlin'?" He offered, tilting his head at the other driver who had just come out of the red, broken-down car.

"No!" Ada protested all too quickly, taking off her seatbelt and grabbing the necessary documents from the glovebox, accidentally hitting his knees in the process. "I am an independent woman who don't need no help," she muttered, trying to convince herself of her own statement. In the eight years since she’d had her gotten her licence, she had never given any of her cars a single scratch, let alone gotten into an accident.

Sy grinned at her antics but tried to hide his amusement, not wanting to make it worse. "All right. I'm here in case you need me, okay?" With a determined nod in his direction, Ada stepped out of the car and attempted to summon the Annalise Keating or the Olivia Pope inside her, whichever she could find in herself.

The man from the red car, who seemed to be in his early forties and balding, was already inspecting his vehicle for damage – looking mighty pissed as he did so. Ada approached the impact point from the other side, noticing the bump on the man’s old car. It didn't look too bad, she sighed with relief. Her own car barely had anything. Ha! She would have to use this as an argument next time Sy and her started discussing cars. Her black Citroën DS5 was sturdy and not just fancy looking, unlike what he said.

"Hello, sir," she said calmly, the man instantly looking up at her. Damn! He really looked furious, seething even. "I am so sorry for this. I was a little distracted- Anyway, it doesn't matter. My insurance will cover whatever repairs your car may require."

"You stupid little bitch!" The man shouted, out of the blue.

Ada gasped, backtracking. The muscles in her jaw twitched. What the fuck was wrong with him? "I understand your anger, but there's no-"

"What were you even doing behind that wheel?" He snarled, gesturing at her car, her baby. "Who the hell lets women like you drive cars like that?!” The man cursed, aggressively waving his hand in the air.

She just stood there, still in shock. Did... did he just bring misogyny into a fender bender situation?! "Women like me?!" She repeated, quite stunned.

"Aye! Bitches like you have no business driving-”

Ada flinched at the man’s words. He was starting to breech the distance between them, moving too close to her. Ada jumped again when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder before realizing it belonged to Sy and letting herself exhale slowly. Thank God he didn’t listen to her and stayed in the car!

"I get that you’re pissed, but that's no way to talk to a lady. You should to apologize," Sy told the man, making it sound very much like an order and very little like a suggestion. The driver huffed before coming closer, his face about as red as the car as when he started laughing. Ada instinctively hid under Sy's arm, though she aware of the ridicule of the whole situation.

"That's your whore? You let your whore drive your car?!"

Okay, this was going too far. It left her lips before she could help it, "that's my own goddamn car, you wanker!". Maybe it was time to stop borrowing insults from Tom.

Ada could almost hear how his jaw clenched when she felt Sy's whole body tense up against hers. "Call her a whore one more time and you're gonna wish she had run you over instead."

This was escalating. Ada bit her lower lip. She was going to have to be the bigger person here. "Look, I'll just go grab my phone from the car and call the police. They'll deal with this." Ada announced, dislodging herself from Sy’s grip before turning around to get to her car.

Her hand had just wrapped around the car door handle when there was a clouting noise, quickly followed by a loud thump, this time. Ada immediately turned around at the sound. The angry driver was out cold on the ground, blood rushing out of his nose and forehead, with Sy looking down at him, the same blood tainting his fist.

"Oh shit!"

°°°

A lanky guy, smelling heavily of pot, was thrown inside the almost full holding cell by the same officer who had arrested him. Sy was amused at the sight until the guy, after a full survey of the room, started walking him up to him before sitting down on the bench far too close for his liking.

Exhaling through his nose, Sy tried ignoring the smell and closed his eyes again. He didn’t expect the nap he had been looking forward to, to be in a stinky cell with stinky men but it would have to make do. At least, after the man sitting closest to the entrance had commented on the leftover pink glitter that still shone in Sy’s beard, nobody had bothered him anymore – not after he quite literally made the man piss himself with just one stare. That man wouldn’t have survived a single day in Baqubah.

"It's cramped in here," the new guy commented nonchalantly though his eyes were fixed on Sy. Out of politeness - damn Ada and her insistence on good manners! - Sy acknowledged his useless statement with a noncommittal hum.

"Name's Ben, by the way," he said, stretching out of his hand but Sy didn’t move a muscle. What was it in his current posture - crossed arms and spread legs - that made him appear friendly enough for a chat, he wondered, rolling his eyes behind his closed eyelids.

"And you are...?"

Sy groaned out loud time. "Not interested."

Ben didn’t get the hint and proceeded to ramble off about how he got caught selling pot near the university. Sy was actively working on drowning out his voice when the sound of fast and angry clicking heels on the concrete floor caught his attention. He smiled. Ada. Apparently, she hadn’t changed and was still dressed for date night, wearing a dress and stilettos, even though they had only meant to go bowling and eat at a steakhouse.

Somehow, everyone in the holding cell must have been intrigued by the same sound because all conversation suddenly stopped, the men all hoping to eavesdrop.

"I am here for Syverson. I wish to talk to him."

"Ma'am, I apologize but we are not allowed to let him out of his cell."

"Not a problem. Just give me the keys and I'll let him out myself!"

Every person in the holding cell laugh with Sy grinning quietly, amused at how she sounded distinctively more foreign when she was mad. He was used to her accent in more intimate settings, but he was enjoying the sound of it during her current outburst which was followed by an uninterrupted string of curse words and insults alike, all coming from her delicate mouth. First, in English, then French. Spanish. Portuguese. Italian. Sy frowned at the last one, he didn’t recognize it. Was it German? He'd have to ask her.

"What a woman, huh," the guy next to him deadpanned, still not giving up on a conversation.

Silence fell again as everyone attempted to listen to the rest. “I swear to God I’ll hang your heads up in my living room if –“

Sy only huffed, leaning back against the cold wall. "You can't even begin to imagine."

"You know her?" The pothead quipped up.

"Yeah," Sy replied. "She’s my wife." He said it loud enough to make sure everyone was able to hear it.

“Oh,” came the nasal voice next to him just as they heard heavy, resigned footsteps become louder.

A different policeman stopped just behind the door, a colleague just behind him as he fished out the right key from his pocket. “Syverson,” he called out loudly. “There’s a woman here for you.”

Sy got up at once, unable to hide his smug smirk. Ada always got her way.

°°°

“What the fuck were you thinking, Sy?!” His wife blurted out as soon as she was let inside the interview room, the young officer locking the door from the outside. Then, turning around, she caught sight of her husband handcuffed to the table and her shoulders instantly slacked, her anger vanishing almost instantly. “What you did was disproportionate,” she sighed, her voice calmer as she took a seat in front of him, the cold iron table separating them.

"He called you a whore, I just punched him!" Sy protested, leaning back on the chair. "My response was disproportionate - disproportionately small."

"You knocked him out cold!" Ada reminded him, her voice pitching higher than usual but the only response she got from Sy was a smug grin. "He might press charges, you know. It's battery."

Sy rolled his eyes, sitting up straight. "He’s an asshole."

Now, it was her turn to roll her eyes although she knew he hated it when she did that. She took a deep breath, hoping to calm down. Sy was looking entirely unbothered, but she was freaking out at the situation. "I'll try to convince him not to press charges and offer to cover the medical bill on top of the car repairs in return."

"Medical bill?" Sy asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"Yes. After the police took you into custody, he was brought to the hospital. From what I heard, he has a broken nose, needed stitches on his forehead and got a concussion." Sy only huffed with a smirk. "This is not funny, Syverson!"

"It wasn't funny when he called you a whore either," Sy countered. He was right. It was also very pleasant to see that dickhead in pain, but she wouldn’t tell him that.

"Look, my friend, Gale, who's a lawyer, is on her way. I'll get you out of here tonight. He’ll either agree to drop the charges or I’ll bail you out."

The corners of his lips twitched. He moved his hands as much as the chain allowed, to grab hers and squeeze them in his large ones. "Are you worried about me, darlin'?"

What a teasing little shit he could be! Of course, she was worried about him! He was in a cell! Feigning innocence, Ada smiled, running her thumbs over the back of his hands. "I am not. However, seeing what you did to that prick just got me really horny and I would like to have you back in my bed tonight," she whispered, watching as her husband’s smug grin slowly disappeared as she got up and grabbed her purse, heading to the door.

"You better get me out of here quickly!" Sy called after her.

°°°

He was returned to the holding cell, the officer uncuffing his wrists again once the bars closed behind him. There were two new faces, but he also recognized that at least three men had left already. Unfortunately, pothead was still there.

“I saved you your spot,” Ben smiled wildly, gesturing at the vacant portion of the bench next to him. “The guy in the red shirt was going to sit here but I told him it was occupied.”

Sy merely hummed, taking the seat that had so generously been saved for him. Hopefully Ada would get him out quickly because he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with his chatty neighbour.

“Was she mad?” Ben asked, whispering loudly and defeating the entire purpose of a whisper in the first place. “Did she yell at you?”

Despite his closed eyes, Sy could feel Ben’s stare on him as he awaited an answer. “No.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully, shaking the uneven bench as he did so. “If we go to prison, I want to share a cell with you.”

If Ada didn’t get him out of there quickly, he was soon going to get charged for battery again.

°°°

Sy stood by the counter, his attention on the ugly Christmas decorations he hadn’t noticed when they brought him in hours earlier. Somehow, he had managed to forget all about it. And fuck, he still needed to get Ada a present!

“Here are your things,” the young officer told him as he slid over a transparent plastic bag.

With a curt nod, Sy ripped it open and fetched his wedding band first, before looking for his wallet and belt. He was already heading to the door when he turned around at the last minute. “Did Mrs. Syverson post my bail?”

“No, the charges were dropped.”

Huffing with amusement and a hint of pride, Sy zipped up his coat and headed to the front door. He swiftly descended the stairs in front of the precinct, his face illuminating at the sight of her. She was still wearing the black dress and the fancy shoes, her makeup now lightly smudged around her eyes.

As soon as he was close enough, his hands moved to Ada's waist and he leaned down to kiss her, only for her to pull away at his touch. "Not so fast, big guy," she teased, a glint in her eyes as she grabbed something out of her coat pocket he couldn't yet identify. "You're still in trouble."

Sy threw back his head, his laugh booming through the night sky as he finally saw what she was holding up in front of him. Handcuffs, and not the fluffy ones either.

"Now gimme your hands," Ada demanded, making him cock his brow at her authoritative tone.

With a chuckle he obeyed, presenting her his hands. "Yes, ma'am."

Sy watched keenly as she fumbled with the cuffs to get them around his wrists, and then seized the right opportunity to take the upper hand, easily taking the cuffs away from her small hands.

With a shriek, Ada found herself bent over the black hood of her own car, her cheek pressed up against the slick surface and her husband's body pressed up against hers. She could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke. "Mrs. Syverson, you're under arrest for unlawful teasing back in the questioning room." Ada scoffed, the sound weakened by his heavy weight on top of her. "You have the right to remain silent. Everything you do say can and will be held against you in-"

"Your dick!" Ada suddenly blurted out, a little too loud given where they were, and Sy immediately stopped, clearly surprised, but she quickly felt him laugh against her back.

Before she could join him, Sy smacked her ass, effectively silencing her. "Guess I'll have to fuck that attitude out of you," he grunted before pulling away and fastening the cuffs around her wrists.

Ada kept complaining as he carefully dragged her inside the car. Despite her struggling, Sy easily opened the right backdoor and threw her on the backseat, mindful to fasten her seatbelt before closing the door. Her eyes widened and her mouth went agape when Sy sat down behind the steering wheel and proceeded to push back the driver’s seat and readjust all the mirrors.

“Are you shitting me?” She exclaimed, leaning forward on her seat as much as the belt would allow. He was messing up with all her settings and the grin on her face made it very clear that he was doing it all on purpose just to get her riled up.

“Language, darlin’,” he chided, turning on the engine. “Didn’t you ask me to drive earlier, anyway?”

Ada groaned in response, shutting her eyes tightly before opening them again. “You know very well that was-“

Sy didn’t let her finish, the tires squealing on the tar as he sped out of the parking lot all too fast. Ada involuntarily cringed at the noise. “I’ll make you pay for this!”

“We’ll see, kitten. We’ll see.” He was entertaining by her determination even though her eyes were already closing.

As expected, Ada fell asleep within five minutes despite the handcuffs keeping her arms in an uncomfortable position. Her head lolled before it finally came to rest against the window. He watched her though the central mirror, an adoring look in his blue eyes as she sighed contently the very moment she had fallen asleep. While he had managed to rest while in the cell, though not as much as he had hoped, he knew Ada had been up all afternoon trying to sort everything out and get him out. Sy had noticed her exhaustion as soon as she started fumbling with the handcuffs, her movements uncharacteristically clumsy.

He stopped at a junk food drive thru on their way home – night had already fallen and he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He doubted she had either. Her eyes didn’t even flutter under the bright neon lights and once he parked the car on their driveway and went to carry her inside along with their food, after undoing the cuffs, her body was completely limp in his arms. It was only when he accidentally let her shoulder hit the doorframe as he tried to lead them inside their bedroom, that she woke up again. “Ouch!”

“Sorry,” Sy murmured and kissed her forehead before laying her down on the bed and setting down the bag on the mattress next to her. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air even as he helped her out of her coat and dress, and then the shoes. “Did you get us food?”

“Tenders and fries.”

Within an instant, she had ripped the bag open and was clutching the bucket of chicken to her chest, moaning as soon as she took a bite. He smiled knowingly at her– she had been hungry after all.

Hurriedly, Sy took off his clothes and slid in bed behind his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. They hadn’t slept together the previous night as they babysat the kids and he had missed the feel of her soft body against his. A content hum escaped him as his already partially hard cock nestled against the roundness of her ass.

Ada chuckled at his reaction, the vibrations of her body sending sparks of pleasure to his growing erection. “I have an idea,” she whispered, her voice becoming seductive again as she started rubbing herself against him.

Sy groaned deeply and tightened his grip on her waist, forcing her to still even though he was no longer sure for what he now hungered more; food or his wife. “We’re both hungry and exhausted,” he reasoned with her, his fingers moving some hair away from her neck so that he could kiss her there.

“Let me,” she insisted, a grin audible in her voice. Her hands disappeared under the bedsheets and she slid off her panties before retaking her initial position as the little spoon. Behind her, Sy groaned as her delicate fingers took hold of his cock, giving it a few pumps before guiding him inside her warmth. He muffled a soft moan against neck at the snug feeling of tight her walls, his arm tightening around her again. She let out a quiet gasp at the stretch, it hurt a little despite her still being sufficiently wet from when he had pushed her against the hood of the car. But once he was fully inside, Ada sighed at the pleasure of being again. “Now we can eat.”

°°°

There are two more chapters to go! Next chapter will include Christmas tree decorating. I am running behind on schedule so I cannot guarantee the last chapter will be posted by Christmas but I’ll do my best.

°°°

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1 @madbaddic7ed @coffeebreathy @purplelove75 @summersong69 @helenaellie

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader #syverson fluff #henry cavill fluff

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juniperarts · 4 years ago

Note

hi can i give hato a kiss and maybe draw him? i really,,, like him and wanna know more about him- he seems so cool ; ;

Anyone is more than welcome to draw Hato!

Just be sure to credit somewhere and let me know when it’s done.

I’d LOVE to see any fanart of my boy

As for more about him ... I’ll let y'all know what his personality is like below the cut (or not if you are on mobile because tumblr is trash)

___________________________________

Deep down he is pretty shy … he’s ambivert (leaning toward introvert) but he always keeps the appearance of a perky, likable, outgoing person. It’s only when he gets close with someone that he will mellow out some. (He’s like Hawks in a lot of ways … he can put on a front … but unlike Hawks it’s usually genuine and not for any underlying purpose.)

He’s bisexual and identifies as non-binary (considers himself gender nebulous but will leaning toward male some days, never female).

Can use he/him or they/them when referring to Hato.

(In highschool he could have been the popular kid/student or that smart, rich kid that hung out with troublemakers … or a combination of both.)

I also see Hato being that person that looks and acts like a model student but has a secret mischievous/naughty side. (this is reflected in his design somewhat).

I imagine his first appearance to others he got from Hawks and the mischievous side he gets from both … but especially Dabi.

For the most part he has good self control unless he is suddenly put into an uncomfortable situation … then he might act irrationally (fueled by childhood when he found out about hard truths of his parents … which greatly affected him).

He values truth and wants to be seen as a honest person (caused because his parents were never completely honest with him about important details growing up… such as Dabi being a villain and the one that burnt Hawks’ wings and face).

*Written by @fatally3103 .... Hato has a very developed emotional intelligence to be able to read either of his Dads, who regularly obfuscate and are very good liars (not that they would lie with any regularity to Hato, they both would err more on the side of "don't tell him certain stuff till he's X years old"), he'd have to be good at reading people. Both Dabi and Hawks lie as a matter of survival, and they would never want that for Hato.*

He wants to live his life as his true Self, walking in step with what he believes is right.

In terms of personality types I think he fits ENFP in many ways, but not completely.

Below are some aspects of it I think fit him:

He is constantly aware and somewhat fearful of losing touch with himself.

ENFPs almost always have a strong need to be liked. They are genuinely warm and interested in people, and place great importance on their interpersonal relationships … I think this fits Hato.

ENFPs sometimes make serious errors in judgment. They have an amazing ability to intuitively perceive the truth about a person or situation, but when they apply judgment to their perception, they may jump to the wrong conclusions.

They are perfectly capable of switching from a passionate, driven idealist to an imaginative and enthusiastic free spirit

They have a strong need to be independent, and resist being controlled or labelled. They need to maintain control over themselves, but they do not believe in controlling others. Their dislike of dependence and suppression extends to others as well as to themselves.

_____________________________________

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sweetcurry · 3 years ago

Text

Seibetsu "Mona Lisa" no Kimi e. (性別「モナリザ」の君へ) - Yoshimura Tsumuji

Genre - Drama, School Life, Romance

Read - volume 2 chapter 9 / volume 6 chapter 29 (7 volumes in the original)

Status - Ongoing

In this world, at the age of 12, children choose their sex. Hinase, on the eve of their 18th birthday, has yet to make a choice, and is still sexless. Regardless, they live a content life with their childhood friends Shiori(boy) and Ritsu(girl). But the "choice" is all Hinase can think about when suddenly both Shiori and Ritsu confess their love to them on the same day and request they become the opposite sex to them so they can have a relationship.

So I havent read most of this yet, I admit. But I have a lot of opinions. I think there could be so much more here in terms of world building and actual nonbinary rep. Like I have a hard time believing that any 12 year old is capable of making this decision independently. Shiori admits he chose to be a boy because that's what his brother did. So would there not just be a bunch of households with children of one gender? Or parental influence, like with Ritsu, she was really good at sports so her parents constantly bought her "boy" things and expected her to be a boy. But sike she actually wanted to be cute and chose to be a girl!

And thats where I have a problem with this. This world, where they author could have done ANYTHING, is still fundamental gendered like ours is and it defeats the point of any of the motivations of the characters. There's such a heavy reliance on gender roles in this (Shiori wanted to be cool like his brother, all the nurses at the hospital are women, Ritsu wanted to be cute so she became a girl) in a story where none of that is supposed to matter until you're 12. And then Hinase is seen as strange and is medically studied and will not live past 20 unless they choose. Also, Shiori's and Ritsu's insistence that Hinase must choose the sex that lets them be in a heterosexual relationship only is just. The author really limited themselves when they could have done anything! Not to mention Hinanse can't understand the romantic love their friends feel for them, which is not a nod to them being asexual, it's implying they are fundamentally wrong.

I don't know. Maybe some of my questions get answered and I just got hasty. But I feel like there could have been so much potential with this one. As a nonbinary person myself, I was excited to see one as a serious main character (albeit a child) where they're not just played as a pretty boy in a dress with the plot never addressing them personally aside from that. I was excited to see a nonbinary person live a normal life. I knew what I was getting into a bit, but the constant beating me over the head with "pick a side" is physically hurting me.

You know, I'm gonna keep reading this. I need the closure.

Overall

5/10

The art is nice.

#seibetsu mona lisa no kimi e #the gender of mona lisa

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eldritchw1tch · 4 years ago

Text

i don’t want you like a best friend: a tswift-pimms playlist

link

this is the pimms playlist i spent more than a year working on from like, 2018 to the end of 2019! as such, it only contains music up through lover, not anything from folklore or evermore. @permets-2 finally poked me into posting the liner notes, which I gave up on because tumblr formatting was fighting me, so please know i haven’t actually looked at them since 2019 and there might still be missing things? idk.

this playlist is absolutely dedicated to my beloved @faiasakura, who did her own version of an all-tswift pimms playlist completely independently (we actively avoided comparing notes, lol), which can be found here!

i don’t really go here lately but i hope this is of interest to someone!

Prologue

1. Don’t Blame Me (reputation)

for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

…

Lord save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

Act 1: The Q

2. Gorgeous (reputation)

a crush

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

…

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous

3. Treacherous (Red)

something magnetic, pulling them both in

And I'll do anything you say

If you say it with your hands

And I'd be smart to walk away

But you're quicksand

…

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive

And I will follow you, follow you home

4. Dress (reputation)

a shared and precious secret: love, desperate and messy and everything. But also: the scrutiny, the frenetic anxiety, the fear.

I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about—

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you

5. Tied Together With a Smile (Taylor Swift)

the pressure builds; jack’s anxiety gets worse

Hold on, baby you're losing it

The water's high, you're jumping into it

And letting go, and no one knows

That you cry, but you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one

And you're tied together with a smile

But you're coming undone

6. Long Live (Speak Now)

the glory, the playoffs, the memorial cup: the golden boys of hockey, on top of the world

Long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, long live all the magic we made

And bring on all the pretenders

One day, we will be remembered

…

Hold on, to spinning around

Confetti falls to the ground

May these memories break our fall

7. State of Grace (Red)

the 34 days, inside kent’s euphoria

This is a state of grace

This is the worthwhile fight

Love is a ruthless game

Unless you play it good and right

These are the hands of fate

You’re my Achilles heel

this is the golden age of something good and right and real

8. Cruel Summer (Lover)

(that golden season and its dark underbelly)

So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh)

And I scream, "For whatever it's worth

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

9. Haunted (Speak Now)

the overdose: kent finds jack on the bathroom floor

Whoa, holding my breath

Won't lose you again

Something's made your eyes go cold

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

You're all I wanted

10. I Know Places (1989)

kent in the waiting room, holding on hope

Something happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

…

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Not this time

Act 2: The Fallout

11. The Story of Us (Speak Now)

kent goes to the draft; jack won’t answer his calls

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room

And we're not speaking

And I'm dying to know

Is it killing you like it's killing me?

Yeah, and I don't know what to say

Since the twist of fate, when it all broke down

And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now

…

The battle's in your hands now

But I would lay my armor down

If you say you'd rather love than fight

12. Last Kiss (Speak Now)

jack and kent, the same realization from opposite sides

So I'll go sit on the floor

Wearing your clothes

All that I know is

I don't know how to be something you miss

I never thought we'd have a last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

13. Death By A Thousand Cuts (Lover)

Starting to live with the devastation and the broken heart

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

Flashbacks waking me up

I get drunk, but it's not enough

’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

’Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not

It's death by a thousand cuts

14. If This Was A Movie (Speak Now)

regrets and memories

Last night, I heard my own heart beating

Sounded like footsteps on my stairs

Six months gone and I'm still reaching

Even though I know you're not there

I was playing back a thousand memories, baby

Thinkin' 'bout everything we've been through

Maybe I've been going back too much lately

When time stood still and I had you

15. Cold as You (Taylor Swift)

the grief and pain become anger and bitterness

And when you take, you take the very best of me

So I start a fight cause I need to feel something

And you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted

…

You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray

And I stood there loving you and wished them all away

And you come away with a great little story

Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

Interlude 1: Jack

16. I Almost Do (Red)

kent doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does (but jack doesn’t either)

I bet you think I either moved on or hate you

‘Cause each time you reach out, there’s no reply

I bet it never, ever occurred to you

That I can’t say hello to you

And risk another goodbye

…

Oh, we made quite a mess, babe

It’s probably better off this way

And I confess, babe

In my dreams, you’re touching my face

And asking me if I want to try again with you

And I almost do

Act 3: Coming of Age in Vegas

17. New Romantics (1989)

vegas; teammates; living in the moment; drinking, dancing, and self-destructing

We're all here, the lights and boys are blinding

We hang back, it's all in the timing

It's poker

He can't see it in my face

But I'm about to play my Ace (ahh)

We need love, but all we want is danger

We team up, then switch sides like a record changer

The rumors are terrible and cruel

But honey, most of them are true

…

Heartbreak is the national anthem

We sing it proudly

We’re too busy dancing (yeah) to get knocked off our feet

Baby, we're the new romantics

The best people in life are free

18. Begin Again (Red)

kent starts to move on

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

19. The Way I Loved You (Fearless)

all the drinking and dancing and dating still feel empty and hollow; he just wants to feel again; he just wants that love back

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

It's 2 AM and I'm cursing your name

I'm so in love that I acted insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breaking down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kind of rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

…

He can't see the smile I'm faking

And my heart's not breaking

'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all

And you were wild and crazy

Just so frustrating

Intoxicating, complicated

20. The Lucky One (Red)

kent parson: the loneliest boy, so alone at the top of the world

You had it figured out since you were in school

Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool

So overnight, you look like a sixties queen

…

And they tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused

'Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used

And all the young things line up to take your place

—

Another name goes up in lights

You wonder if you’ll make it out alive

21. Come In With The Rain (Fearless)

(starting to move on is not the same as letting go)

I’ve watched you so long, screamed your name

I don’t know what else I can say

…

But I’ll leave my window open

'Cause I’m too tired at night to call your name

Just know I’m right here hoping

That you’ll come in with the rain

Act 4: Implosion

22. Out of the Woods (1989)

memories he can’t escape of a love like a car crash

The night we couldn't quite forget

When we decided, we decided

To move the furniture so we could dance

Baby, like we stood a chance

Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying

And I remember thinking

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?

…

You took a Polaroid of us

Then discovered (then discovered)

The rest of the world was black and white

But we were in screaming color

23. Red (Red)

Kent decides to go to epikegster

Loving him is like driving a new Maserati

Down a dead-end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin

Ending so suddenly

…

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head

In burning red

Loving him was red

24. The Last Time (Red)

didja miss me? (something tentative; something a little bit hopeful on both sides)

Find myself at your door

Just like all those times before

I’m not sure how I got there

All roads they lead me here

I imagine you are home

In your room, all alone

And you open your eyes into mine

And everything feels better

25. The Archer (Lover)

kent tries to extend an olive branch but it’s still covered in thorns

Combat, I'm ready for combat

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

…

I've been the archer, I've been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling

But who could stay?

…

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years

26. Bad Blood (1989)

jack’s answer to kent’s wounded lashing out

Oh, it's so sad to

Think about the good times

You and I

…

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood

You know it used to be mad love

So take a look what you've done

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

27. Breathe (Fearless)

kent, driving away from epikegster

I see your face in my mind as I drive away

'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way

People are people and sometimes we change our minds

But it's killing me to see you go after all this time

…

And we know it's never simple, never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

…

And I can't breathe without you, but I have to

Breathe without you but I have to

28. All Too Well (Red)

despite all the pain, there’s an irresistible nostalgia for what they had all those years ago—for when things were so much simpler

Maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

'Til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

Too well

…

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still trying to find it

Interlude 2: Kent

29. Fifteen (Fearless)

a memory, a reflection

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you

You're gonna believe them

And when you're fifteen and your first kiss

Makes your head spin 'round

But in your life you'll do things greater than

Dating the boy on the football team

But I didn't know it at fifteen

…

When all you wanted was to be wanted

Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday

But I realized some bigger dreams of mine

Act 5: Moving On, Growing Up

30. Clean (1989)

finally learning to be his own person, separate from that shared past

There was nothing left to do (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

When the butterflies turned to

Dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

…

The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud

But no one heard a thing

…

Rain came pouring down

When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean

31. 22 (Red)

friends and freedom, and real joy in that this time around

It feels like a perfect night

To dress up like hipsters

And make fun of our exes, uh-uh, uh-uh

It feels like a perfect night

For breakfast at midnight

To fall in love with strangers, uh-uh, uh-uh

…

Yeah

We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time

It's miserable and magical, oh, yeah

Tonight's the night when we forget about the deadlines

It's time, oh-oh

32. So It Goes… (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

'Cause we break down a little

But when you get me alone, it's so simple

'Cause baby, I know what you know

We can feel it

…

And all the pieces fall right into place

Getting caught up in a moment

Lipstick on your face

So it goes…

…

I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl, but I

Do bad things with you

So it goes…

33. Dancing With Our Hands Tied (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

I, I loved you in secret

First sight, yeah, we love without reason

Oh, twenty-five years old

Oh, how were you to know?

…

Could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I had a bad feeling

…

I'd kiss you as the lights went out

Swaying as the room burned down

I'd hold you as the water rushes in

If I could dance with you again

34. Wildest Dreams (1989)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

…

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah-aah, haa

34. Shake It Off (1989)

At the top of his game, at the top of his sport, and actually happy at long last

I never miss a beat

I'm lightning on my feet

And that's what they don’t see, mm, mm

…

But I keep cruisin'

Can't stop, won't stop groovin'

It's like I got this music in my mind

Saying it's gonna be alright

…

'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break

And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

35. Holy Ground (Red)

Remembering with enough distance and experience to appreciate what was, not ache from it

Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress

We had this big wide city all to ourselves

We blocked the noise with the sound of, "I need you"

And for the first time, I had something to lose

And I guess we fell apart in the usual way

And the story's got dust on every page

But sometimes, I wonder how you think about it now

And I see your face in every crowd

…

'Cause darling, it was good

Never looking down

And right there where we stood

Was holy ground

Act 6: Reunion

36. ME! (Lover)

reconnection, reconciliation, re-appreciation

I know I tend to make it about me

I know you never get just what you see

But I will never bore you, baby

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

…

'Cause one of these things is not like the others

Livin' in winter, I am your summer

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e

37. This Love (1989)

an unexpected reawakening

Tossing, turning

Struggled through the night with someone new

And I could go on and on, on and on

Lantern, burning

Flickered in my mind, only you

But you were still gone, gone, gone

…

Been losing grip, on sinking ships

You showed up just in time

…

This love is good, this love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead, oh-oh, oh

These hands had to let it go free, and

This love came back to me, oh-oh, oh

38. End Game (reputation) (ft. ed sheeran as jack)

After all this time, there are things they aren’t ever going to let go of again, no matter the trouble they bring

I got a bad boy persona, that's what they like (what they like)

You love it, I love it too 'cause you my type (You my type)

You hold me down, and I protect you with my life

…

I don't wanna touch you, I don't wanna be

Just another ex-love you don’t wanna see

I don’t wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you)

Like the other girls do

I don’t wanna hurt you, I just wanna be

Drinking on a beach with you all over me

I know what they all say (I know what they all say)

But I ain't tryna play

…

I wanna be your end game (End game)

I wanna be your first string (First string)

I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team)

I wanna be your end game, end game

39. You Are In Love (1989)

something real; something sacred; something to build a life on

You can hear it in the silence (silence), silence (silence), you

You can feel it on the way home (way home), way home (way home), you

You can see it with the lights out (lights out), lights out (lights out)

You are in love, true love

You are in love

…

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night, he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says "You're my best friend"

And you knew what it was, he is in love

40. Change (Fearless)

when the two biggest hockey players of their generation come out of the closet—together—are in love with each other—it changes more lives than just theirs

So we've been outnumbered, raided, and now cornered

It's hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found

They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared

You can walk away, say we don't need this

But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this

…

'Cause these things will change

Can you feel it now?

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down

This revolution, the time will come

For us to finally win

And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah

Oh, oh

41. Call It What You Want (reputation)

When it stops mattering what anyone else thinks

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressing up as kings

They fade to nothing when I look at him

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn

At least I did one thing right

I did one thing right

I'm laughing with my lover, makin' forts under covers

Trust him like a brother

Yeah, you know I did one thing right

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

…

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I'm the one he's walking to

So call it what you want, yeah

Call it what you want to

42. Lover (Lover)

love

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

…

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Forever and ever, ah

Take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

43. New Year’s Day (reputation)

love

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi

I can tell that it's gonna be a long road

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

…

Don't read the last page

But I stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we're making mistakes

I want your midnights

But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

44. Daylight (Lover)

Building a new life in the daylight

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

I'll tell you truth, but never goodbye

…

I once believed love would be (burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight

…

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

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darthspideys · 4 years ago

Text

antithesis // two

din djarin x jedi! reader

summary: You expected to find another of yoda’s species, much less under the protection of a particularly stubborn mandalorian. Little do you know its that discovery that will change life as you know it, and put all three of you in danger you never saw coming.

words: ~2k

a/n: so I had to repost this because I deleted the orginal version which prevents you from reading any of the other versions I reblogged.. I’m an idiot

disclaimer: I h8 baby yoda and it

“Depends on the day,” You shrug, careful not to accidentally jam the lightsaber into his throat. “But you’ve heard of me. Good things I hope.” You know that if he does know anything about Jedi it’s probably not good things, what with the history between Mandalorians and Jedi. However you have a sneaking suspicion that he doesn’t know all that much, because he didn't try and kill you upon realizing that you were a jedi, and he seems to be afraid of the lightsaber.

He tilts his head to the side. “The sorcerer's part was right,” He says under his breath.

You hear him and you move the lightsaber a little bit just to make him nervous, “Huh?” You move it again. “Can you speak up? Say that again maybe? I couldn't quite hear it.”

“I was told that you were a race of enemy sorcerers.”

Jackpot. “Enemy? Sounds familiar, though the last time I was called an enemy was by the Empire. You don’t work for them, do you Mando? I thought they got rid of the Mandalorians when they got too independent for the Empire’s liking.” He almost makes a move forward, and you know you’ve hit a pressure point. It’s a bit of a low blow, but you’re still mad that he got all that sand in your hair. “Unless they left you specifically, I’m going to need a bit more elaboration.”

He huffs, and it’s a bit childlike for a man of his stature, “A fellow Mandalorian. There was a war between Mandalorians and Jedi, and you destroyed our world. You scorched it to ash, leaving us standing in the remains.”

You don’t even pay attention to the last half of what he’s saying because you’re so fixated on the first sentence, there are Mandalorians that are left. You haven’t let yourself think that there could be more left, not even one. What the empire did to Mandalore, was worse than what the Jedi did, more worse than anyone could have imagined and you didn’t think that anyone could have survived that. You almost smile because you realize how crazy that was now, Mandalorians have survived worse, and they always manage to survive somehow. “What clan are you-”

Before he can answer the lightsaber flies out of your hands and almost kills you (it doesn’t seem intentinal but if you hadn’t ducked then it would’ve ended up stabbing you somewhere or taking your head clean off). You duck to the ground, unsure of what could’ve caused that, and turn around to see the child staring at you with a cold look in it’s eyes. You would never admit it aloud, but that thing scared you in that moment. Something about the fact that it could’ve easily killed you and the mandalorian would’ve had to hide your body, and the way it’s looking at you now like it hasn’t decided if it’s going to kill you yet.

Despite that, you try and intimidate it into submission. You narrow your eyes, “Little fucking baby-”

Before you can finish the Mandalorian extends his hand to you, and you take it cautiously. He helps you up, then turns to the baby again, bending down so that he’s closer to it’s height. “Don’t do that,” He says with all the severity of a parent who just caught their child breaking things in the kitchen, “We’ve talked about this.”

You stifle a laugh, and bend down next to him. “He’s a baby, even if he could understand you he wouldn’t listen,” You tell him.

“He’s fifty years old.”

You try to keep your jaw from dropping to the floor, “Excuse me?”

“They told me he was fifty years old.”

“That thing is-?” You sigh, “Of course it is, I don’t know why I’m even surprised at this point.” You look the child in the eyes again, “Well then since your fifty you little fucking baby, I woulnd’t try any of that again because you won’t like what happens when I’m angry.”

The Mandalorian looks at you and you wish that you could see the look on his face.

“He controls his power when he wants to, doesn’t he?” You take the silence as a resounding yes. “You have to know that people have noticed, I mean if I’ve noticed that means that he is a beacon to those who want to use his power for things that would give you nightmares. You mentioned how the jedi scorched Mandalore? What you have in your hands is a baby jedi.” He holds the child a little bit tighter in his arms. You narrow your eyes, “But you already know all of this don’t you?”

He lets his guard down just a little, “I found him working a bounty for the empire. They are very interested in retrieving him again.”

Your face falls, well that definitely does not make this any easier. You add to your mental list of things that have gone wrong today: the empire is back because of course they are. It wasn’t a thought that had crossed your mind, at least not in the last few years, both parties had signed the disarmament treaties and no one had heard anything from any of the empire remnants that were left. You all assumed that you wouldn't because none of them really had any structure, they were just groups of people clinging to the machine they had spent their lives building, but nothing had come of it. Correction, nothing had come of it yet, now it seemed there was a remnant trying to make a power grab of some kid though you're not sure how they gained the location of a child even Luke didn’t know existed until now.

You get up onto your feet finally, then try and breathe for a second. “What do you mean by ‘the empire’?”

“What do you think I mean?”

You call the lightsaber back to your hand, and ignite it at your side. “Answer the question,” A pause, “Please?”

“Moff Gideon, he said he was. I thought it was a small group at first, a man, a scientist and a few stormtroopers but when I didn’t return the child to them there were a lot more.”

“Sounds like them,” You say, starting to pace the floor a little bit to think. “So you decided to hide out on Tatooine because you know no one in their right mind would come to this planet, much less out into this desert.”

“Except you,” He says, like it's an accusation.

You give him a pained smile, “I’m special, remember?” You’re beginning to get tired of this, waiting for the empire to show up every second. You don’t know if you should tell him that they will show up eventually, because they never give up, that is the one thing about them that everyone knows. They will find what they want and they will take it unless someone stops them, you’re not sure if he could stop them.

“What do you want?” He asks, finally. You feel like you’ve been here so long that even you forgot what you’d originally come for.

“Him,” You say, gesturing to the child. “There’s not a lot else here.”

“No.”

You roll your eyes, “Don’t be like that Mando, you don’t know how to handle him. You didn’t even know what he was until I came here and told you. This is not your battle.”

He’s angry, and it comes off of him in steady waves, more powerful as the seconds draw on. “And it’s yours?” It’s confrontational, and you know he’s only saying it because he’s angry, which he is because he’s clearly very attached to the small yoda, child… thing?

“It is,” You say, trying very hard not to provoke him any further. “I know what it’s like to have his powers, I know what he’s up against, I know the people who are after him and what they're capable of.” You pause, “It’s in his best interest to have him come with me.”

“I don’t even know you, I don’t know who you are besides someone who has tried to kill me twice in the past hour.”

You huff, “I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was trying to keep you from killing me.” You pause, a little more indignant, “I know your scared of me, that’s okay, a lot of people are, but I came all the way out here-”

“I’m not afraid of you,” He tells you, “But you’re not taking him.”

You leave after he says that. Not because you're giving up, but because you need a break. You need a second because you can feel yourself ready to boil over with frustration, and anger which is something that you don’t want even him to see. You head back to your ship, to try and cool off and think of some kind of plan.

When you're inside, you turn on your communicator and a hologram of Luke appears. He’s smiling which makes you want to punch him in his stupid perfect teeth because of the morning you’ve had. “How are things going?” He asks.

“Absolutely terrible thank you for asking,” You snap back suddenly very angry that he’s not here with you. “There’s a child of yoda's species and that’s what’s causing the disturbance. There are empire remnants after it, apparently.”

“How large?” His surprise mirrors that of yours when you first heard about it.

“Large, there was an attack where they almost leveled a bar trying to get the asset back. I saw it on my way in, but I didn’t know what caused it until I talked to the Mandalorian.”

“The mandalorian?” He sees you nod and his expression turns into something else, “Are you okay? With that I mean.”

You face flushes but you know he can't see it, “It’s fine. I’m at an impasse here, I don’t know what to do, he won’t let the child come with me because he doesn’t trust me.”

“How did you approach him?” Luke asks you and you know where he’s trying to get with that.

“He attacked me first,” You cross your arms over your chest defensively.

He sighs, “You fought a Mandalorian.”

You roll your eyes, “Stop sounding so disappointed in me. You don’t know them like I do, they only respond to aggression at first and then you might be able to have a conversation.” He’s hiding a smile you can tell, “We’ve had this conversation before, I think we had this conversation when we first met.”

“You remember the first time we met very differently than I do.”

“I remember a lot of things differently than you do,” You smile back.

Suddenly you hear a noise, and the hair on the back of your neck stands up again signaling that something is coming. You turn around to try and see out into the desert, completely disregarding whatever Luke is saying. That’s when you see it, speeder bikes heading right for you, with stormtroopers piloting them.

“You have got to be screwing with me,” You growl looking out into the distance.

“Hey,” Luke says softly, “Calm down, what’s wrong?”

“Speaking of the empire? There here.”

His face falls, “Okay, okay.” He starts pacing and suddenly he’s the Luke you met on Dagobah all those years ago, the one who was still reckless and stubborn and headstrong just like you are now. Before he found out Vader was his father, before he went to finish his training with Master Yoda something about those two events changed him a little. Deep down he’s still that kid with eyes locked on the horizon, that you know for sure. But over the past few years he’s mellowed a bit, been able to think about the problem before running right at it. You on the other hand, hadn’t quite learned that lesson yet, and you’re about to show it off. “I’m going to talk to Leia, and we’re going to send reinforcements-“

“The senate is not going to send troops here, Luke, you know that,” You say, peering over your cockpit window to try and get a better look.

“They will,” His voice is firm, “I’m going to make sure that they do.”

You look him in the eyes, hoping that he can’t feel the fear that you have from all those light years away. “Okay.”

“I’m coming,” He says, his eyes never leaving yours. It’s one of those things where he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know what he means. He means that he’ll do whatever it takes, he will plow down anyone in his path, and deep down that’s who Luke Skywalker is loyal until the end. “I’m coming okay? Just hold on.”

You smile a little, trying to make him worry less, “I can handle it.”

“I know.”

“I have to go, but I’ll see you okay?”

You don’t even wait for his response because they're too close. You abruptly shut off the communicator and run off the ship, hoping that the troops won’t see it but knowing that they’ll see you before you can get back to the structure. I have a bad feeling about this.

#din dijarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian series #antithesis series #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic

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