#its another choose your own cock adventure
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choose your own smut adventure. part two – matty healy
start.
“Can we just—” You chuckle, shaking your head. “Can we ease into it? It’s been a while.”
Matty kisses your cheek. “Of course, love.”
He grabs your waist, puppeteering you over his lap in an easy show of force. Settled, you feel him hard under you, a gasp sprouting out of your lips at the realization. Electricity runs through you like a current, excitement following in its suit. You whimper, clutching his jaw like a desperate woman.
His hands descend from your shirt, dipping into the back pockets of your jeans. You shiver as need throbs inside of you. How easily he affects you, how grandly. You’re almost scared of what will happen to you once Matty actually touches you. If maybe you’ll lose your mind, caught somewhere between his lips and his hands. If you’ll never be the same.
Bending into his face and catching his parted lips again, you’re half-thinking that you shouldn’t do this. It’s your friend, for once. Will you be able to look him in your eyes once you’ve seen him naked? Once he’s made you come, his name sticky with want dripping from your lips?
And what if it’s never the same. What if no man raises your temperature like this, leaves you moaning and soaking your underwear with a mere kiss— because no one has before. What if by trying to learn, you ruin yourself.
Matty breaks the kiss, staring at you with dented eyebrows. He rubs his thumbs in an effort to be comforting, but it mostly makes your belly flutter dangerously. “I can hear you thinking in that head of yours.”
“It’s what it does,” you answer jokingly, trying to brush away his concerns.
Though the effort is pointless. Matty only frowns further, climbing your hands up back to your waist, like maybe the adventurous touch was the problem. A strike of fear takes you; you don’t want him to leave.
You grab his hands, pushing them back home, sitting closer to him. Accidentally, your hips roll onto his hard cock; you roll your eyes in answer, moaning. The stitches of your jeans hit your clit just right, making heat swirl in your belly. “Fuck,” you say, frowning at the overwhelming feeling, grinding again to make sure it’s not a fluke. It’s not: delicious pleasure waves through you.
Matty’s hands clutch your ass, a low groan leaving him. You open your eyes, staring into those dark pupils. He seems conflicted, watching you like he wants to do more but stops himself. You pant in his mouth, climbing your fingers up his flexed arms, making him shiver in their wake. You settle on his shoulders. Hesitantly, you do another tentative roll. This time, Matty whines, sitting back on the wall.
Power surges up your spine. You grin at him, grinding into him with a renewed passion, seeing the way pleasure blooms across his face. Sharper, more regularly, though there’s still an awkward sloppiness to your attempts. An excited giggle slips your lips. You try and try, listening only to the resonating bliss.
Matty climbs up your hips, gripping them as he takes control of your moves. He presses you down his lap, making you feel his hard cock, raking you across it again and again. It’s more deliberate, more knowledgeable, and soon you feel prickles of euphoria tingle up your legs. Your nails dig into his shoulders. You fall into his neck with a moan.
“That’s it,” Matty praises in the crook of your ear. He sucks the lobe, then bites it gently. His hands are relentless; you hump him, heat spreading through your limbs. A cry falls out of your mouth, pouring down his neck. “Does that feel good?” He pants. You nod frantically.
Though you can’t see, you can feel the sharp, smug grin on his face. His hold is brutal on your hips as he makes you go faster, relishing in the sounds you make for him. “There you go,” he adds, climbing his hands upwards, letting you in full control of your amateur hip rolls.
You follow his rhythm, making sure to hit your bundle of nerves each time you rock on his lap. You gain confidence, quickening your grinds to feel the tension build. Your lips part with another pathetic moan; you bite at his neck instead, gently sucking it. Matty groans your name, finding your clothed breasts and clutching them between two eager hands. It sends sharp pleasure down your back.
You fuck yourself onto him, quick and messy, mindless except for the feelings he coaxes out of you. Clothes are the great barriers between you; though need grows inside of you, relief seems to hide itself further and further away. You huff frustratingly, needing more.
You straighten out of his neck, staring at him.
#and they said she couldn’t keep an updating schedule#choose your own smut adventure#matty healy smut#matty healy imagine#matty healy x reader#matty healy#the 1975 smut#smut#imagine#writing
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BTS Makne Line's
Panty Competition
(A "Choose Your Own Adventure" fic)
Taehyung's Version
warnings: smut (18+), cunnilingus, some pining, lingerie, breastplay, fluff, explicit language, unprotected sex*(don't do this), creampie
wordcount: 2.8K (including intro)
INTRO AND MASTERLIST (PLEASE read first).
"I'm gonna go help Tae!" you chirp.
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. "Taehyung can't pull you," he rebuts. You can't help but think it's slightly out of jealousy.
"What do you mean? He's smoking hot and I've had the fattest crush on him ever since that cruise we all took as freshmen…" you reminisce.
Taehyung was once the scrawny guy from your science class who was always losing his folders and asked to borrow your paper every now and then during tests.
Ever since he joined the swim team, though, he's gotten toned and all of the sudden he started growing his hair out a little. His jaw has gotten more defined and you can tell he's grown into himself really well. He's older now, more mature, and that's exactly what you need.
"Whatever. You have his number," Jungkook scoffs. "I'll win this thing, so you'll be doing this for nothing!"
"We'll see about that!" You shout back as you close the door to your room to get ready. A matching set is essential for such an occasion. Finally, an opportunity to wear the gorgeous emerald green lingerie you bought as a graduation gift to yourself.
It might be a little immature to get excited about something as superficial as fucking your silly college crush, but who cares?
You have to actually call him up first.
Damn.
You sit down with your whole set on underneath your one pair of college sweatpants and a cute solid color long sleeve and dial him up on your phone.
He picks up after three rings. "Hey, what's up?" Taehyung answers.
"So I hear you're having a little contest with the guys, huh?"
"...who the fuck told you?"
– You can't help but smirk.
Tae interrupts you. "Wait why the fuck are you calling me about it?!"
He actually allows you to explain this time, his arms crossed as he's standing in line at the convenience store. On the counter in front of him are a pack of condoms, a pack of gum, and a disposable pen. A cashier is eavesdropping on the conversation, but Taehyung doesn't give two shits about it.
"Well, duh…" you pout. "I wanna help you win."
"...You do?" He hesitates, keeping his eyes down. The cashier urges him to remove his card, trying to get his attention.
"Yeah, can you do that for me?" You respond, seductively.
"Definitely," he replies. The cashier rolls her eyes, swinging the card reader around and removing the card for him. She hands him the bag and shoos him from the front counter.
"Great. Let's meet at your place tonight. Nine o'clock. I'll bring dinner," you tease.
"No, I'll bring dinner. Just bring your ass," he insists.
"Will do," you flirt.
You proceed to scream into your pillow for the next five to ten minutes. Although, you really should be saving your voice…so you can scream into his pillows.
While you wait, you make yourself some tea and sit with your legs crossed on the bed with your laptop, casually switching between socials and binging whatever show is on. When the digital clock hits about seven fifteen, you consider showering.
God, this is refreshing. You honestly haven't had a reason to take care of yourself this good for a while, so you're making it worth it. The steam of the shower floats around you like a cloud, surrounding you in its humid warmth. It can't get any better than this.
After making sure you're clean and ready, you check yourself one more time in the mirror and smile. There she is. Beautiful. Sexy.
Your phone dings. It's a voice recording!
"Alright so, if you don't know where I live, I'm like…five minutes from campus near the bridge…area? Like,,"
Taehyung smacks his teeth and sends another recording.
"Just come out close to the Starbucks and you'll see me there. I promise I will fight off…any headass who is dumb enough to fuck with you."
He's kinda sweet.
With a little bit of a struggle, you put your fit back on and walk out the door of your room after turning everything off. You unhook your set of keys from the key hanger and stuff them in your pocket, heading for the Starbucks on campus.
Taehyung stands tall in his grey sweats and a cozy jacket, with his hair curling outside of the hood. He's carrying a tote bag under his arm from the metropolitan museum of art, and his hands are stuffed into his pockets.
He gives you a line smile, but his eyes say it all. He's happy to see you.
Without a word, you approach him and put your arms around him in a relaxed hug. "Hey, Tete," you sigh.
"Hey, y/n. Are you okay?" He asks, his fingers carefully swirling on your back. "You wanna do this?"
"Yes~ I'm just glad you're here," you assure him, looking up at him from his chest. He smells so calming.
Taehyung lathers himself in a lavender moisturizer after he showers, so he always smells soothing. He puts his large hands on your head and caresses you. "Come on up. I got us Chinese."
You eat with your legs crossed on the coffee table, and he makes you a plate out of all of the side dishes he got. The whole time, he's asking you questions. It's almost like an interrogation. He wants to know what prompted you to come help him out.
"What am I supposed to say? I just…wouldn't mind it I guess," that's an understatement and it does not throw Taehyung off your scent at all.
"Gee, so my long-term colleague and friend of five years tells me she wants to help me win a stupid bet between me and the guys just because she really wouldn't mind it," Taehyung laughs. "Yeah, that's super believable, Y/N."
He picks up a spring roll with his chopsticks and dips it in the peanut dipping sauce. "But…whatever. I won't push," he shrugs it off.
A quiet and comfortable silence builds, the crunching of Taehyung's eating the only sound in the room. You begin eating with him, observing his small mannerisms and habits.
He pauses his eating and glances up at you. "You're giving me those eyes again," he says. "You're so obvious."
You are, it's true. Who wouldn't be?
"Just admiring," you reply, smally.
"Just admiring?" he echoes, entertained.
Taehyung puts his eating utensils down and places his hands on his thighs, inhaling deeply. "Mmm, the rest is yours. Take it back to your place after."
"Okay," you comply.
Then, he gradually reaches out his hand across the table and weaves his fingers between yours. "Do you wanna go have sex?"
You bite your lip. He's so straightforward. Flustered, you nod.
"I'll take good care of you," he reminds you. You know he will.
Taehyung briefly kisses the back of your hand before rising from the floor and walking into another room.
Curiously, you go looking for him again. He isn't in his room, and the bathroom light is on, so he must be there.
Taehyung's room is just like any other guy's. It looks like he actually put some effort into making his bed and cleaning things up a little before you came, though. The only discrepancy was that his bed was open, but it looked intentional. It was invitational.
"Oh! Hey," Taehyung greets from behind you. He sets down a box of things, like a kit, on the bedside table. His hands meet your waist, his palms smoothing over your midsection.
"Tae," you sigh into his touch. He replies by pulling you closer and, in a tangent, kissing your neck. The vibration of his voice buzzes on your skin as you allow him to undress you piece by piece.
His slender fingers dip beneath the fabric of your clothes to reveal your skin to him. He needs to access you. His eyes land on the intricate fabric of your lingerie causing him to shiver.
"You wore this for me?" he asks, in quiet delight.
"Yeahh," you whimper subtly.
"You smell so good too, mm…" he buries his face into the crook of your neck as his hands admire the complex pattern of the lace against your skin. "Fuckk," he groans as he absorbs more of your body.
"Let's help each other feel good. Please," he speaks next to your ear, his hands cupping your breasts and squeezing them with care. "You know how much the both of us have been wanting each other."
"God, I want to give in to you so bad," you reply as your mind indulges in fantasies you've played over and over in your head before this. "Have your way with me, I trust you with my body."
You feel Taehyung's lips curl into a smirk against your skin. "You're so easy for me…"
The way he held your body was as if he would never let go. His arms and his legs entrapped you on his bed and under his control you felt liberated from your own inhibitions.
His thighs flexed under you as his fingers twisted themselves in the lace of your panties and pulled them casually to the side. He hisses when he fingers you languidly, the thought of fucking your tight pussy a catalyst for his wildest fantasies.
"Tae," you whine, holding on to the seam of his pants as he deliberately kisses between your breasts. Your hands weave through his beautiful curls, feeling like silk between your fingers. "Ohh~" you sigh.
He trails down your body, feeling your sides and making love to every sliver of skin before arriving at your abdomen and kneading your thighs. Without a moment of hesitation, Taehyung splits your thighs and lays his fat tongue on your slit.
You groan softly, lifting your hips toward him. The warm muscle spreads itself on your cunt and then sharpens, swirling around your clitoris before his lips close around it.
He sucks lewdly, his throat buzzing with baritone moans as he tastes you. Taehyung reaches his tongue into your entrance and thrusts teasingly.
Your breath quickens as you tense underneath him, vulgar noises escaping your lips in the form of stringy whines as you melt for him. "Ohhh please," you beg.
Taehyung only smirks and continues kissing and sucking at your throbbing cunt. He brings his slender fingers to your entrance and gathers a fair amount of your arousal before pushing in carefully. His eyebrows furrow in concentration.
You want to give him all of you, so you let him know just how good he's making you feel. "Taehyung, that's good,," you cry, feeling yourself pulse around his twisting fingers. "Fuck that's good, please don't stop touching me,"
He rolls his eyes in pleasure, readjusting your hips so that he can deepen his thrusts.
He's so hard from eating you that he's practically humping the mattress beneath him. Taehyung is incredibly desperate to get inside of your sweet cunt and it's driving him insane.
"Fuck! Fuck,, oh fuck," you gasp, sharply. A deep, binding pressure builds inside of you, fueled by the obscene sensation of your college crush eating your pussy.
He points his tongue and teases your clit one more time before removing your thighs from his shoulders and rising up to kiss you.
"You're cumming around my cock, so don't even think about it, " he warns. "You're gonna cover my cock in your pretty cum."
"Yes please," you breathe, pulling down his pants and kicking off your panties in one swift movement. You connect his hips to your cunt and start grinding yourself on his veiny shaft.
In a rush of heated and intimate kisses, he squeezes and plays with your breasts, releasing them from their pretty constraints and holding them in his delicate hands. "Ohh~" you pout, your eyes briefly meeting his as he carefully pinches around your nipple.
Your fingers find the shell of his ear and lovingly stroke it with your thumb, a gentle touch to remind him of your intentions.
It's hard to keep a good conscience when his dick is pulsing against your needy cunt.
He's so thick you can barely comprehend it when he splits you. Taehyung easily reaches your cervix, and with how wet you are, he glides in smoothly.
With how consumed you are with one another you cannot tell where your body stops and his begins. You wind around him and breathe his air as he moves his hips in slow circles inside of you.
"I want you to cum deep inside of me, Tae," you whimper. "You stretch me so good,"
"Let me stretch you better." Taehyung steals your lips and pulls you flush against him as he accelerates his pace. His hands force your thighs around him as he pounds into you, each dizzying thrust sending chills through your body.
Your hands splay across his chest and move to his back, scratching him out of pure euphoria. His fingers are eagerly stimulating your bud as he pecks sweet kisses under your neck.
"...pound this pussy like it's been craving me for the entire semester, huh? It's mine, isn't it, Y/N? The fuck you've been craving from me?"
"Yes~ so good, so…fucking good mmm," you blissfully reply.
He pins you to the mattress and fucks you shamelessly, driving his cock into your cervix as he encourages you to cream around him. He smiles at you maliciously and snaps his hips up in relentless yet powerful thrusts. They shake the bed, causing a definite rhythm as you squeeze your legs around him, tensing your whole body before creaming on his thick cock.
His eyes widen and he staggers, a thick load of cum coating your cunt. Taehyung pants into a cheeky smile. He brings his palms to your face and holds you, planting a few chaste kisses on your lips before leaning back and sighing.
He spots half of your emerald lingerie on the floor and reaches to pick it up while still inside you. With careful hands, he folds them and places them to the side.
You cringe a bit when he pulls out of you, your pussy dripping with his cum.
"Oh–" Taehyung quietly swipes a glob of it from under you. "That's…really sexy," he mumbles.
"It's good," you laugh.
"Let's uhm…hop in together?" You nod your head towards the bathroom.
He complies after a few pouty kisses, carrying you swiftly over to the shower.
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#taehyung smut#taehyung x reader smut#taehyung x reader#taehyung fluff#taehyung x reader fluff#bts smut#bts fluff#taehyung#taehyung hot#taehyung college au#bts fic#taehyung ftl#taehyung friends to lovers#bts au#bts fanfic#taehyung fanfic#taehyung fic#taehyung smut fic#taehyung fluff fic
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NSFW Alphabet
Mason Mount
A - aftercare You’d be lying if you said that this wasn’t sometimes your favourite part about having sex, something about how soft and caring Mason becomes once the two of you have reached your highs just making you feel like the only girl in the world, and don’t get me wrong, he looks after you in the best possible way when you’re doing the business, but he’s just so much more attentive afterwards and he’s happy to kiss, cuddle and play with your hair as long as you need him to
B - body part Your ass, god he’s got an obsession with it, always catching him licking his lips whenever you wear *those* gym leggings or a tiny pair of shorts, and it’s got to the point where it feels weird not to have his hand glued to it twenty-four-seven
C - cum At the start of your relationship you were super strict about Mason wearing a condom, so it’s only recently that you’ve started to be a bit more adventurous when it comes to your orgasms, letting him try out all kinds of different things to see which you both prefer, whether that’s cumming on your ass, your your tits, in your mouth or inside your pussy, you’re still trying to figure that your one out, but it’s honestly the hottest thing knowing that at least one part of your body is decorated with his seed
D - dirty secret You’ve recently discovered the world of sexting, and it’s quite possibly your favourite thing, loving how you can pass your thumbs tapping away on your screen as ‘oh I’m just messaging my boyfriend’, when actually you’re begging him to be balls deep inside of you tonight whilst he fucks your pussy raw
E - exposed Not to jinx it but you haven’t been caught yet, there was one time where his mum came home from work early and you were face down on the mattress whilst Mason fucked you from behind, but that’s as close as it’s got, and fingers crossed it stays that way
F - foreplay Again, it’s something that’s taken time for the two of you to get into the swing of doing, but now it’s become an essential part of your sex lives, sometimes not even bothering to do the actual deed and instead just letting Mason eat you out whilst you suck his dick, loving how the other person can bring you so much pleasure in the most incredible ways
G - goofy At the start of your relationship there were a couple of times when you ended up in a fit of giggles, mainly because you were both worried incase you got ‘too’ into it and the other person wasn’t ready, but now you’re so much more comfortable around one another that it’s rare that you have outbursts of random giggles anymore
H - horny Mason finds it hard not to be when you’re his girlfriend, always wandering around with a boner because you look so good all the time, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye each time you come down wearing a tiny top or a little pair of shorts in the hope that you catch on to what he’s thinking
I - intimacy It’s such an important part of your relationship, taking you a little while to feel completely comfortable around one another but now you’re both so close, both emotionally and sexually, which obviously helps when it comes to the bedroom
J - jack off Normally he tries to keep himself under control, especially since he knows that his hand has nothing on yours, but there have obviously been times when he’s been caught out and he just has to relieve some of his tension, sometimes struggling to keep himself sane when you’re busy spamming him with messages explaining how you’ll be sucking him off later
K - kinks Mason’s got the biggest praise kink, loving how he thrusts deeper into your pussy or groans in your ear each time you call him your good boy, finding it so hot that those kinds of compliments just roll of your tongue without you even thinking, his brain fogging over with pure pleasure each time and causing his cock to almost explode
L - location You usually stick to the bedroom, obviously there have been occasions where you’ve had sex on the sofa halfway through a movie or let him bend you over the kitchen whilst you’re making dinner, but you much prefer to keep it under the covers
M - moaning That boy knows what he’s doing so it’s practically impossible for you to hold back your moans, always turning into a complete whimpering mess for him when he’s slamming into you, and Mason’s just the same, always grunting and groaning in your ear with each thrust because you make him feel so good
N - nudes You’ve both sent and received a fair few, Mason always choosing to pass his over when you’re out for lunch with your friends or sat at work, a series of photos of his rock solid cock appearing on your screen and causing the most furious blush to sweep across your cheeks, Mason finding it hilarious how you’ll get so turned on in an environment where you can’t do anything about it, only giving you a reason to punish him when you’re home
O - oral His favourite thing in the whole wide world is seeing you knelt before him with his cock in your mouth, fucking your face for hours on end just so that he can hear you gagging and spluttering around him, your eyes streaming with tears and rolling back into your head as his cock hits the back of your throat
P - position Mason’s got two favourites - doggy and missionary, his choice of position depends on the mood that he’s in, opting for doggy if he wants to be a bit rough and reach his orgasm quickly, but choosing missionary when he wants to be a bit more intimate with you, loving how he can be so much closer to you and how you can feel his thrusts so much deeper
Q - quickie You both prefer longer sex sessions but obviously when the seconds are counting down on the clock then you’re making the most of the time that you have together, letting Mase fuck you at the most ridiculous speed before he needs to go to training or before you’re about to head out for dinner with your mates, loving how you can go about your day afterwards as though you haven’t just had your brains blown out, nobody knowing what you’ve been up to other than you two
R - risk You’re not the biggest risk takers to be honest, preferring to keep your sex life exclusively between the two of you rather than sharing it with a whole car park or holiday complex, but saying that, you have let Mason fuck you on the balcony in the early hours of the morning and you’ve also sucked him off in one of the back rooms at Stamford Bridge, yet other than that it’s pretty much safe sex in the company of just you and Mase
S - spit/swallow Swallow, always, why would you want to waste the aftermath of all of your hard work? Mason finding it the hottest thing ever that you don’t even have to contemplate your next move when he cums in your mouth, giving him your best innocent eyes or a little wink before you’re swallowing it down without any hesitation
T - toys You’ve got a vibrator that occasionally makes an appearance when you feel like you’re missing something in the bedroom, but nine times out of ten, you just let Mason do the work, his cock hitting all of the places that no toy could and his fingers rubbing your clit in a way that feels so good that you can’t even compare it to a vibrator, both of you preferring to be the people that bring each other pleasure, rather than letting a toy do the work
U - unfair Never ever ever, Mason’s honestly the sweetest person when it comes to sex so he’ll never cum before you, and even if he’s desperate to reach his orgasm, then he’ll try and hold off until your pussy is spasming around his cock first, hating seeing you begging and whining for him to let you cum so he’s always making sure that your needs are met well before his own
V - volume You can be prettyyy loud, which isn’t really hard when Mason fucks you so well, loving how you can scream his name as loudly as you want when it’s just you and him, your moans bouncing off the walls and echoing in his ears for hours afterwards, honestly finding your whines and whimpers so fucking sexy, especially since he knows he’s the only one making you feel that way
W - wild card Mason’s recently invested in a Polaroid camera to try and capture some of your best memories together, and somehow it’s managed to make its way into the bedroom too, resting on his bedside table until the perfect photo opportunity arises, taking a few snaps and hiding them away ready to look at when you need a bit of inspiration
X - x-ray It’s a good size, a veryyy good size, well and truly filling you up and managing to hit all of the right places, so you definitely aren’t complaining, even if it does sometimes take you a while to adjust to his length, much to Mason’s satisfaction
Y - yearning He’s always in the mood to fuck you, I mean, who wouldn’t be when they’ve got such a pretty girl as their partner? Always catching him staring at your ass or letting his mind run free when his gaze brushes over your tits, but you don’t mind, because secretly you’re doing exactly the same to him
Z - zzz It’s hard not to fall asleep after sex, particularly your longer sessions, and regardless of whether it’s emotion-based or rough, it’s still wearing you both out and you can’t help but collapse in each other’s arms and drift off into a deep sleep afterwards, staying in the same position until the sun starts rising and you’re woken up to the memories of last night
#mason mount#mason mount blurb#mason mount imagine#mason mount smut#trent alexander arnold#dominic calvert lewin#jadon sancho#jack grealish
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I got your Back
Pairing: (DragonBat!)Daniela Dimitrescu x (Fem!)Reader
Summary: One walk out in the woods would change your life. One encounter with a Royal Dragon Bat changes your views on the four lords.
Warnings: Near-Death, Running, Being chased by the Queen of the ‘Dragon Castle’
A/n: I thought I was going to make this a one story thing, but I was WRONG! Hi, I apparently make series and this is apparently a series now. Also, plot twist comes in this chapter!
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1 Year...
Daniela’s injury had long healed however, eve if you were letting her go, she only just walked back towards you. No matter what you did to distance yourself from her, she’d always, someway somehow find her way back to you.
“Don’t you miss home sometimes?” You ask Daniela, leaning against her back
I do but... I enjoy being in your presence as much as I do being at home.
“Are you sure?” You ask her, reeling in a fish, “Last time I checked, there was nothing special here...”
As you bring in that reeled fish, you toss it to Daniela and she catches it, downing it in a gulp. You roll up your sleeves as you reveal a tattoo. It was a design of Daniela; the Brilliant Red scales and mane with a hint of Brilliant Emerald Green scales was all in the design. You unfortunately had to leave town for a little bit to go into the modern world to get it done.
I can’t believe you really have a tattoo of me...
“You’re my best friend Dani,” You explain, “So, even if you go, you’ll be on these adventures with me.”
You’re something else Y/n...
“Hey, were you always a dragon?” You ask, “Sorry if that’s out of the blue... If a dragon bat can communicate with me telepathically you must be human as well...”
I don’t know... However, there is a legend... Where humans who were turned into monsters like me...
“I don’t see you as a monster,” You say
You... Don’t?
“I don’t,” You say, “Continue on the ‘legend’ you know about.”
You don’t notice Daniela’s cheeks flushing a deep red.
It started with a daughter of the royal family. She was absolutely lovesick. From time to time she fell for many different men. One night she went too far and killed the man that she had ‘fallen in love’ with. This had angered the townspeople. The daughter was chased to the edge of town, where she begged mother to help her. However, the mother... Was fed up with her daughters’ flirtatious ways. However, deeply caring for her daughter, she felt merciful and found a way to curse her. The mother had cursed the daughter to become a hybrid of a Dragon and a Bat. The challenge for her cursed daughter was to find someone who would love them not only for appearances but for one who truly is themselves shall be turned back to normal.
“That’s... Intense,” You sigh, “Do you think... It’s about you?”
Who knows? Just maybe.
“Well, for one, it’s awesome having a dragon bat for a best friend,” You start, “Who would have thought that-”
You hear rustling in the distance. This causes Daniela to begin hissing and growling. You stand up and cock your gun and stand up to begin making your way to where the noise was. Daniela right behind you to protect you. You lift your gun and begin listening for anything out of the ordinary.
Dani... You hear them too?
I do.
As quick as a flash of light, a hoard of Lycans jumps down from the bushes, ensnaring Daniela in a net.
“Daniela!” You yell, beginning to shoot the lycans, “Let her go!”
One lycan had gotten closer to you however, you immediately whip yourself around and shoot at the lycan that was inches away from your face. You watch molten fire string right above you, dodging the drips of lava that was dripping down from the stream of molten flame.
Run!
“I don’t think so!” You yell, taking down the remaining lycans that were holding Daniela down
You immediately remove the netting from Daniela and wrap your arms around her neck as much as you could.
I thought I told you to run...
“I’m not leaving you behind Dani,” You say, sternly, “We’re partners...”
The Dragon Bat coos under your touch as the both of you begin walking back to your home. Somehow you had been able to keep it afloat. Even with all of the Lycans targeting you. However, you were certain they were all after Daniela. You shoot at the final lycan but hear it beginning to speak.
“The mother of... The Castle... Will kill you...” It says before dying
The lady of the castle?... Does he mean?-
Y/n? Are you okay?
“I’m fine,” You sigh, “No scratches or anything.. Shouldn’t you get back to the castle?”
My mother is being overprotective... I can take care of myself.
“I wouldn’t want you being strongly punished for choosing to stay with me,” You sigh, “Or even me getting burned alive... I wouldn’t want to go out like that.”
Then how would you want to go out?
“On my bed,” You answer, “Surrounded by the people I love... Well, you for that matter... I’m pretty sure a dragon bat like yourself can live longer than the average mortal...”
That is true, But... I’d rather go out valiantly.
“As your typical dragon bat would,” You smile and sigh
What’s wrong with going out valiantly?
“Nothing at all,” You state, “You should go out valiantly. Or at least protecting the ones you love.”
Before Daniela could answer, the both of you look up to the sky and notice a large silhouette of a dragon. Daniela uses her head to nudge you inside of your home.
“Daniela!” You yell as Daniela uses her tail to lock you in the house
Daniela walks away from the home and watches the large dragon land in front of her.
You stay away from the castle for over a year?!
I wanted to be on my own for awhile mother!
What if a hunter could have killed you?! Or even sold you for money?!
Mother the human I’m with has not sold me or killed me!
You try to unlock the door however it was locked from the outside. You cover your fist with your hoodie and begin punching the door window, unlocking it. However, you look down and notice how your fist began bleeding; seeing dark spots beginning to seep through. You leave your fist covered however, you run in front of Daniela.
“You leave her alone!” You scream
Oh! We have a loud mouth!
Your eyes widen and jump out of the way just as the white and black dragon breathes its fire.
Mother Stop! Please!
If you want me to stop you must come home!
Daniela actually considered it, but, she had grown attached to you. She couldn’t just up and leave right then and there. She didn’t want to leave you. You appear right back at Daniela’s side, not long before the ‘Mother Dragon’ had began forming her fire in her mouth. It wasn’t before Daniela had curled her neck so that she was practically guarding you; her tail also curled around you. You hear and feel the growling emitting off of Daniela.
You DARE growl at your mother?!
Mother... I don’t want you hurting this human... She saved my life!
Humans are all the same! Now move my daughter!
Daniela also didn’t want to anger her mother. A chill shoots up your spine as you feel Daniela’s tail move away from you, along with her head and neck. But, you feel her warm steam exit her nose.
“Run...” A very feminine voice whispers in
You’re not sure what shot through your body, but in the next second, your foot pivots and you run... And run... And run.
You come back and succumb to your despair!!
You could hear what the Mother Dragon was yelling. But, you don’t turn to look back. That’s one thing your father taught you; to never look back when you’re running away from something. However, you hear another roar; making you finally turn your head, stopping in your tracks.
Daniela?! What is the meaning of this?!
“Run Y/n!!!” Daniela yelps as she falls off her mothers’ back
Did Daniela just...
You wanted to turn back and help her. But how could you? The Mother Dragon said it herself. You were a mere human. No special powers, no dragon bat abilities you were just human. However, you couldn’t just simply run away now. Daniela was in trouble.
You will come home this time! And you will never-
Before the Dragon Mother could finish her sentence at a whimpering Daniela, she turns to a pressure on her tail; your teeth were attempting to sink into the scaly tail. Like themselves, you were grunting, growling and trying to injure the Dragon mother long enough for Daniela to get free.
No mortal has ever sunk their wee teeth into me flesh before... Got to say little one... You have guts... No matter, You’re finished..
With a simple motion, your teeth weren’t strong enough to hold against the Dragon Mothers’ tail whip. Daniela’s ember eyes widen as she watches your body be flung over the edge of the cliff. Despite being under her mothers’ foot, she manages to break free from her mothers’ grasp.
Y/n!!!!!
You couldn’t scream. The heavy drop of your stomach made it hard for you to. At that point you decided to accept your despaired fate. That was... Until you saw a silhouette of dragon wings...
A/N: Omg!! It’s been too long! I’ve gotten a new job and it has been exhausting me to the bone! Hopefully I can upload more soon!!
Go Home Daniela
#daniela dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu x reader#bela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu#half dragon half bat#house dimitrescu#resident evil village
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Dark Delights | Tom Hiddleston x Reader
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader
Summary: Tom has been having late night shooting the new Loki series. When he comes home late at night, he makes a startling discovery about what you dream about at night.
Warnings: Smut, Roleplay, Talking in your Sleep, Sex, Vaginal Sex, Teasing, Light Dom/sub, Vaginal Fingering
-
Tom hated these late night shootings. He recognized you hated them just as much, even if you never said a word. He spied the disappointment in your eyes every time he told you not to wait up. Tom promised himself to make it up to you the first night off he got.
Tom entered the dark apartment and didn’t bother to turn on the lights. At this hour, you would be asleep and he feared any light would disturb you. He moved through the sparsely furnished place, dropping his belongings on the kitchen counter. Bobby scampering up at the sound and Tom smiled as he leaned down to scratch behind Bobby’s ears.
“Keeping watch over the lady of the house?” Tom asked as Bobby leaned into the pets. Bobby barked before heading back to his bed in the corner. “Good boy.”
He pushed open the bedroom door and squinted to find the outline of your body under the sheets. His stomach flipped at the sight of you sleeping peacefully as his eyes adjusted to the dark. You struggled to sleep under the best circumstances and Tom made every accommodation he could, including hanging blackout curtains in the room.
As he pulled off his sweater, you stirred, a slight whimper escaping your lips.
“Darling, are you awake?” Tom questioned into the dark void.
You answered with another whimper. Tom slid off his jeans, laying him across the back of a chair in the corner. He slipped off his boxers before slipping between the sheets. You rolled from your side to your back as Tom moved towards you.
“Darling…” Tom asked again as he caressed your arm with the back of his fingers.
You moaned at his touch and Tom’s eyes widened in realization as his lips curved into a smile.
“What are we dreaming about tonight, love?” Tom cooed into your ear as his fingers teased at the straps of your camisole.
“Hmm… Loki.” you breathed as if in response.
Tom leaned back in surprise. He shook his head as he couldn’t be sure he heard you right. Due to the late hour, he didn’t trust his hearing. Tom tested his theory.
As Tom pressed against your side, he draped one hand down your leg, teasing your inner thigh, while his other one ran across the curve of your breast.
“In the end, you crave subjugation.” Tom growled into your ear, using the timbre he reserved only for the screen.
You arched your back, your ass pushed against Tom’s crotch. You licked your lips as you groaned.
“Yes, Loki!” Your breath hitched, and you groaned as you turned onto your side, your breath returning to an even and heavy tempo.
Tom chuckled as he returned to his side of the bed. “Interesting.”
-
You woke the next morning to find Tom’s side of the bed cold. You envied his ability to wake early and go for a run. You stood and padded off to the kitchen, hoping to find Tom there.
“Morning, love.” Tom greeted you as he turned from the fridge. “Coffee?”
“Hmm.” you nodded. Tom retrieved a mug from the cupboard and pour your coffee, adding sweetener and creamer.
You inhaled the aroma before taking your first sip, savoring that taste. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I am making some eggs if you want some.”
“Please.”
Tom smiled as he turned his attention to the stove.
“So how late did you get in last night? I didn’t hear you.”
“After midnight. I didn’t want to wake you. Did you sleep well?” Tom prodded.
“Hmmm. yes. Thank you for hanging those curtains.”
“My pleasure.” Tom plated the eggs and joined you at the table. “I’ve been wondering how do you like the black hair?” Tom ran his fingers through his hair.
“It’s nice but I prefer you ginger.” You took a big bite of eggs.
“You are too kind, darling. Have you ever considered about using it to our advantage in the bedroom? I could bring home a costume from the set or something?” Tom raised his eyebrows, staring at you.
You dropped your fork. “No, no, no!” you stammered. “I don’t think I would like that.” you lied as you reached for Tom’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You are plenty of an adventure in that department.”
Tom chuckled as his head dropped. “Thanks, darling. If you ever change your mind…” He gave you a knowing glance.
“You will be the first to know.”
Tom squeezed your hand back and rose to clear the plates. He headed to pick up his things.
“Will you be late again?”
“I’m afraid so.” He leaned down and pecked your lips. “Don’t wait up.”
“I won’t. Love you. Kick some ass.” You playfully swatted at Tom’s backside.
“Of course.”
-
Tom again returned late in the evening to a darkened apartment. He repeated the routine from the previous night before. As he entered the room, he glanced at you. Your knees were pulled up, tenting the sheets. Again, Tom noticed the telltale moan escape your lips.
Tom slipped next to you. He didn’t bother asking if you were awake. He decided instead to have a bit of fun.
“Oh dear, look at the state you are in.” he purred into your ear.
His fingers traced along your thigh before he grazed along your slit through your panties, already soaking with your arousal. You squirmed under his touch. You gasped.
“Would like me to help you out?” Tom continued to tease you.
“Please, Loki.” you begged.
Tom laughed. “I would much prefer to see you bring yourself to completion. Play with yourself, dove.” Tom commanded.
You groaned at the authoritative tone. Tom swore you gushed just at his voice as Loki. Your hand made its way down the front of your panties.
“Yes!” you hissed as you played with your clit. Your orgasm already near.
The sight of you pleasuring yourself caused Tom to fist his hardened cock, chasing his own release.
“That’s it, darling. You delight my senses.” Tom teased, his breath heavy as his own orgasm approached.
His words spurred you on and you slipped a finger inside of you. You curled it inside you, hitting that spot making your knees quiver.
“I’m close.” you whispered.
“As am I. Cum for me, dove.” Tom’s head fell against the pillows.
Your orgasm hit you hard, and your toes curled. “YES!”
“Fuck!” Tom hissed as he orgasmed himself.
Your body relaxed against the mattress. Tom kissed your cheek before getting up to clean himself up in the bathroom.
“How delightful.” Tom’s mind raced with possibilities for tomorrow night.
-
You slept in the next morning, exhausted. You had a very vivid dream last night involving Loki. You would never admit to Tom about your dark fantasies regarding Loki. You rolled over to find a note on Tom’s pillow.
Darling,
I am sorry I’m not there when you wake up. I am also sorry I won’t be able to make our lunch date today. Last-minute change to the call sheet. But I made you an appointment at your favorite spa to help soften the blow. Another late night. Don’t wait up.
Love, Tom
P.S. After tonight, I am yours all weekend.
You allowed yourself to be sad at the lost lunch date for a moment or two before moving onto the excitement of a day of pampering. You skipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
Four Hours Later
“She made it there, okay?” Tom asked the person on the other line.
“Fantastic. And how long will she be there?” Tom nodded. “Two hours? That is perfect. Will you ring me when she leaves? Thank you so much.”
Tom hung up the phone, and then hit a different number. “We have two hours. Meet me at the apartment.”
-
You got back to the apartment well before dinner. All the lights were out, which you swore you had left a few on. You dropped your purse and shopping bags by the door and headed to the bedroom to change into lounge wear.
“How dare you keep me waiting!” a familiar baritone echoed in the unlit room.
“Tom?” you asked the void. It was impossible to see anything. Those blackout curtains did their job.
“Your precious Tom is not here. He sent…” Tom stepped out of the shadows of the room and into the little light let in from the bathroom and living room. “… me in his place.”
He was dressed in his Loki costume. All leather and metal. His black locks slicked back.
“What on earth are you wearing, Tom?” Your voice cracked as he strutted towards you.
He held his hands out. “This is my regular armor.” He backed you against the wall. “Call me Tom one more time…” His hands hit the wall by your head. “… and I will punish you.”
You opened your mouth to protest but considered otherwise. You tilted your chin. “Then what shall I call you?”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You know all too well what to call me, pet. It is the same name that has fallen from your lips the past two evenings.”
Your eyes widened, and your mouth dropped open. “But I—”
Loki placed a finger upon your lips. “There is no need to explain. I am well aware of the desire I spark in many a Midgardian woman.”
Loki pressed against you to hover his lips over your ear. “And tonight I am here for you. To make your darkest fantasies a reality.”
You gasped as his words sent a shiver down your spine and heat straight to your core.
“All you have to do is say the words and I’m all yours.” He stepped away. You leaned forward, hungry for his warmth.
You bit your lip, choosing your next words carefully. “Take me, Loki.” His lips curled up into a mischevious grin. “My king.” you added with a smirk.
Loki pushed you back against the wall, hitching your leg up. His lips attacked your neck, nipping and sucking with each kiss.
“You will leave marks.” You whined.
He laughed against you, bucking against you in dominance, his erection straining against his pants. “Then everyone will recognize that you are mine.”
You snapped your hips against him. “You are aware I am taken by another.”
“I don’t see a ring claiming you.” Loki pulled your top over your head. His hands slid over your torso. “He must not realize what he has.”
“Oh, I think he does.” you smirked. “He is a gentleman.”
“How boring.” Loki squeezed your breasts, and you arched your back.
“Yes.” you sighed.
“Does that please you?” He reached behind and unhooked your bra. You let it fall to the floor. He pinched your nipples, teasing them to hard pebbles.
“It does.” you breathed, palming him through his leather trousers. Loki growled through his teeth. “Does this please you?”
“Well aren’t you full of mischief?”
“I would rather be full of the God of Mischief.”
“In due time. First, I must…” He tugged your pants down to your ankles, you kicked them away. “… prepare for you a god.”
Loki’s fingers trailed down your body and you shifted your weight to open your legs to his touch. He swiped along your folds.
“Perhaps you don’t need as much preparation as I first imagined. Already so wet for me.” He pushed a finger into you. You gripped his shoulders for support. “And tight.”
He added a second finger, and you bucked against him. Your release coming upon you fast.
“Please…” you begged.
Loki pressed his thumb against your clit. “Cum undone for me.”
You spasmed around his fingers as you saw bright white. You clung to Loki for support as your legs gave way. He pulled his fingers and popped them into his mouth.
“Delicious.”
You groaned.
“Lie down on the bed.”
You did as you were told, settling against the pillows. Loki undid buckles and snaps as he shed layers of leather. He soon stood in front of you, naked. The mattress gave under his weight as he crawled towards you.
“You are a vision.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Well, I am a god.” Loki commented. “Now to make good on my promise.”
He teased your folds with the tip of his cock, collecting some of your juices before pushing into you, filling you completely.
“FUCK! Yes, Loki!”
“You are divine when you moan my name. Although I much prefer you to be awake.” Loki snapped his hips against you.
Loki rutted against you with an animalistic need. You bucked your hips to match his thrusts. His pubic bone grazed against your clit, creating delicious friction.
“Loki, I am close.” you panted. Your nails dug into his back.
“Then cum for me. I want to feel you around me.”
Loki snaked his hand between your bodies to find your clit, drawing tight circles. You screamed as you orgasmed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, causing him to soon follow with his own release, spilling inside you. He stilled inside you, and you twisted underneath him, signaling for him to fall to your side.
“Tom?” you asked tentatively.
His eyes soften, the crinkles appearing around his eyes as he smiled at you. “Yes, darling?”
“How long do you have the costume for?”
“Um… Monday. Why?” his brow furrowed.
“I have a few other ideas in mind.” Your hands swirled across his chest hair.
“What did you have in mind?” His eyes sparkled.
#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston fanfiction#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston x reader#tom hiddleston imagine#tom hiddleston smut
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THE JEDI AS NATURAL, INSTINCTIVE TEACHERS IS A FUNDAMENTAL TO WHO THEY ARE AT THE CORE. For @jedijune‘s theme for Saturday, June 13th: Teaching/Learning
Taking a Closer Look at the Jedi Order in Star Wars Canon [Meta/Reference Guide]: Chapter 3: Teaching Is A Central Theme To The Jedi
Teaching is a central theme to the Jedi:
Obi-Wan: “You’d make a good teacher.”
Anakin: “No thanks.”
Obi-Wan: “Anakin, teaching is a privilege. And it’s part of a Jedi’s responsibility to help train the next generation.” [Star Wars: The Clone Wars movie]
“Master Yoda said we never stop learning. Perhaps the Master is meant to be as much a student as the Padawan. I may not be the teacher that Qui-Gon was. But I am the one that Anakin has.” (–Obi-Wan Kenobi, Age of the Republic: Obi-Wan Kenobi #1)
Henry Gilroy and Dave Filoni on establishing Yoda as a teacher early on:
Gilroy: "There were elements that we really wanted to explore, and that was things that were classic to Yoda, as a teacher. We thought this was a great opportunity to show how the Jedi interact with the clones. Specifically Yoda in a teaching role, of the clones, who were socially new, who were created to fight, and he really broadened their horizons, and helped them realize there was a great big universe out there that was bigger than just fighting and killing.“
Filoni: "You see Yoda teaching the clones, much like he taught Luke, ‘cause that was kind of natural for them, a natural instinct to take these clones like their students. And it really allowed Yoda to have a scene that was reminiscent of a scene we both liked growing up, when he was teaching Luke.”
(Star Wars: The Clone Wars, “Ambush” commentary)
George Lucas on education (who believes it is the most fundamental issue):
“Plato didn’t teach [in the sense of drilling answers into them] people anything. All he did was ask questions. The process was asking questions–'Why is the sky blue?’ It was purely a reverse of us feeding you all the information and [instead] teaching the kids how to learn.”
I find this is often the answer for why Yoda or the other Jedi don’t just lecture on the answers re: Force theology, because the narrative believe/creator’s belief is that it’s more important to teach how to ask a question than to drill in an answer. A direct example is Yoda’s teachings to Ahsoka in “Teach You, I Will” getting her to think for herself and how George Lucas talks in an Empire Strikes Back documentary about Yoda’s bizarre speech patterns being about getting the audience to really stop and think about what the weird little frog man is saying.
JEDI PHILOSOPHY + TEACHINGS:
The Jedi did not see themselves as infallible or that failure was something any of them could avoid, even for their most esteemed Council members:
Depa Billaba: "We cannot deny, Masters, that I failed you. Failed you on a massive scale.“
Obi-Wan Kenobi: "A lack of failure has never been a prerequisite to service, else none of us would be here. Welcome back to the Council, Master Billaba.” [Kanan: The Last Padawan]
The Jedi do not see themselves as a source of the light side of the Force, but rather the other way around. In Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith, Jocasta faces off against Vader and says:
“You are [Palpatine’s] tool. Little better than a droid, set to stamp out the light side of the Force. But this is impossible. The Force is eternal. It cannot be ended, it cannot be stopped, not so long as life exists.“ showing that, even if all the Jedi were dead, they knew that the light would still find its way in the galaxy, because the Force is eternal, the Force is in all life, the light is in all life, so long as that life exists.
“The Jedi can guide. We can teach. We can help people to help themselves. But we are not an army. If a people are truly determined to write themselves out of existence, there is little we can do.” [Obi-Wan & Anakin]
Questions are shown as natural and a good thing:
“A child, Anakin remains. His path before coming to us, difficult. His questions, natural.” [–Yoda, Obi-Wan & Anakin]
"I have no issues with Anakin. He is asking questions, as he should be at his age.“ [–Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan & Anakin]
It’s not just younglings that should be asking questions, but everyone:
"Answers, did you find?”
"I did. And as often is with the Force, more questions.“
"Mmmm. Good, questions are. Ask them we must. Certainty in our understanding, to arrogance it leads. To the dark side.” [–Yoda, Qui-Gon, Age of the Republic - Qui-Gon Jinn #1]
Questions and determining your own path tend to be a big theme with the Jedi, that everyone must determine what they want for themselves, what they understand the Force has laid out their path to be and whether they want that, like with the above, and when it’s woven into the very decision that Ezra has to make, that Kanan can’t just tell him what to do on this:
“Which way is the right way?
“The wrong question, that is.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. To be honest, I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”
“A better question, that is.”
“Kanan said I was gonna be tested, but he never said what for or why.”
“And your Master tell you everything, must he?”
“Well– No.”
“Your path you must decide.” [–Ezra and Yoda, Star Wars Rebels, “Path of the Jedi”]
Obi-Wan taught Anakin that things should not be trampled just for acting according to their nature, instead (when they can) use the Force to move them along:
"These beasts are nearly mindless, Anakin. I can feel it. They are merely following their nature, they should not die simply because they crossed our path. Use the Force to send them on their way.” [Obi-Wan & Anakin]
Henry Gilroy says a similar thing with:
"Obi-Wan truly is a Jedi in that he’s like, ‘Okay, I’m not going to murder these creatures [in the Ryloth arc of The Clone Wars]. They’re starving to death. They’ve basically been unleashed against these people as a weapon, but it’s not their fault. They’re just doing what they do. They’re just animals who wanna eat.’ [Aggressive Negotiations Interview]
Ezra says he saw his parents and Kanan tells him what the Jedi teach:
"I saw them, Kanan. My parents. I-- I can't explain how."
"The Jedi teach that life doesn't cease at death, merely changes form in the Force. Your parents are alive inside you, Ezra. They will be. Always." [Star Wars Rebels, "Legacy"]
JEDI AND THEIR STUDENTS:
A great emphasis is placed on teachers and students working together: “Yoda cocked his head. ‘Adapt he must as well. Cooperation is learned not through individual effort. Only together can you progress.’” [Master and Apprentice]
Yoda also says the bond between a Master and a Padawan is sacred. [Dooku: Jedi Lost]
Jedi are never really done being students/being tested, even when they become teachers and Masters themselves, that students teach Masters just as Masters teach students, and their tests reflect this:
"But surely I should have been informed if you were testing my Padawan?“
"Who says the lesson was for him?” Bant said, smiling at her old friend.
Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped. "You were testing me?“
"For both of you, the test was,” Yoda told him.
Mace nodded. "A reminder that while Padawans must listen to their masters…“
"Teachers must also listen to their pupils,” Bant concluded. [Choose Your Destiny: Obi-Wan & Anakin]
“This is why we study. Why we learn. Skill is the child of patience.“ [Obi-Wan & Anakin]
"Your mission was never about [bringing back] the book. It was about everything you did to find it. All the challenges you had to face along the way. And you overcame them all.” "It was a test.“ "It was a journey, the next step in your training, and you succeeded in every way that mattered.” (–Luminara Unduli, Barriss Offee, Star Wars Adventures #20)
EARLY JEDI TEACHINGS/JEDI PHILOSOPHY 101:
As an overview of what Jedi teach as the early and foundational lessons, across multiple media, we see that meditation and self-reflection are just as important as bonding with their sacred crystal and practicing with their lightsaber, which then also connects with how so much of the early teachings Kanan gives Ezra when they're just starting are just as much/more focused on connection and understanding of self. (As detailed below this!) [Age of the Republic: Obi-Wan Kenobi + Kanan: The Last Padawan + Obi-Wan & Anakin]
One of the very first training sessions we see Kanan giving to Ezra–and thus informing our understanding of the foundations of Jedi teachings–is to have Ezra doing a handstand and tells him to, “Focus. Focus on letting go.” Eventually, trying to toss objects at him to get him into letting the Force move through him, hear its whispers instead of shouting at it. Before Kanan brings out his lightsaber to practice with, he wants Ezra to first mentally focus. [Star Wars Rebels, “Rise of the Old Masters”]
Another one of the earliest lessons Kanan teaches Ezra, putting it as one of the foundations of Jedi teachings is how they're connected to other beings:
“Step outside of yourself. Make a connection with another being.” as he teaches Ezra to connect with a loth-cat.
“I just don’t see the point of this.”
“The point is that you’re not alone. You’re connected to every living thing in the universe.” [Star Wars Rebels, “Empire Day”]
When Kanan first starts training Ezra, he repeats Yoda’s saying of, “Do or do not. There is no try.” When Ezra questions it, Kanan says that he really doesn’t understand it, either. By the end of the episode, after Kanan realizes Luminara can’t train Ezra, that he has to commit to Ezra instead of half-assing this, he says:
"I– Ezra. I’m not gonna try to teach you anymore. If all I do is try, that means I don’t truly believe I can succeed. So from now on, I will teach you.“ [Star Wars Rebels, “Rise of the Old Masters”]
Another early lesson is that Ezra must be honest with himself to advance as a Jedi:
“Ezra, you’ll never advance as a Jedi if you can’t be honest with yourself, at least.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means Tseebo matters to you. You do care what happens to him.” [Star Wars Rebels, “Gathering Forces”]
Which is then reaffirmed later in that same episode:
“I got news for you, kid. Everyone’s afraid, but admitting it as you just did makes you braver than most, and it’s a step forward.” [–Kanan Jarrus, Star Wars Rebels, “Gathering Forces”]
Ezra has trouble moving forward in the first season because discipline and focus are fundamental to being a Jedi:
“But you said I was a Jedi. Why else would you be training me?”
“I never said you were a Jedi. I said you had the potential to become one. But you lack discipline, focus.” [Star Wars Rebels, “Path of the Jedi”]
JEDI CULTURE:
Jedi younglings (at least the diurnal ones) wake at dawn to meditate on the three pillars–the Force, Knowledge, and Self-Discipline. Then they go to the refectory for lunch, where Dooku always likes to sit next to Sifo-Dyas. [Dooku: Jedi Lost]
The Jedi have a strong aesthetic that echoes the deepest parts of the Force–all circles and lines. Time and the Force and the Jedi are all connected circles and arcing lines.
“You must not grow too attached, too fond, too in love with life as it is now. The emotions are valuable and should not be suppressed… but you must learn to rule them, Padawan, lest they rule you.“ (Kanan: The Last Padawan)
“This man is perverting our sacred teachings to prey upon a vulnerable people. I can think of little my tongue could say better than my saber in this instance.”
“Dissolve your hostility, Padawan. Channel your frustrations into an appropriate emotion. Violence, as always, is a last resort.”
“Of course. Apologies, Master.”
“A fire burns inside of you, Padawn. That, in itself, is not inherently wrong. It is my job to help you temper it.” [Jedi of the Republic - Mace Windu]
JEDI AND FACING THE DARK SIDE:
“The fact that everything must change and that things come and go through [Anakin’s] life and that he can’t hold onto things, which is a basic Jedi philosophy that he isn’t willing to accept emotionally.” (George Lucas, Attack of the Clones commentary)
The Jedi test from the Rebels episode “Path of the Jedi” novelization on facing their fears/the dark side within them:
"This test was not designed solely for the apprentice. It was also a test for the master, for facing one’s fears was a lifelong struggle.” (Ezra’s Duel with Danger)
The test is specifically designed by the Jedi–as is the same test on Ilum for the Jedi younglings that they all had to face–to face their fears, because it didn’t just happen one time, it was something they faced all their lives, younglings and Knights and Masters, all of them. This is why Ezra has to face it in Rebels, why Luke has to face it on Dagobah, why Rey has to face it on Ahch-To, the Jedi have always had to face the darkness within themselves and work beyond it.
Kanan also says it plainly as they enter the Temple:
“In here, you’ll have to face your worst fears and overcome them.”
It’s pretty obvious that’s what happening when the Temple shows him a vision of the Grand Inquisitor killing Kanan and Ezra has to pick himself back up, admit what he’s feeling so he can face the fears again, and understand that he has to let them go and then it cannot hurt him here, the Grand Inquisitor’s blade passes right through him. It’s then Yoda’s voice calls to him and we see that Ezra letting go of those fears allow him to move forward:
“Big fears have you faced, young one.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. For what lies ahead, ready are you?”
“I am.”
“Come. See more clearly what you could not see before.” [Star Wars Rebels, “Path of the Jedi”]
When Cal is struggling with facing his fears and needs to create a new lightsaber, Cere gives him a pep talk and they head off to Ilum, where she tells him: “You will be tested. I don’t mean just here [on Ilum]. Every Jedi faces the dark side. And it’s very easy to fail. We will always struggle. But that is the test. It’s the choice to keep fighting that makes us who we are." [–Cere Junda, Jedi: Fallen Order]
THE THEME OF GEORGE LUCAS’ MOVIES:
George Lucas says, “All of my movies are about one thing. Which is the fact that the only prison you’re in is the prison of your mind. And if you decide to open the door and get out, you can. There’s nothing stopping you.“ –George Lucas (American Voices, 2015)
Which is reflected in the teachings of the Jedi, which further shows they’re in line with the narrative intentions of Star Wars:
Petro: “You-you said we would be trapped.”
Yoda: “Not by the cave you were but by your mind. Lessons, you have learned. Find courage, you did. Hope, patience Trust, confidence, and selflessness.” (The Clone Wars, “The Gathering”)
#jedi order#jedi june#obi wan kenobi#anakin skywalker#mace windu#ahsoka tano#luke skywalker#george lucas#meta#long post
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Selenophile (M) | IkeVamp Comte
Fandom: Ikemen Vampire
Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain/Fem!Reader
Rating: Explicit/18+/NSFW
Word Count: 5k
Summary: You’re just a girl who fell in love with the moon, and got lucky enough to have him love you back.
a/n: Always thought Leonardo would be my first, and then Faa happened (~˘▾˘)~ All those Daddy Comte conversations sent a hoe tumbling into love. Also told myself this was going to be short and sweet, and in doing so, played myself. Sorry about that.
Also, for Thirst Purposes, we’re going to believe that Comte can bite her without turning her.
Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, vaginal and oral sex, mentions of blood due to vampire bite, this is my love letter to Daddy Comte, pretend im v romantic, also another episode where I had fun with online translators French speakers please don’t kill me
Selenophile (n.) a person who loves the moon.
“Here’s the next stack, and please, try to finish them before dinner?”
Collecting the last of the stray envelopes on the desk, you jog them and place the stack in one corner. Narrowed, aurum eyes watch you over the top of a letter. “These aren’t quite as urgent, so you can have a look at them later.”
“Mm,” the Count sighs into his cup for the fifth time, no doubt waiting for you to turn around to see what’s got him so down. Your eyes drift to the ostentatious bouquet of roses in the corner of the room, a soft, blush pink this time, before you squint at the seal on the last envelope. Placing it on top of the pile in front of him, you smile down at his pursed lips and pleading eyes.
You know the gentlemanly persona is just one of the many facets of the Count’s personality, and it seems to be the one he chooses to adopt when amongst company. Your relationship thus far has been nothing short of an adventure, complete with adversaries and sacrifices, and a man that can take your breath away with just one little smile.
He loves, and lives to spoil you. He delights in drawing you into his arms and kissing you as he stealthily clasps delicate necklaces around your neck and slips bracelets set with sparkling gems onto your wrists. It still makes you uncomfortable at times, but the way his eyes shine when he admires the way they rest against your skin, a pleased smile tugging at the corners of his lips–it kills any real motivation to protest.
And when he undresses you, with a soft-spoken request to keep the jewellery on, you’re hard-pressed to find any real reason to object. It’s all part of his favourite evening game; with you completely bare, wearing just the priceless trinkets he’s picked out for you. His seat of preference is the armchair he pulls up to the front of the bed, from where he calls out his requests for you. You can say no, you’re expected to tell him if anything makes you uncomfortable, but when he tells you to spread your legs a little more, to finger yourself a skosh slower, nearly panting as the smell of your arousal–all you feel is hot, dizzying lust.
To see the wild lust lurking beneath that noble veneer, to open your eyes, trembling through the aftershocks of an orgasm, and see the sheer hunger in his face as he strokes his cock. The way his fangs sink into you speaks of rapidly fraying control, sending agonizing ecstasy pumping through you as he makes you come again.
You enjoy teasing him. It’s a dangerous game to play in front of the ever-observant residents, especially a certain author who would love nothing more than to see you seduce their sire. You had nearly gotten caught just once, when he had had enough of your games.
A brush of your fingers, over his shoulder. A stroke of your thumb over his knuckles, and if you were feeling bold, weaving your fingers through his hair. A lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth and feel the air between you grow heavy. Just a quick pet at the nape of his neck and pulling away before he could lean into your touch.
He always catches on almost right away, and gives you serene smile in response, a gentle warning. Only once had his patience spun out of his control and he pinned you to a bookshelf in the library, slipping a hand under your dress as he crushed his mouth to yours, hissing when he discovered the lack of a barrier between your legs.
You were sure he would have taken you right there if not for the sudden, loud whistling of a jaunty tune–a hint that you weren’t alone in the library. Still, he had considered it for a moment. You could tell by the look on his face–all he had to do was make sure you stayed quiet.
But then Leonardo started singing, completely off-key and almost insistently, as if warning him off. It was the confused whispers from Isaac, no doubt wondering if Leonardo had lost his mind, that finally had your beau stepping away.
Even now, as you pour him his afternoon tea, you can feel his eyes doing a full sweep of your figure, longing and wondering. He’d been away on business for the past two weeks and you’ve missed him terribly. He had only gotten back yesterday, and you’ve somehow had your hands full with errands and tasks for the residents and no time to spend in his arms.
Although, if you must be perfectly honest, you have had a little fun leaving him with affectionate kisses and tender whispers before you rush off to attend to the next task.
“How is your day going, ma chérie?” he asks, accepting the cup with a soft smile.
“Well enough, I’d say. Sebas is going to teach me how to make coq au vin, so please look forward to that!” you inform him, stars in your eyes. You pretend not to notice the way his smile grows just a tad strained, no doubt at the realization that you’ll have your plate full today as well.
“I can’t wait to try it.” His sincerity is genuine, though, and you have to restrain yourself from climbing into his lap, striding over to the door instead. “Darling?”
You turn back to see him hesitating, searching your face for something before sinking back into his armchair.
“Have a wonderful day.”
There’s hunger in his eyes and your heart pounds within its cage.
“You too. I love you,” you add, unable to help it, and you’re glad you did because of the tiny smile curling along his mouth as he echoes the words back at you.
This waiting game can’t go on much longer. He hasn’t lost his composure the way you had secretly hoped to see, but it seems that his patience is running out.
You rarely find chances to spend together during the day, and today is no different. Dinner takes up much of your time, and after you find yourself swept up in conversation with Napoleon and Isaac, cleaning up takes more time than you had hoped.
As Sebastian shares what he had discovered about Napoleon’s sparring preferences, while you dissolve into helpless giggles at his enthusiastic reenactment as you scrub the dishes, the Count stops by for more tea.
“Ah, still here? It’s quite late, you must be tired.” He watches over the rim of his teacup as you study at a plate, before wiping at a barely-visible smudge.
“We’re nearly done, Sir. Not to worry though, it’s always fun when we work together,” your companion assures him, and you shoot him a quick grin.
“That’s right. And we do make a great time, don’t we?” You raise your hand, and with a half-hearted roll of his eyes, Sebastian smacks his palm against yours.
“I suppose we do.”
You turn to Comte just in time to catch his small smile, and your own fades slightly as he turns to leave with a low, murmured goodnight.
Even as you hurry through your bath, rushing to your room to change and don a thin robe, the hint of melancholy in his smile stays with you and apprehension courses through your veins.
It wasn’t quite jealousy. It’s tempting to play that game, but usually, you avoiding it. He’s a gentle, benevolent man, but the Count does not wear jealousy well. Thankfully, the only resident you run into on your way to his room is Vincent, who asks no questions, only wishing you a pleasant night with a knowing smile.
His chambers are empty and you find him standing in the balcony instead, the summer evening pleasant and soothing on your skin as you step out. His head is tilted back, and you realize he seems to be studying the night sky. With the soft, shimmering moonlight eager to paint him in its subtle tones, there’s an ethereal glow beneath his skin.
He shines brighter in the sunlight, but in this moment he truly looks like one untouched by the grasping hands of death in any of its forms, blessed by Selene herself or perhaps, she chose another form, one that is surely far more beautiful than any other. You wonder if that makes you Endymion, the spellbound mortal to his smitten immortal, desperate to do whatever it takes so you never leave his side, destined to be together forever–but only in your dreams.
“Come join me, ma chérie.” He sounds almost distracted, and curiosity bubbles up as you step up next to him.
He’s more underdressed than you’ve ever seen him outside his room; clad only in his white shirt and slim pants. He always appears to be svelte, but with the soft fabric stretching taut over his shoulders, clinging to his narrow waist, you can only try to keep your eyes off his backside. An unbuttoned collar reveals a slender neck, his tie hanging loosely over his chest, his sleeves rolled up to his toned forearms, a glass of half-finished blanc in one hand.
He doesn’t look away from the sky, staring at the stars as if they hold the answer to all his questions. You choose to look at the moon while it observes the stars, studying him quietly, wanting to get closer before thinking better of it and coming to a halt, waiting for him to gather his thoughts.
Always out of reach, but always returning to you.
Or perhaps you’re the moonflower instead. Yearning for the light, for it to find you. With its quiet, yet all-consuming love; too bright for you at times, but even if you close your eyes you know its there, its soft light embracing you, giving itself over to you and sinking into your bones, its love unchanging. You thrive in his arms, blooming to life at his touch, the marks left on your skin always fading but you’re content to keep the one left on your heart, a quiet claiming.
He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, caramel bangs falling haphazardly over his forehead, before turning to you with a rueful smile that breaks you out of your musing. He finishes his drink with one last sip and sets the glass down to the side, on top of the balustrade.
“Forgive me, darling. I’m feeling a little out of sorts tonight.”
The muted atmosphere falls away as he turns his back on the sky to look at you, and you wonder if the stars think him foolish for it.
“Anything I can help with?” You take his hand in yours, clasping it between your palms and watch as a hint of mischief upturns his lips. And you realize it doesn’t matter if all the planets in the sky call you fools, as long as he never stops smiling at you.
“Perhaps. All day, I feel as if my most precious, mon trésor, has been a tad elusive.” He reaches out to tuck an errant lock of your ear behind your ear, his finger trailing down the length of your jaw as you tilt your head, adopting a thoughtful look.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Not at all,” he agrees, assuming a downcast expression, although his eyes still glint with purpose. “Every time I reach for her, she slips right through my fingers, leaving with me nothing but the memory of her warmth.”
“Oh, but that’s dreadful,” you gasp, holding his hand up to your chest. “What fool would try to elude you?”
He smiles a little, leaning in conspiratorially, his mouth ghosting the shell of your ear. You can barely keep from smiling as your stomach clenches in your anticipation.
“One who takes joy in teasing her poor, desperate lover,” he breathes, winding an arm around your waist as you try to slip away, your palms braced against his firm chest. “All day, she smiles at me, and with every smile I’m left wanting nothing more than to kneel before her and take everything she chooses to give me.”
His next breath leaves him on a shudder as you turn your head, your lips skimming the length of his jaw.
“With a man like you, is there really ever a choice? You make a woman want to give you everything she has.”
His smile is truer as he kisses the tip of your nose, while the hand on your hip inches lower. His eyes are bright, almost glowing and you’re struck mute as you watch his long lashes flutter. “As I should. After all, when a woman holds the power to take her lovesick fool apart with a smile, the fool can only try to aim for the same.”
“If this fool tries anymore, there won’t be anything left to take.”
“And, perhaps, then I’ll stop fearing her distance.” His lips trace the length of your neck, his nose pressing to your skin as he inhales deeply. “And the fear of her being ripped from my arms will fade.”
You press your lips to his temples, love and sadness tight leashes around your heart. “Then I suppose I’ll keep giving you everything I have.”
His palm slides further down to cup the swell of your rear. “Your love?”
You kiss his cheek. “You have it.”
His licks at the pulse point on your neck, and you tremble in his grasp. “Your body?”
“Yours.” A gasp leaves you when he sucks at the skin harshly, satisfied at the mark blooming to life. There’s a scrape of something sharp against soft flesh, and your knees grow weaker when you realize it’s the sharp-edged tip of a fang.
“Your happiness?” He tugs at the sash holding your robe together, loosening it to reveal your underthings. Brimming with his desire, his eyes are molten gold as they bore into yours.
“With you.” He kisses you, gentle and deep. Your hands meet at the nape of his neck, tugging him down so you can slip your tongue into his mouth. A low noise of protest escapes you as he pulls away to kiss his way up to your ear.
“And yet, you’ve been denying us both the pleasure of each other’s company.” He nips at the lobe of your ear, squeezing your ass gently, his tone dipping into something sly as he continues. “Then I see you laughing without a care with Sebastian. I...I cannot help but wonder if I’ve robbed you of the happiness you deserve.”
You can’t help the quick roll of your eyes. “Any happiness I deserve is the kind I want.” Your fist the hair at the back of his head, tugging it back to look him in the eyes. They waver in the face of your fierce affection, his lips parted as you tug harder, but you don’t back down. “And I want you.”
He sighs, but his chest quivers beneath your touch.
“Such ferocity. And no power in the world could make me give that up.” He isn’t teasing anymore, but he slips a thigh between your legs, using his grip on your ass to pull you forward. Your fingers dig into his shirt as you try not to gasp. “Ah, I’m afraid you are stuck with me.”
You run a hand through his hair as he ducks his head to pepper kisses all over your neck, and down to your collarbone.
His tongue draws slow, maddening circles over your skin. “So earlier in the kitchen...that wasn’t an attempt to drive me to jealousy?”
“I barely have to attempt, but no, it wasn’t.” You hide a sly smile in his hair. “Why, were you actually jealous?”
“I’ll admit I do find myself rather put out when I can’t have you all to myself. And knowing how deeply you’re coveted…” He pauses. “So you were playing games.” He lifts a breast from the soft fabric of your bustier, tucking the cloth underneath as he squeezes it gently. Even as your body begins to throb under his ministrations, you throw a nervous look over his shoulder to ensure nobody’s in the gardens. “And the roses you received in my absence?”
You roll your eyes, half-hearted this time, even as your heart attempts to inch its way to your throat. “A gift for you, no doubt, from your oldest friend.”
He chuckles, soft and dark, and it goes straight to your pussy “A gift for me they were not. Perhaps an attempt to entice my lady love while I was away?”
“A failed one, then. My heart is perfectly content where it is,” you retort, a pleased smile breaking across his expression before he clears his throat and looks at you seriously.
“Even so. The very thought of somebody else’s hands on you–a touch uninvited by us, that is–I will not stand for it.”
“What do you suggest we do, then?” A soft palm slips down his abdomen, and he smirks down at you.
“I have a few suggestions. Each more depraved than the previous, and none you will approve of.”
His mouth closes over a nipple, sucking harshly, and this time you do moan.
“So-somebody might hear us!” Even so, you push his thigh back to push your hips into his, your lips parting at the press of his clothed arousal between your legs.
“Good. I feel that they can all do with a reminder of who you chose. Including me.” He bites down and you’re helpless to your combined lust in the way you grind against his erection. “This should be a fact they can never forget.“
In a quick movement, he’s shifted your positions, leaving you half-sitting on the balustrade. And then he’s sinking down to his knees, urgently planting hot kisses on the inside of your thighs as he spreads them. You can’t tear your eyes away from the entrance to the balcony, afraid that someone will walk in.
A soft click catches your attention and, incredulous, you look down to see him looking all too pleased with himself, holding your foot up to admire a delicate anklet studded with–
“Those better not be real,” you warn, and he simply smiles at you, pressing his lips to your ankle as his other hand slides up your leg. His tongue traces the skin surrounding the jewelled band, and all the fight leaves you, not that there was much of it in the first place.
He looks happy, after all.
He pets your clothed sex, moving on too smoothly for your liking. “Sometimes, I wonder. What would they think, if they smell you on my breath?”
He pulls the barrier of your panties aside; you can barely suck in a breath before you feel his tongue, hot and deliberate as it sweeps along your glistening slit.
“My, my. You’re nearly drenched. Does making me suffer bring you this much pleasure?” he teases, smiling up at you before closing his lips around your swelling clit. Your teeth sink into your lip as you hold your voice back, but he presses his teeth to the flesh, almost biting lightly and a loud cry forces its way out. Your hands are wrapped around the surface of the railing, knuckles white with strain, and with each second he spends sucking at your bundle of nerves your moans get frustratingly louder. “Good girl, let me hear you.”
You freeze when voices from the garden reach your straining ears. His tongue pushes past your entrance.
He won’t stop.
You can feel it building in you, the slow, familiar sweep of pleasure ready to greet you, and you know you don’t really want the others to hear you scream as you come. Your thoughts begin to cloud over, and you have to act.
“Please?” you whimper, threading your fingers through his hair. He freezes in place. “Not here.”
He peeks up at you, groaning when he catches sight of your face, lower lip jutting out and eyes pleading with him. “Princess, how am I supposed to punish you when you make that face?”
“I’m sorry,” you say as sincerely as possible, your smile clear in your voice.
“I shouldn’t be lenient,” he mutters, kissing the skin where your thigh meets your hip. “And it’s so lovely out here.”
You reach down to cup his cheek, unwavering in the face of his pouting. It’s the Van Gogh brothers down in the gardens, and you’re sure one of them will end you if you subject his brother to the sight of the Count taking you in the balcony. “Do you really want someone to see us?”
He hums, kissing your palm. “Maybe.”
You fight to keep the grin off your face as you school your face into something thoughtful and shy. “I could...I could show you how I’ve been touching myself while you’ve been away. I’ve missed you so much, I...did it almost every day.”
He stares at you.
“You, mon coeur, are bad, bad woman.” Desire flashes, burning bright, in his eyes. “Fine, if that’s what you wish.”
You can only laugh as, before you can feign innocence, he sweeps you into his arms, tugging your robe closed as he practically sprints through the doors. His growls at the way you lick down his neck are warnings, the flash of his fangs at you arousing you more than you would have once thought possible.
“I couldn’t sleep last night, wondering if I should just give in and sneak into your room. Wake you up with a sweet kiss or with your cock in my mouth,” you whisper in his ear, sucking at his earlobe. “You always like that.”
“___,” he warns, even as his grip tightens. “I’m not joking, my love. Say another word and you’ll live to regret it.”
You nod solemnly. He looks satisfied as you grow closer to his chambers. Just as the doors are in sight, you catch his attention with a quick oh!
“I used the hairbrush you gave me once. Just a little bit–”
He kicks the doors open and tosses you on the bed, striding back to slam them shut. There’s that dark, unforgiving sort of lust in his eyes and it’s exactly what you’ve been craving. You slip your robe off your shoulders as his thumbs hook into the waistband of your panties, leaning over you to get them off as you pull the bustier over your head.
“On your back. Spread your legs, you know what to do. I want you ready for me.” He brushes your hair away from your forehead. “And darling–you will not come.”
Your fingers pause in their light stroking.
“Comte?”
“I know you heard me. Your first for the night will be with me. Allow me this, please.” He runs a warm palm up the length of your leg, and to your slight surprise, he takes a seat next to you instead. “Go on, show me.”
You’re inexplicably nervous at first, with him looming over you, but with the way his hands glide over every inch of your skin, tender yet possessive, and his mouth sampling wherever it pleases–it doesn’t take long before your hips are jerking up into your hand. His fingers caress your soft breasts, tugging at the pebbled peaks, sucking until they appear nearly swollen.
You peek up at him, catching the slight bob of his throat as he looks at the fingers sinking into your heat. You don’t think twice before slipping them out and holding them up to his mouth, and he takes them into his mouth with a soft groan and you take this wonderful opportunity to peek at the tent at the front of his pants.
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he says, but doesn’t stop licking until your skin is free of your slick.
“You just looked so hungry, I couldn’t help it.” He doesn’t argue and doesn’t fight you when you pull him down next to you. He just watches you, fervent and patient, breath growing heavier as you unbutton his shirt before shifting your attention to his pants, tugging them down his toned thighs, smiling at the wet spot in his silk underpants before you help him pull them off.
His hips jerk up when your tongue circles his nipples, his hands digging into the sheets as you lick a warm path across his collarbone, a choked groan leaving him when your hand sneaks past his neglected cock to cup his balls. But as you’d suspected, his patience is nowhere to be found tonight as he groans and yanks you up into a torrid kiss.
“I thought you were going to punish me,” you manage to ask in between his heated kisses, hot jolts of arousal sparking through you at his weak moans as you stroke his cock, spreading his slick along the length.
“Later,” he mumbles, dragging his tongue along your jaw, his abdomen taut as he twists under your touch. “Later. I need you.”
He sits up, his tongue still licking into your mouth, and his hands are everywhere. On the nape of your neck, down your spine, digging into your waist, squeezing your ass. Urgent, needy sounds escape his mouth and send your blood pumping through you.
It’s one of those nights.
You hold him close, even as he moans at the slow rut of your hips against his, your dripping entrance sliding over his length and back, and his fingers dig into your skin as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes, lips never too far from yours.
There are times when he loves a slow, unhurried seduction, to woo you and take his time pampering you. And there are times when he all he needs is to lose himself in your heat, needs you to peel back his carefully crafted layers and dig into the man underneath, to pull him out and hold him to your chest. This man who loses his composure, who throws his head back on a near-silent moan as you sink onto his length, who clings to you as you begin a quick, harsh tempo.
“I’ve got you,” you whisper, your voice breaking, spine arching when he slips in deeper. “I’ve got you.”
He holds on to your hips when you falter, stopping you from rising up and keeping his cock deep in you. “Ma moité. If I could, I would stay here forever. I would keep you in my bed, bury myself in you and never move again.”
“Fu-,” you gasp as he grinds deeper, as if trying to gain access to your very soul, to get his hands on what makes you you and hoard it for himself. He thrusts up, his grip on your hips helping you move against him, forcing you harder onto his cock.
“Mm. Je t'aime et je t'aimerai pour toujours.” You shudder as his honeyed tone roughens into a rumble. He kisses you, hard and fast, and your mind can’t muster up a coherent thought as he bounces you in his lap.
Comte stops to rise to his knees and press you into the bed, hooking your legs around his waist. He continues to push deeper, with his cock and his body, until your legs are bent, thighs nearly touching your sides.
“Hold on tight, darling.”
You’re going to need tomorrow off, you realize in a distant part of your mind as he rears back to slam his hips into yours. Your head crashes back into the plush mattress, muscles straining as you try to meet his thrusts. The refined persona sheds completely and his fangs slip out, and your breath catches in your throat, your cunt clenching tight in the face of the other side of him. His hair is in complete disarray, falling wildly around him, his eyes are all greed and lust, but his hands are gentle as they slip into yours and pin them above your head.
“You’re so beautiful. So bright,” he murmurs, pressing rough kisses over your breasts, groaning at the taste of your skin. And you can only laugh, at this moon turned man kissing his devotion onto your skin when you’re burning inside out with desire and elation, when you’ve managed to draw the moon down into your arms and hold him in your arms.
“I love you,” you sob, trembling with the force of his thrusts and the ardour in his gaze. The anklet jiggles where it hangs over your ankle. You drop your head back, baring your throat to him and you can feel him struggle with his overwhelming need as he whines low in his throat and leans in.
“And I love you.”
His fangs graze your skin ever so lightly even as he pounds into you, and with one last thought of how there probably hadn’t been any point in retreating to the bedroom, you scream as his fangs break through the barrier of your skin. One of his hands slips between your legs, pressing insistently.
“My name, ma chérie. Say my name.”
It leaves you on a broken moan as you come hard around him, your walls squeezing him frantically, and his hips stutter as he continues to suck greedily, his sinful moans muffled by your skin. You can’t stop trembling as he pumps himself into you, mind-numbing pleasure stealing your mind away. His mouth leaves your skin just as he loses control, a warmth filling your trembling sex as you watch him swallow dazedly.
His pupils are blown almost completely wide as his licks around the edges of his lips, hips slowing to a stop as you both look at each other, chests heaving, skin slick with sweat. His blinks rapidly at the taste of your blood, looking half-intoxicated, eyes raking over your flushed skin and wild hair.
“...are you alright?” he asks gently, and you can’t quite speak just yet, nodding mutely in response. He licks the puncture wound clean, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you up, shuffling around the bed until he relaxes back into the pillows with you clinging to him, his softening length still buried in you. “Could we stay like this for a while?”
“Mm. Yes, please,” you finally mumble, and he holds you tighter, smoothing his hand up and down your back. “Feels nice.”
He laughs softly, and you muster up all your strength to shift up and kiss him straight on the mouth, the taste of copper strong on your tongue. You brush past it insistently, tangling your tongue with his as you swallow his soft noises. He keeps you there, breath mingling, smiling fondly as you fight to keep your eyes open, your skin pleasantly warm against his.
His skin is bright with the afterglow, every line of his face relaxed, and you marvel at how unguarded he looks right now. Even now, moonlight falls in through the windows, trying to reach him, but he’s content to kiss the tip of your nose with a soft mwah, repeating it despite your complaints about sweat. You return it, stretching up to reach his nose, and it turns into a swift exchange of kisses until you’re both smiling like complete fools.
“...Did you really use the hairbrush?” He sighs softly, tucking your head under his chin. “I would love to see that, but I can always get you better toys.”
Your responding snort is more amused than disgruntled. “Would that include ones I can use on you?”
He’s quiet for a moment, before pressing his slow smile into your hair, the rise and fall of his chest steady under your cheek.
“Mm. Anything you want.”
Translations:
ma chérie: my darling
mon trésor: my treasure
Mon moité: my (other/better) half
Je t'aime et je t'aimerai pour toujours: I love you and I will always love you/I will love you forever
ending note bc I can’t shut up: the moon was so gorgeous last night, I actually stepped out to get a better look. It seemed to have an almost golden tint to it, which made me think ‘Ah, yes. Comte.’ And then I rushed back in. Yes I’m that b*tch. Romance, baby. its 6 am i havent slept
#ikemen vampire#ikevamp comte#ikemen vampire comte#le comte de saint germain#ikevam comte#will i ever stop rambling nervously in my posts#a question for the universe#ok i've agonized long enough#im posting and going to bed#IM DONE#any editing will have to wait till i wake up#if i f*cked up somewhere...pm me plz#ikevamp#ikevam
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a sky full of song, chapter two
As her friendship with the Princess continues to deepen, a road trip to the Earth Kingdom compels Asami to reflect on her place in the world / Korrasami royalty AU / ao3 / chapter one
Asami exchanged eager glances with Miki and Khiem. Silaq stood by the door with his arms crossed casually, but they were all invested. As soon as the rickety panel separating them from the magic chamber slid aside and Korra emerged out, Miki caught her arm.
Asami caught the other one. "So what did she say?"
"Hey! That's between me and Mistress Meng." Korra winked, while Asami rolled her eyes. "Your turn, quick. She was meant to close fifteen minutes ago but I gave her a little extra so she'd do everyone. At the behest of the princess and all."
Asami almost expected her to wink again as she pushed her through the door. "We'll get dinner and head for the inn afterwards," she heard her say to the others.
Everyone meant the three waiting after Asami, so Korra must have paid the old woman handsomely indeed, and Asami expected to be rushed through the process. Instead she found herself in a smoky little tearoom, at the pointed end of a gaze glittering with curiosity.
"And who are you when the Princess isn't around?"
Asami coughed, eyes smarting in the smoke. "A blacksmith at the palace. One of her companions."
"I see. Married yet?" Mistress Meng posed the question as discreetly as possible, after her eyes had surreptitiously scanned Asami for any telltale glints of yellow gold.
"No, madam. I only wish." Asami bit the inside of her cheek and humoured the woman. This region of the Earth Kingdom was mighty superstitious, and the lady was smart to make a decades-long vocation of it. If Asami could see straight through it... well, Mistress Meng needn't know she was impervious to her airs.
"Very well." Mistress Meng pulled up her voluminous sleeve. "Drink of this vial and place your palm out for me."
Asami swallowed the sweet concoction she was handed and closed her eyes to protect them, while Mistress Meng put a papery hand under hers. She settled comfortably on the cushions, wondering what her fortune would hold.
Already life had taken a turn for the wondrous. They had been on the road for the better part of a week now, though it felt longer. The wedding of the Earth Prince was in another ten days, and Makapu Village here was one of their nightly stops on the great east road that would bring them to Ba Sing Se. Korra had convinced her to come along with her small hand-picked party, rebuffing the Lotus Guard that King Tonraq had offered. In the end, all Asami had to do was rush the final week of her apprentices' training and visit the palace dressmaker in between to have a couple of fancy gowns made—although Korra whispered in her ear, distractingly enough, that the finery was only for Ba Sing Se and they would wander free the rest of the time. So they had, riding down through the great forests of the north, crossing the choppy sea by ship, and camping in the mountains of the northern Earth Kingdom.
"My wisdom for you, dear," Mistress Meng pronounced dramatically, snapping Asami out of her reverie, "is that seeking true love is like asking for the moon…"
Asami's first faintly irritable thought was, that's not a fortune. The second, later that evening, quieter, would be, tell me something new.
"But," Meng drew the word out in a long croak, closing the other hand over Asami's, "it cannot come down from heaven, if you do not find the courage to ask."
Asami made a mental note, because the others would want to hear something as extravagant as that.
-
Early the next morning, they were dallying on the benches in the yard, mulling over whether to take a detour to the lake as they prepared to depart.
"Too cold to swim," said Miki dismissively, chewing on some berries she had brought out from the breakfast table, "even for me. And that one will freeze to death."
She had been chosen by Korra as part of the entourage for being one of the more intrepid and easygoing members of the staff, and they were good friends besides. She tossed a few nuts to Asami, who pulled her hand out from beneath her shawl just in time to catch them.
"You with the reflexes," Miki whistled, satisfied.
On the bench across from Asami, Silaq, bodyguard to the Princess (that was his official capacity), clasped his broad hands together over the map he had laid out. "Well, Mistress Meng did say I need to take some risks today." He winked at Asami, who scrunched her nose teasingly. He was a large and genial man, and had been kind to her since he was first tasked with helping haul her iron to the smithy from the ships that visited Agna Q'ela from the quarries.
"Wait, didn't she say that to everyone?" Korra piped loudly, directing her attention to the table and away from the innkeeper's son on her hip.
"She said that to everyone," Khiem said simultaneously. He had just finished saddling up their packs, and he stood tickling the reinmule's belly for a moment. Khiem took care of the Princess's dogs at home, and the pack animals on the road.
"Anyway, lake," Korra said with finality, and then softened it with a, "We're not in a rush, are we?"
It was settled. It wasn't that Korra was used to having the last word so much as everyone was generally in accord with her decision. Asami pulled the thick shawl around her, enjoying the crisp air. She had missed this—the kind of morning chill that made you shiver in relish rather than fright.
Korra had turned back to the innkeeper's son, who was being introduced to her mare. The child and the white-coated elk horse regarded one another with mutual caution. Asami sympathised with his wariness. It had taken her a while to warm up to the elk horses, who turned restless with cabin fever aboard the ship soon after Asami had first met them. But since then she had taken to the mount Korra and Khiem brought for her, a sable stallion who liked when Asami rested her face in the scoops of his ostentatious antlers.
"A show-off, like you," Korra said later, as they rode abreast, the lake behind them. "That's why I chose him."
Asami scoffed and laughed, not quite dismissively. She tugged the towel from her hair so that the midday sun could dry it. Asami had taken an inadvisable, yet irresistible, dip in the lake; her scream upon contact with the frigid waters had echoed through the forest bounding them, scattering the birds. Korra and Silaq, the resident waterbenders, had dove in without hesitation. It took a little extra effort to warm the waters as they swam, but polar people did it by instinct. Miki the non-bender had fought the cold valiantly, while Khiem abstained, laughing them off from the bank.
"I'm only moved by the spirit of adventure," Asami said, tossing her wet hair to her back.
The others rode a way ahead of them on the current path, a wide trail shrouded on either side by trees twice as tall as any at the north pole, strewn with their needles. The smell of spring came strong from the woods. Summer crept close on their tails.
"I wonder how they're doing back at the shop," Asami mused.
"You're not worried, are you?" Korra said, and before Asami could answer she corrected herself. "No, you're not. You've been having way too much fun this week."
Asami stared at her with a soundless laugh.
"And to think I had to drag you!"
"You didn't drag me! It's just that I was worried. But I didn't realise how much of a break I needed until we left." Over the week, Asami had provided some minor wheelwrighting services to those they met on the road, but for the most part she was blissfully free of strenuous work. Breathing in the clear air beyond the royal forge, she was sensible to sights and sensations she had largely been shut off from for a year, her escapades with Korra notwithstanding.
"Did you always know you wanted to be a blacksmith? I mean, did you choose such a gruelling trade?" Korra said.
"Oh," Asami said, staggering on the question while she caught up to Korra's thinking. "Um, actually, I'm not sure I ever thought about it—maybe I should have, huh? It's just what I was always supposed to do, growing up with my father."
"I know what that's like…" Korra sucked air through her teeth. Then she cocked her head. "For what it's worth, I'm sure there's a lot you'd be great at, if you ever wanted to switch things up."
Asami gave her a humble little mock curtsey, as far as possible on horseback. "And you? Have you wondered who you might be if you weren't the Princess of the North?" That was the title that always went before their company in these parts.
"Ah, not really." Korra sounded recalcitrant, like she didn't want to entertain the trail of thought for fear it might leave her wistful.
It wasn't a mood Asami wanted to encourage. "Well, then let me. First of all, it's quite easy to imagine the improvement on your personality we'd have if you weren't highborn—"
Korra wasn't hard to rile. "You're awful!"
Distraction achieved, Asami backed down. "And luckily, you really aren't," she countered without a beat, smiling her deference. She felt her own eyes soften when Korra returned the smile, disarmed and placated. Then Asami was humbled in sincerity, at the instant enhancement she had made on Korra's mood.
"You'd make a good princess," Korra said. "Better than me."
"No," Asami returned, "that's not true."
Though she meant it, she sounded less convincing to her own ears this time, because she was willing the bittersweetness out of her voice. "Your people love you," she added. "They don't see the slow parts. They see a warrior, passionate and big-hearted. And I know their trust means the world to you, even if you get impatient sometimes."
Some of the levity had dissipated, the air with all its scents was heavy now, and Asami wondered if she had overstepped. "Me," she continued, "I can't talk to someone on the street like I've known them my whole life."
After a long second, Korra said, "You could do the three hour round tables." It wasn't a counter to Asami's statement but a submission; and in responding so, Korra was gently accepting her kindnesses as well.
Asami concurred with a sigh. They would make a good team, then. They did .
The path was widening out now, but so were the trees, prickly branches curving into their way. A pleasant breeze rustled in them, softening the hard sunlight into an ideal haze. They both closed their eyes against it for a while.
"Well," Korra said, snapping off some needles from the branches pushing against her, "enjoy this while it lasts, because we'll probably have to sneak out at night if we want any freedom in Ba Sing Se."
"Uh-huh." Asami eyed her, brow arched. "Could it be that that's why we're taking the long route?"
Korra's eyes crinkled. "It's not a secret, Asami."
"Shh."
Korra threw her clump of twigs and needles at her, and they both laughed.
"You're kind of dreading it, aren't you?" Asami said. "Why… You'll be a great envoy for the tribes regardless of whatever the Earth elite think of us. And the King can't be too concerned if he let the council delegate to you... I mean, how hard can it be to attend a wedding?"
"You know, my mother's hoping it's going to provoke something in me."
"The mission?" Asami shielded her eyes as she gazed ahead to see where the others were. Accustomed to trips with Korra alone, she had forgotten to keep them in account.
"The wedding."
Asami turned back to Korra. "Is that right?" She pouted sympathetically. "She says that all the time. She's hoping everyone you meet with will magically infuse you with dreams of courtship."
"Well, this time, it's my dad, too."
"Oh… "
Korra gave her an exasperated look; Asami laughed, shaking her head.
"I mean, it's a funny thing to tell you when you're literally about to run away."
"That's what I thought! But I guess at least it means he thinks my sense of diplomatic responsibility has improved."
Asami got the impression that it wasn't that much of a bright side to Korra, and it coloured the air strangely again, but then she was startled into distraction. A butterfly had alighted on her nose, appearing from nowhere. It had been a long time indeed since she had seen one. Korra turned sharply at her gasp of delight. Gently, Asami coaxed it to crawl onto her hand, which she held out to Korra.
"These were my favourite! I used to plant flowers just to attract them."
"I see. So was that hard for you? Not being attractive enough for them all on your own?"
It took Asami a moment to understand her meaning, and then she sniggered. The butterfly wove around Korra and her stallion before flying off, and once they had watched it go, she said, "Hey, why are you in such a mood today?" She waited for Korra to return her pointed glance. "Tired of me already?"
Korra shook her head, sweeping her hand through the stallion's fur. "What? I adore you."
They did not look at each other then. Asami's knuckles tightened on the reins while the thrill of the words rose and abated. It was just a second in their familiar repartee, a long and blistering second. Korra fiddled with the bridle on her mount.
"Alright, well, since you're feeling so belligerent, why don't you race me?" Asami shifted on her mount. "We should catch up to the others."
It was for the best, because the farther they traveled from the Water Kingdoms, the keener the sense of possibility became, and the softer and more yielding the boundaries Asami knew, which meant all the more that she couldn't risk prodding them. And since the excitement she felt was for the fresh and familiar landscapes, not just from them, Asami directed her mind to that. Korra's spirits had been high and easy, too, from the advent of their journey—until today, it seemed. It occurred to Asami that Korra had never actually mentioned what Mistress Meng had divined for her.
-
In the town of Tenduk, it had been arranged for Princess Korra to open a new museum. Asami knew that cutting ribbons wasn't one of Korra's favourite activities, as it usually preceded a lot of sitting through—or worse, making—formal speeches. But the palace had arranged it upon request by the town, after the mayor learnt that they would likely be passing through that part of the kingdom when the museum was scheduled to open.
The night before, they arrived at the town's finest guesthouse. It was jam-packed, owing to the impending ceremony, but they offered Korra the final single room. Miki, however, was nursing the final strains of a back injury from a snowshoeing accident in the winter, and Korra insisted she take it with its softer bed. It left her to accompany Asami in the shared room. When they sat on the plentiful cushions over a nightcap of strong tea, they agreed it recalled Korra's apartments at home. Except the night outside was darker than it ever got with snow and ice around, and beyond was a foreign land that held them to no account, far from any castle, the room they lodged in belonging to neither of them. That made it different in a way they couldn't quite discuss aloud.
Once Korra was ready for bed, Asami shut the window, where she had been listening to the cicadas chirp in the moonless night. Korra turned out the smelly lamp. It was cool inside now, and the dark almost too eerie to sleep in. From the other side of the bed, she heard Korra sigh.
"Excited for tomorrow?"
"Sure. Asami?"
She was about to say princess, into the dark and thrumming night, but the circumstances might have carried it to an unfamiliar place, so she bit her tongue. "Hm?"
"Would you stay here, if you could?"
Here? Asami thought, before it dawned.
There was a beat before Korra spoke again. "In the Earth Kingdom. You miss it, don't you?"
"It's been a long time since I lived here. It was a long time before the war, even."
But it was a notion Asami hadn't realised she was nurturing, until Korra put it to words. It was true that the north was not the only place she could have made her post-war life—she'd simply taken the first chance that befell her to escape her father's legacy. In any case, the future certainly held other options, if the future looked the way she thought it might.
Korra didn't push, though Asami waited to see if she would ask again. Instead all there was was the dim whir of the cicadas, and the space on the bed between them.
"Maybe one day," Asami said finally. "Who can say?"
"Of course," Korra replied softly. The way she said it made Asami wonder, and suppress the immediate urge she had to reach out for her.
Korra cleared her throat. "Are you sleepy? I'm not."
"No." Asami sprang on the word, overhasty.
"Let's walk in the garden." Korra was out of bed no sooner than Asami had heard her words. "It looked so nice, and we probably won't have time tomorrow."
After a breakfast that included the fried cicadas Korra had begun to inquire about not five minutes into their stroll, they were led to the museum. Streamers hung from the building with the banners of all four kingdoms on them—it was the first public collection to open that brought cultural displays from across the world, a gesture of harmony after the war. After Korra cut the ribbon on the flagstones in front of a politely buzzing crowd, Asami and the others hung behind while she led the first patrons that had queued up inside. The impromptu tour that ensued, they later heard, had not been a part of the plan, but it proved a hit with the audience, who hadn't expected to hear the Northern Princess regale them firsthand.
"It must have been nice to put your royal history education to use for the first time ever," Miki commented, while they sat together picnicking afterwards. Korra spluttered her agreement, laying back on the mats they had loaned from the guesthouse.
"I just did the Water wing," she said, "so, um, the other hundred books could have been more useful."
"You can put some more of it to the test for the Earth Queen," Khiem said dourly, "impress her a little."
Korra struggled up and reached to steal some flatbread from his plate. "You want to feed me to the wolves!"
Asami giggled and followed suit, tearing some bread. Korra had done well, made the event her own. She was skilful now at knowing when to put her touch on things, how the line should be toed; a sense that served a figure such as herself well. Her mood, in turn, was vibrant today. Asami took the effort to gaze up at the sunset, away from Korra reclining in its glow.
Silaq was cutting persimmons from the trees around them, with permission from the warden that had scouted this spot outside the town for them. Some of the surrounding trees were blooming, while others were fat with fruit.
"Shake them!" Asami called. "You just have to shake them, and they'll fall."
Some of the fruit hit their heads on the way down. Asami took one of the blossoms in her lap and put it in Korra's hair as a token of congratulation, and Korra caught her hand for a moment as it left, beaming. As Korra stood to join Silaq in gathering the fruit, Asami thought that perhaps their moods had switched today. Korra's words last night had imparted an itch in the back of her mind. She bit into a persimmon and the silky cinnamon taste only intensified the nostalgic pang.
She turned to Khiem, who was a rare earthbender who had been born at the North Pole. "Khiem, how did you end up in Agna Q'ela? Did I ever ask?" She offered him the fruit.
"Same as you, I suppose," he laughed.
What did that mean? At Asami's creasing brow, he took a bite from the persimmon and continued.
"My father moved there from Yousheng prefecture to breed elk horses. The wild elk horses in the north… They're not suitable as mounts. When the King wanted elk horses for riding, my father was hired to take animals from the continent to breed with them so they could be domesticated, and to teach the royal stables how to keep them."
"Wow," Asami said. "I see—"
"Like your foundry."
"Yes, I got it," she laughed. "So he never came back?"
Khiem shook his head. "He fell in love with a northern girl." He handed the persimmon back; it was Asami's turn. "Are you planning to return? I hear your apprentices are shaping up."
"I haven't thought about it," Asami admitted. "But I think that thought will be due soon."
"Well, it's not an easy place to settle unless you grew up there. I doubt you have everything you want in the Water Kingdoms…"
No, indeed.
It was midday when they arrived in Ba Sing Se, sweaty and hungry. At the east gates of the Lower Ring, they were met by a representative of the Earth Queen, and another from the Water consulate here in the city, who took them up into the palace and housed them like all the other guests that had been filtering in from all four kingdoms. The wedding was tomorrow, and tonight they would soiree with the other guests, but they took their lunch with the Water consul in the Upper Ring.
The consul received them eagerly, and served them fresh seasonal fare, introducing the latest goings-on in the city.
"All the festivities down there are beautiful," Korra enthused. The party was already in full swing in Ba Sing Se; they only had one prince, after all.
"Wait until you see the fire show tonight," the consul said. "There's more than just gold in the Earth Queen's coffers. Gunpowder! They have the finest technicians working on it. That will be something to behold for us northerners."
Korra's face lit up at the mention of fireworks. Asami was ready to return her grin when she sought her gaze, as she passed her the bowl of sauteed greens. She smiled behind her cup as Korra told the consul all about her pyrotechnics.
"Your Highness," he said, when they sat in the veranda office and rested afterwards, "there is the matter of the wedding gift, and venue, and the list of attendees for the ball tonight with the Queen and the Prince… There are a number you should definitely meet with, the others I will leave to your discretion. The wedding itself will be at the Summer Palace in the morning... doubtless the Earth royals will be preoccupied, so make your acquaintances tonight and then enjoy the day, I say..."
While the consul engaged Korra on these matters, Asami turned to Silaq. "Will we all go tonight?"
"Yes, I think so. It's a party, not a meeting. Remember your titles, though."
"Titles? How will I know—"
He patted her shoulder. "For Korra, I mean. In the palace, in company, it will be your highness —or my lady, or miss if you're feeling brave… And we'll be her household, since we're all in the employ of the palace."
"That's kind of fun," Asami said, and they shared a quiet laugh.
Their rooms at the Royal Palace were lavish. Asami and Miki hurried through the halls once they were clear of any staff, admiring the thick tapestries and the ornaments of silver, jade, and cinnabar. Each object and surface seemed to heave with ancient grandeur. They slipped into their second finest dresses, the Water folk in shades of stunning and patriotic blue. Asami kept her hair down. She had been taking every chance to, since it was an impossibility when she was at work. The gathering commenced in a series of massive drawing rooms, the largest boasting a high, golden vault carved with star maps and scenes from legend. Asami could have spent all evening gazing up. While Korra met with various nobles, she and the others clung close to one another, drinking careful amounts and milling with the looser guests. After a while, they fell into a game of hunting the aristocrats, pointing and guessing discreetly from the seating map who each of the fanciest guests were. When it was time, however, they all had to be introduced to the man whose wedding they had come for.
"Princess Korra! You , my lady, look ravishing ."
Korra and Prince Wu bowed to one other; a shallower and stiffer movement than the one Asami was used to seeing in Agna Q'ela. He had removed the tasselled crown he first entered in, leaving his mantle of green silks to shine, which he wore over a matching tunic lined with gold brocade. If not for the top-notch tailoring, they would have swallowed him.
Korra held her hand out for him to kiss, and then when she kissed his cheek as customary, a look of daze befell the Prince that made Miki clinch Asami's arm and snort. In fact, Prince Wu kissed the hands of all the ladies once Korra had named them to step forward and bow—decorum be damned—and he even offered Silaq a rather shy pat on his solid arm. Korra's eyes were narrowed, lips pressed tight, caught between irritation and laughter. Korra didn't like the Earth Prince. Asami didn't think she would either, but he was certainly a character.
The prince's betrothed, on the other hand, while he did not turn heads, left a more curious impression. He was modestly but finely dressed—the seemingly plain cut shirt clearly made from the finest weave upon a second glance—but he spoke little and did not seem to capture any of the guests for long. Naturally, he was the first topic of conversation when they sat for a bite. Korra's party shared their table with a couple chatty ladies, daughters from some southern freehold, who seemed to know all there was to know.
"That man is a commoner," one of them hiccupped over her sweetmeats. "Nothing but a beautiful, common commoner."
Korra's head rose instantly and she set her chopsticks down halfway to her mouth. "Oh, really?"
"Rumour has it," her sister to her left leaned in with a conspiratorial tone, "he was born in the slums in the Lower Ring and abandoned by his hussy mother. He would have died if one of the maidservants here didn't rescue him and raise him as her own."
The final southern woman, clearly the elder, cast them both reproving looks, as if she was disappointed that they would relay this gossip before the Princess of the North..
"One of the staff I was chatting to in our foyer said he used to be the Prince's bodyguard," Miki said. "Far to go, huh?"
"Or close, I guess," Khiem said, next to Asami, elbowing Silaq suggestively. Korra scoffed at him.
"I wonder what the Earth Queen thought of that," she said.
The older woman answered cautiously. "I'd wager the Prince just pitched a fit until she relented. Love him or hate him, not having his way is a foreign concept to His Highness."
The youngest girl was bored of this now. She turned to Asami, who had noticed her hawkish gaze on her once or twice. "Are you from the Fire Empire, Miss? You have a look."
"I am," Asami said. "Though I was born here in the Earth Kingdom. But I'm a blacksmith in the north now."
"A blacksmith." The girl repeated. She looked ahead, and her chin turned up a fraction as she sipped. "My sifu defeated the master arrowsmith for the Yuyan Archers during the war, and he says Fire Empire smiths are deadly warmongers."
Asami's heart sank in a flare of regret. From the corner of each eye, she saw the girl's sister shooting her a warning glance, and Korra clenching her jaw. Korra, of course, was not above invoking her station to put an enemy in their place.
"It's alright," Asami said quickly. "He's correct, unfortunately. But I haven't been with them a long time. I'm making amends."
Korra grazed her arm under the table. She already felt guarded here and she knew that Asami felt doubly conspicuous in these grand halls. At least the young lady had the good sense to look contrite.
"You look like... a goddess of the forge," Korra said, her cheek in her palm, leaning back to assess the gown.
Asami snorted, her sharp stance before the mirror failing. They had risen early and were mostly ready by the time the sun was fully up. It would take a half hour by rickshaw to reach the Summer Palace, and they would need to get there long before the prince in his palanquin.
"Nooo, don't go all red. See, it's gone now."
"Well, it's warm in the forge," she retorted. "Are the others ready?"
"Almost. Khiem's shining his shoes." Korra rose up onto her elbow reluctantly, yawning. She turned to the little box of jewelry she had brought, which lay open on the bed. "Hey, come here. Do you want to wear some of this?" She held up an elaborate necklace of pearl and pink ruby. I think this matches you better… And you know, they like seeing this stuff, at least the Earth Queen does."
"Right, the heavier the gold, the more highly she'll think of you," Asami said, bungling a mantra someone at the party last night had mentioned. She smoothed her dress one last time, glancing at Korra. Korra was arrayed in deep and regal teals, stretching the dress code a little only as a comely and commanding young princess could. The code for the wedding was simple: green, the colour of the Earth Kingdom, the colour of spring. Asami's own jade gown was embellished with pink spring blossoms. It was oddly exhilarating for them to be in summer garb, and Asami, for her part, couldn't recall the last time her arms had seen the sun.
She knelt on the bed and examined the jewels in Korra's hand. Asami's own gold had been paid in reparations, along with most of the other assets her family had held, after the war. All she kept were a few pieces that had belonged to her mother. Asami cleared her throat.
"Is it alright for me to wear this?"
Korra nodded mildly no sooner than she'd asked. "Of course. It's mine. Turn around."
She climbed to her knees behind Asami and unclasped the necklace, pausing first to sweep her hair from her shoulder. Asami's skin pebbled before the cold metal touched it, and she made her exhale soft. Though she said nothing, Korra must have noticed because she placed a hand over Asami's shoulder while the other straightened the chain at the back of her neck.
"You wear it really well." Korra placed her other hand on her too now, almost down at her own hand. "You look beautiful."
Asami didn't dare look up into the mirror; instead she felt the cove of Korra's shoulders, tucked around her own, close. When she had rescued her voice, she managed, "Thank you." She knew what she had to say next— which one are you going to wear? —but it was impossible not to defer it another second, two seconds—
There was a pointed cough at the doorway. Korra's hands dropped; Asami turned and sat on the bed, retracting to one corner.
It was one of the palace staff; wearing the doormen's colours, albeit in what looked like a special silk for the occasion. She gazed in the middle distance and rattled off, flustered. "Your Highness and our esteemed guests are expected in the reception rooms in twenty minutes for departure." Before they knew it, she had bowed vaguely and scampered.
Miki materialised where had been. "Oh, good. We're almost done, no?"
"Yes," Korra said, searching for Asami's eye, and Asami nodded blankly.
"I'll—go put on my shoes then."
Korra put on a necklace and a glimmering silver coronet. Asami picked up the shawl that matched her dress. They were finished in minutes, ready to head for the foyer. Asami shut the door of her suite firmly behind her as they left.
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THE SHANGHAI GESTURE: A PLAY WRITTEN BY JOHN COLTON - F. Orion Pozo reviews Johnny Colton's play, titled "The Shanghai Gesture." Pozo writes "Still relevant almost 100 years after it was written ..."
Pozo reviews Colton's play and published it through Amazon.com in the United States on March 4, 2012:
I became interested in this play after watching the 1941 movie of the same name that was adapted from it.
To get the movie past the Hollywood censors many changes had to be made to the story and I wanted to see what the original 1918 play was about. Fortunately my local university library has a copy.
Here are some excerpts from a March 16, 2009 OffBroadway.com review of a recent production of this play.
"Written in 1918 and last produced in New York on Broadway in l926 The Shanghai Gesture is a 100-year-old historic American play that has always been controversial for its bold confrontation of still-relevant issues."
"The Shanghai Gesture confronts issues of women's rights, the sex trade, child abuse/slavery, and what happens when one country imposes its culture upon another."
"It takes place in China in the roaring twenties when Shanghai was a truly cosmopolitan city filled with Russian refugees, its people exploited by opium traders and adventurers from all over Europe and Great Britain, and visited by American entrepreneurs.
Mother Goddam is a Manchu princess shamed and discarded by an aristocratic English merchant and sold into sex slavery who can never return to her home. A survivor, she has risen to great power and reputation within a complex society where she runs an elegant brothel frequented by governors, mandarins, and princes who chose amongst women who are beautiful and tastefully dressed. Tonight there is great excitement, for she is having a dinner party - and society folk, the British and other European aristocrats and their wives are coming to dinner.
What transpires during the dinner is hypnotic, humorous, erotic, terrifying, shocking, surprising, sad, and utterly fascinating. Many secrets - those of each guest - are revealed, and the ultimate secrets - those of Sir Guy Charteris - literally change lives. Even Mother Goddam must face an unanticipated revelation of a secret of her own.
Unlike Madame Butterfly, Mother Goddam chooses not to view herself as a victim. Instead she outwits and punishes her male oppressors. This single fact made this play (produced so soon after women had gotten the vote) a great favorite with female audiences as well and it was taken up as a popular feminist tract.
It played the Martin Beck (now the Hirschfeld) for an extraordinary 210 performances and then moved to the 46th Street Theatre (now the Richard Rodgers) where it continued to play for many months more."
There is not a lot to add to a review like that. In the book's introduction, John D. Williams talks about the significance of the title. The verb "shanghai" as in "to be shanghaied" originally meant to kidnap or force someone to work on a ship by drugging them. It is not much used these days but it came to take on the more general meaning of being coerced into doing something against your will.
From this comes the gesture that some know as the Shanghai Gesture. We all have seen it at one time or another. In the UK they call it "cocking a snook."
Williams describes how it is made. "Place the fingers of your right hand extended. Distend the thumb of your right hand until it touches your nose. The little finger of your right hand is stretched venomously toward the world. You say nothing but you think much, and that is that." He goes on to say: "When the world puts its heel on a derelict, when life is just a little too hard, when a man is marooned, by parents or otherwise, before he has a chance to plead, he is wont to accept his condition -- if there is no way out -- but he only accepts his fate after making the Shanghai Gesture."
It has a long history. The gesture can be seen in The Festival of Fools, a print made in 1560 by artist Pieter Bruegel (the elder). This may explain why a fool is pictured on the cover of Gary Indiana's 2009 novel The Shanghai Gesture.
@George David Maynard, A good job of work by F. Orion Pozo in reviewing John Colton's play "The Shanghai Gesture."
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The Exam
→ [1/7] of the Society Series
→ summary: Three societies. Two dead lovers. One test. In a world that prioritizes intelligence and the ability to regurgitate textbook information, will you choose love and poverty or splendor and solitude?
→ pairing/rating: taehyung x reader | PG-15
→ genre: 99.9% angst, 0.1% fluff (if you squint) | dystopian!au & utopian!au
→ warnings: profanity, death, mentions of tuberculosis and leptospirosis, blood, extreme poverty, extremely brief mention of cannibalism and overdosing, undiagnosed depression and mild anxiety, brief mentions of the afterlife and physical violence, this shit ain’t happy pple
→ wordcount: 21.4k
There's a strange stench that permeates the air in the city of Dystopia.
It is the odor of death. The dark, muddy soil reeks of decaying bodies, of rotting rats and excretions. Deteriorating child flesh even has its own distinct smell, but you've become so used to it, you don't really mind it as much anymore.
Every day is a festival for the unusually large rats that inhabit the city. With their matted-fur and worm-tails, the rodents feast on decomposing human bodies, ripping apart the dark, putrid meat and leaving dried blood splattered on the barely-paved streets.
Bodies are everywhere.
Sometimes it's hard to tell if a fallen child is dead or asleep in the towering masses of waste. There are too many orphans wandering lost on the streets with no bed or home to conceal them in warmth. There are too many people who never know when their next meal will be, or if there will be clean water to drink for the day. Hell, most of the huts in the dystopian city are on the very verge of crumbling down.
You're lucky.
Your home has semi-working electricity and plumbing. But every now and then, the lights will refuse to turn on and the pipes will leak—or even burst if it was a bad day.
Most citizens of Dystopia, however, roam the streets, homeless, until death finally whisks them away. Nobody knows what happens after death. But everybody knows it is better than Dystopia.
This place, this Dystopia, was home for your childhood memories. Shamefully enough, it was also your birthplace. But you don't live there anymore, thank goodness. You live in Purgatory now, a smaller city with slightly more opportunities and fewer rats.
But Purgatory isn't that much different from Dystopia either. Death still hangs over the heads of the weak, ready to take their hands and lead them away when the time comes. Purgatory is a wild place full of children and teenagers from ages ten to eighteen. They're there for one sole purpose: education. Rigorous education that may come with the price of death.
It's how the whole damn system works.
Every Dystopian-born must suffer ten years of life in that hellhole; if they are still alive by then, they are relocated to Purgatory where "equal opportunities" are given to all with mercy. At least, that's what the authority claims. Really, you see it more as a ruthless competition. It's not "equal opportunities" or whatever bullcrap the government was trying to sell to the people. You see it as a game of sharks and minnows—a game of exceptionally robust predators and abnormally frail prey.
Annually, every student who is eighteen in Purgatory is required to take an exam. An exam that determines their entire future.
Every year, the highest-scoring students—or student—are whisked away by the government with silk draped around their hunched shoulders, layers of soft mink coats keeping their frayed bodies warm and their dirty tresses bathed with the richest, fragrance oils. Then they are granted access to Utopia.
Utopia, the city of the rich. They breathe expensive air there, bathe in priceless tea and wear extortionate silks and furs. They deserve it. Because they're the most intelligent people in all three cities of Atna. At least, that's what the government says.
It is merciless when they throw every other eighteen-year-old who 'failed' the Exam in the city of Dystopia. You'd think they'd spare their precious Utopian-borns—the children of the men and women who proved their intelligence by reigning over every other student in Purgatory. But they don't. The Utopian-borns are dumped into Dystopia as well. Into a foreign place where the air is dead, baths are infrequent and clothing is for the greatly fortunate.
Yet that's rare. Most often, Utopian students always tie for the highest-score and are taken back to their luxurious birthplace. It's too advantageous for them. It's unfair. Unreasonable. They train from their birth until the last second before they leave the warmth of their Utopian homes for the Exam. Of course, they would score the highest.
One year, out of the hundreds of eighteen-year-olds who took the Exam, twenty-three of them made it back to Utopia. All Utopian-borns.
Still, a handful of Utopians are tossed into the slums—they are a disgrace to all of Atna for they had the advantage and didn't take it.
You've seen those sad individuals your whole childhood. They were the ones who weren't used to horrifying conditions. Consequently, they were always the last to eat and first to die.
When you were the adventurous age of nine, you and your best friend Jimin would sit outside the shabby, repulsive place that you called home and would watch the Utopian-borns straggling across the streets.
They wailed and begged as their eyes reflected one sole emotion: fear.
"I bet she's Utopian-born," Jimin huffs as he points at a girl frantically cramming her mouth full of scraggly weeds that had somehow sprouted from the fetid grounds. Both of you silently watch as her bloody fingernails pierce madly through the mud, uprooting the plants with surprising success. "Doesn't she know those are poisonous?"
You shrug, staring blankly at the girl. "No, she's not Utopian-born. Doesn't look over eighteen. Maybe she doesn't want to take the Exam." Taking Jimin's hand into yours, you sigh, "I bet he's Utopian-born, though." Your small finger points at a young man huddled up against a pile of rubbish, completely naked and rocking back and forth, as if that action would save him from the wraths of Dystopia. He had stripped off his tattered clothes and had unskillfully attempted to wrap them around himself to combat the harsh weather. A simple but deadly mistake.
A Dystopian-born would know better.
"He's going to die," Jimin says, cocking his head. "Let's go help him." He starts to tug you towards the unclothed man but you forcefully pull your friend back, eyebrows twisting downwards into a deep frown.
"Leave him." Your cold eyes stare right past the Utopian-born, gazing at the bright neon poster behind him. It reads Utopia, a wondrous place for deserving people.
And below is an image of a gorgeous, healthily plump woman in a spotless, white bikini, skin sparkling and well-tanned and her hands immaculately manicured. Her hair is loose, glossy and looks like it smells of flowering spring roses. She's holding a gleaming bottle of fizzing golden liquid in one hand and a handsome man's hand in the other. The man smiles brightly, revealing a row of pearlescent teeth as he boasts shiny, black sunglasses and wears a watch made of dazzling rubies and diamonds.
Behind the couple is a house—actually, a mansion made of polished glass with luscious trees decorating the purlieu and the pool filled with glimmering water tinted a light shade of azure. The sky is cerulean blue, and the clouds resemble cotton candy.
Everything speaks perfection.
These identical posters are littered everywhere across Dystopia. It is a painful reminder for the Atnatians who have failed the Exam—even more so agonizing for the Utopians who had been banished from their previous home.
The propaganda posters are the only clean, resplendent objects in the slums. But personally, you think they're revolting.
Your unsympathetic eyes trail back to the naked man. You take another glance at the stupid government propaganda poster behind him before you squeeze Jimin's hand. "Yeah, let's leave him," you repeat.
The pick-the-Utopian-born-from-the-crowd game abruptly halts soon after when Jimin comes over to your small hut one day, crying profusely, his tears leaving clean streaks on his dirt-covered face.
"He's dead!" he cries, fat droplets of tears dribbling down to his chin.
You frown in confusion, eyebrows knitting into a small frown. With the mortality rate of Dystopia, your best friend could either be talking about your neighbor from the next hut over or the other fifty bodies left dead and abandoned on the streets. "Who's dead, Jiminie?"
"T-That Utopian-born," Jimin whimpers, dirty hand reaching up to wipe away the tears obscuring his vision. Although there were many Utopian-borns roaming around Dystopia, you had a clear idea of who he was talking about. "The rats... they—"
You grab his filthy hand before it reaches his eyes. "Don't rub your eyes, remember?"
Jimin nods dejectedly, his head dropping low as his tears dripped to the floor, leaving wet puddles of brown dirt. "Sorry, Y/N, I forgot..." He sniffles, which didn't help the snot that was leaking out of his soot-covered nose. "But the rats..." he trails off, hand reaching up again to wipe away his tears. But he pauses, thinks better of it and tries to blink them away instead.
You nod, knowingly. "And it's not the first time you've seen that happen, Jiminie. Don't cry..."
Your friend whimpers, kicking the wet dirt beneath his feet. "But if we had helped him... The rats wouldn't have eaten right through his guts! They wouldn't have bitten him to pieces or drunk his blood!" he wails. You are silent, never great at solacing. "If we had helped him..."
Time is running out for both of you. You'd soon be relocated to Purgatory and you know Jimin is starting to get anxious for the both of you. He would cry in fear and grief for every dead corpse on the street, bite his nails hard enough to draw blood even though you would tell him not to, and try to help all the suffering Utopian-borns, despite your avid protests.
Jimin had always been too soft-minded, too kind. Death frightened him.
But you weren't afraid of death. Never have been. Never will be.
You are fucking terrified of death. It is the only occurrence that will keep you from scoring the highest, and as a seventeen-year-old, the Exam was looming closer than ever. You couldn't die now. Not after all the years of rigorous studying. You'd skipped nights of sleep, countless meals to get to this position.
To you, Purgatory would always be a second Utopia; for one, the conditions are immensely better than that of Dystopia, maggots no longer crawling in your food and clothes not as battered and ravaged by irritable rats or insects. This city is your one chance where you can prove yourself deserving to live in Utopia—to confirm that you can outlast, out-study and outsmart everyone in your year.
You eat, sleep and breathe your studies, something only a few students can manage to do. One of the only things that keep you motivated to wake up at the crack of dawn and open up a dusty book is the fact that no one's ever secured a perfect score on the Exam.
But you know you'll be the first.
You'll be the first and only person to obtain a perfect score. And thus you will be the only eighteen-year-old going to Utopia in your year.
It is a fantasy. A dream. A goal. But you thirst to achieve it.
In fact, you haven't left the library in weeks. You've practically been glued onto the same hard, wooden chair for what seemed like days now. You have also never ceased to flip the pages of your colossal textbooks. You're quite happy to say that the other students aren't studying as hard as you—most of them have given up by now.
Logically, it makes sense to surrender to the Exam.
Although you're given eight whole years to study in Purgatory, most students use that time to stuff themselves full of savory victuals, sleep in cots instead of in fetid mud and live without the shadow of death appended to their feet. Obviously, the conditions aren't as astounding as Utopia, but anything's better than the slums of Atna. It isn't worth it, they say. It isn't worth the eight years of miserable studying, only to be beaten by someone better (there's always someone better) and thrown into Dystopia without ever being able to live. But 'surrender' isn't in your vast vocabulary.
As much as you hate cheesy platitudes, you're in it (ahem, forcibly) to win it. Besides, your competition is dropping like flies on a scorching hot day. You suspect it's from that nasty tuberculosis that's been going around for a while.
There's only a year left before the Exam now. It's such little time for you to finish reading everything in that library, and such little time alike for the other students to live their last year to the very fullest in Purgatory, the downgrade of Utopia but the upgrade of Dystopia.
But especially for you, a year definitely isn't enough. You're just a tad bit off schedule—you were supposed to finish reading and memorizing everything in the library last year so you'd have two good years to review. Now you only have one.
It adds on to the multitudes of problems that no one truly knows what's on the Exam. They say anything in the grand library is fair game, but besides that, you don't know much. And because of that, you and what's left of your competitors have been reading everything in the library from novels to textbooks to published theses.
As a matter of fact, you're just one book and a page shy from reading everything in the damned library. Your eyes bore into the paper overlaid with equations and one too many graphs, forcing your brain to memorize every detail, every print and word. You know you shouldn't frown when you study. Someone you'd once loved had told you an unpretty, permanent crease would be etched on your forehead—but now you can't help it—frowning helps you concentrate.
Especially now. The library is usually dead silent except for the soft crinkles of paper as students flip the pages of their reading materials, yet you swear at least half of the students in the room have tuberculosis. There's heavy coughing every ten seconds, the infected splattering crimson blood on the thin, worn-out pages of the textbooks. And that's how the disease has been spreading.
They're going to die before the Exam. You swear they are—how pathetic of them to spend the last days of their lives cramming study material in their heads.
You don't care much for the infected, as long as they keep their distance from you. You don't know what you'll do if you catch the disease as well. But in your mind, nothing is worse than the mortality rates of Dystopia. At least no one in Purgatory dies from famine.
Still, there are never adequate treatments or vaccines and you can recall at least ten people who you haven't seen since tuberculosis first broke out. Not that you care, though. In the end, you're just glad you're not one of the diseased. You've always had a strong immune system, anyway.
You let out a soft sigh, feeling the urge to rub your dry, tiresome eyes but thinking better of it. Shutting the heavy textbook with a gentle thud, you place both hands on the wooden table, steadying yourself. You slowly close your eyes, relishing in the comfort of the darkness—you haven't slept in nearly three days, haven't left your seat to eat either. Your empty water canteen stares back at you, begging for it to be refilled. You swallow, your throat feeling unbearably scratchy, but you don't succumb to its desperate demand.
Now you only have one more book to read. Just one more and you'll be done. You'll treat yourself to an actual meal and a few hours of sleep (not too much because you still need time for review). With the Exam inching closer every minute, every second, you really don't have time to waste.
Water will have to wait for later.
Besides, you know for a fact that the last book you have to read isn't too long—just a hundred pages or so. You slowly open your eyes, vision slightly blurry as you force yourself to stand. Immediately, your legs threaten to give out and you have to stagger forward to use the dated bookshelves to steady yourself.
Step by step, you carry your barely responsive body to the special corner in the library that you haven't touched in the seven years you've lived in Purgatory. The unfamiliar, gray, tattered book catches your eye and you continue to wobble closer and closer to it. Family Studies, it should say.
Quite the ironic book to read about in a world where families are ripped apart by the government and their indecent tactics. But it's not like you have a choice. You need to get to Utopia—you've made promises...
You may be broken on the inside and out, but you won't let yourself break a promise.
Wearily, you force yourself to lift up your shaking arm to touch the book's spine. But you gasp, nearly jumping back with the little energy you have as your cold hand comes in contact with something warm.
Flesh, you finally register in your head. I've touched flesh.
Your head jerks up rather painfully, leaving your eyes struggling to adjust to the sight in front of you. A boy. A tall boy. His figure towers over you, and he frowns deeply, eyes bloodshot as he looks you up and down. In one hand he clutches a frayed brown blanket draped comfortably over his shoulders and the other stubbornly grasps the book—your book.
But you don't acquiesce, glaring at him as you tug the book closer to you. The boy glances your way tiredly, no emotion displayed on his malnourished, sculpted face. "Excuse me," he croaks, tugging the book closer to himself.
"Excuse you." Your voice comes out much raspier than you had expected, making you instantly regret opening your mouth to speak. But the desire to have the last book in your hands is far greater: "I need that." You pull the book back.
The boy scoffs—even that comes out as a dry cough that makes you flinch back just a bit. "I need it too."
You hate the parched feeling tickling the back of your throat, and you let out a little scream of frustration before instinct gets the better of you. You quickly slap the boy's hand, taking advantage of his surprise as an opportunity to snatch the book from the shelf. Once the book is safely cradled in your arms, you turn to the boy and give him the side-eye. "Well, I need it more."
With that, you attempt to hobble away with the best of your ability, but you fail when the boy grabs the back of your threadbare shirt, stopping you from moving any further. "Please."
He sounds so desperate, voice dripping with misery—something you were once so familiar with. His hands shake, grasping the fabric... You hate yourself for turning around to see his forlorn face. His eyes are full of suffering, of so much pain—that too is so familiar to you."Please..." he whispers again as his grip loosens on your shirt.
You're silent. It hurts. It physically pains you that the only human interaction you've had in months, maybe years, reminds you so much of him.
"Pleaseeee!!" Jimin drags out, a burst of giggles leaving his throat as he tugs excitedly at your arm. "Please! Let's go, let's go!"
You grumble, begrudgingly dragging your feet as Jimin pulls you towards unfamiliar territory. "I'm not hungry," you whine. "Can we just stay in the dorms?"
"We've got eight years to stay in the dorms, Y/N. Eight! Please? Just a few minutes in the cafeteria? I heard they serve actual food! Maybe if we're lucky, we'll get to snag some snacks!" Jimin exclaims, his cheeks tinged pink with elation.
"Where did you hear that from?" you mumble in protest before giving in to Jimin's persistence.
"The ones who failed," he answers lightheartedly. "I've been asking around."
"Oh."
You can't really say much more. There's nothing more to say.
The cafeteria is larger than at least ten Dystopian huts combined; there are rows and rows of rusty lunch tables and a long, metal countertop with a few baskets of bread on top. You and Jimin manage to salvage some before the rats get to it. You force yourself to ignore the angry squeaking and chattering around your bare feet.
The slices of white bread are only slightly moldy, which already makes it better than anything one can forage from your birthplace. You take each bite slowly, chewing steadily to keep the flavor on your tongue just a little while longer. But all too soon, it's gone. Though you'd denied it earlier, you are definitely hungry. Maybe even starving.
You look up to see Jimin swinging his feet back and forth, his hands grasping the side of the old bench, keeping his body balanced. He notices your eyes on him and looks at you, giving you a small smile. You smile back.
"This is already better than Dystopia, isn't it?" he says, small hand tentatively moving towards yours to encompass it. You nod your head in agreement. "We have eight years..." You nod again. "Then we'll be able to go back home."
You don't hesitate, a faint smile appearing on your lips. "Of course."
"Not dead, yet, huh?" you sigh, facing the boy next to you, scrutinizing his every movement. When he doesn't answer right away, you slam the textbook down in the middle of the table to get his attention—and to spite him, of course.
The boy scoffs as he glares at you through the tired slits of his eyes. Any sense of the weakness he had shown from practically begging you to share the book with him yesterday is gone. The feebleness might've been just an act—a sly trick to get you to help him. "Sorry but I plan on going to Utopia as well. That, we have in common," the boy bites right back. "Our only difference is that I'll actually make it there."
You blow air through your nose, prying open the previous book titled Family Studies and muttering death threats under your breath. You clear your throat before you speak again. "Yeah, right. Please shut up before I regret sharing my textbook with you."
"For your information, that's not exactly yours," the boy snorts. "It's the government's. And you've seen the shit that happens when you mess with them."
There's a sadder undertone to his voice that you pick up immediately. He sounds cocky but ruined at the same time—you would know because that's the façade that you had put up for yourself for years now. You can't stop yourself from asking the question that falls from your lips quite easily: "Why? Someone you know messed with them?"
The boy averts his eyes from you, looking down at his feet covered up in tattered shoes. "More like someone I knew." He shrugs, turning his head up so that his dark eyes pierce through yours. "But it doesn't really matter anymore."
Something stings inside. You wish you could say the same.
"It's only been a week," you giggle, watching Jimin stuff his face full of soup made of mystery miscellaneous ingredients. "Shouldn't you have gotten used to having enough food by now?"
Jimin pauses his vehement eating to give you a 'duh' look. "Silly, I'm going to store all the food now when I can. You know, before we have to go back. When's the last time Dystopia had meal times, anyway?"
"Never, of course," you laugh. The rats or some other pesky rodents chatter right along with you. But they only sound as if they are wryly laughing with you and Jimin. A bit embittered, you kick your feet in an attempt to shoo the rats away—or at least shut them up. "Too bad this place still has rats."
Jimin nods. "I've seen some of them around our food too." He makes a disgusted face. "Think about it. What if this mystery soup is made of rat droppings and piss?"
"Oh shut up. Don't be like that," you sniffle, turning up your nose in complete distaste. "That's disgusting."
"I'm only joking," Jimin chuckles, taking another spoonful of his soup, exaggerating the action and making you mock-gag in repugnance.
As annoying as he sometimes is, having Jimin around is something you always have been thankful for. It was everything to have a friend be by your side. You've seen what happens when people are left alone for too long. They go bat-shit crazy. Completely bonkers.
Being tossed back to Dystopia is inevitable; neither of you was going to stop it. Yet even just your best friend's presence is your very own incentive to wake up the next day with a hopeful smile on your lips. He matters so much to you.
"Let's have the time of our lives in Purgatory," he'd told you over and over again. So much so that you can still hear his voice today, tainted with hope and faith. "Then we can go back to Dystopia together."
You grit your teeth, catching your lip between them and biting so hard you taste blood. The strong taste of iron drives you to focus. You furrow your brows, staring at the pages of the textbook and reading thoroughly, mulling over every word in your head with careful precision. When your eyes reach the end of the page, you're just about to look up and ask the boy if he's done reading, but he's one step ahead of you.
The boy flips the page over and smiles at you smugly. You frown at him disdainfully, but without another word, you concentrate on the content once more. Until—
"Taehyung."
You sigh, reluctantly looking up at the boy. "What?"
"Taehyung. My name's Taehyung," he says. "Just thought you ought to know. There are 98 pages left in this book, so I just thought it'd be better to introduce ourselves. We'll be sitting together for a while."
You squint your eyes at him, pondering over his words. But he does make quite a good point. You suppose you and the boy—Taehyung—had gotten off on the wrong foot. Although he was kind of a cocky asshole, you guess it wouldn't hurt to at least tell him your name.
"Fine," you say, upturning your nose. "I'm Y/N."
"Cool." Taehyung grins. For a guy who's been living in unkempt conditions for several years, his teeth look pretty near to goddamn perfection. It's a little irritating if you do say so for yourself.
You're about to pick up where you last left off in the textbook when Taehyung scoots closer to you. You lean away, frowning at him as you shoot him a 'what the fuck are you doing' look.
He seems oblivious to your stone-cold glare. "Sooo, Y/N," he says. "What's making you study this hard?" he asks. "I thought I was the only crazy one here." He laughs wryly. When he sees that you're ignoring him and still reading from the damned book, he huffs and slams it shut.
"What the fuck, Taehyung," you spit out, jerking your head towards him. "Can't I study in peace?"
"Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to ignore?" he counters.
"Give me the book back."
"No." He grins, pushing the book away from you as he crosses his legs confidently, leaning back in his chair. "Answer the question. Please," he adds hastily. "C'mon. If we stay cooped up reading all day, we'll die before even getting to live in Utopia."
You let out a frustrated groan, but he's right in a way. You should take study breaks now and then—possibly to keep your sanity. "What's making me study so hard? Fine," you huff. "We all have our mad-person reasons. Happy?" But upon Taehyung's disappointed look at your vague answer, you let out a deep sigh. "And I made promises I don't want to break," you elaborate reluctantly.
"Promises?" Taehyung says. "Interesting... You look like you've been through some rough shit."
You scoff. "Me? Says you. You're Dystopian-born too, right?"
"I'm that obvious, am I?" He grins. "It's true though. I've seen bad shit in Dystopia."
"Yeah, well, I've seen the worst shit right here in Purgatory," you mutter. "So I think I win."
"Oh?"
You ignore him. "Give me back my book," you demand.
"First of all, it's not your book," Taehyung laughs. "And secondly, worst shit in Purgatory? Must be an interesting story behind that. Do tell."
"No."
Taehyung huffs as he leans back even further in his chair. "So you've lost someone you love, then."
You freeze. How did he—
Biting your lip again, you contemplate whether to answer. Finally, you let out a small, "Yeah. Two, actually."
"Damn, two?" Taehyung gawks. "Wow. Um, I'm sorry. You weren't kidding about the bad shit you've seen here."
"I really wasn't." Now you're definitely not in the mood to study. Not when Taehyung, single-handedly, in just a few minutes, reminded you of them. "It's dumb, but I use them and the promises we made together as an incentive to study. That's my mad-person reason," you confess.
Why does it feel better to tell someone else about yourself?
"That's not dumb," Taehyung offers, his eyes mirroring your own sadness in them. "It's good to have someone you love to be your incentive." He pushes the textbook back towards you. "Sorry for pestering you. You can study now if you want."
You nod curtly as you quickly open the book to the page you had left off. It seems that Taehyung does have the smallest bit of sympathy in him. You suppose he's not a completely horrible person (as you had thought before).
Sighing, you try to read through the sentences on the page, but you find yourself reading the same phrase over and over again. Damn. Your stomach flips and you begin to feel a little queasy as melancholy washes over your head. Shit. Now you really can't concentrate.
"You're, okay, right, Jiminie?" you beg, frown lines appearing on your forehead as you take both of the sick boy's hands in yours, watching his tense face relax ever-so-slightly from your soft touch.
"It's probably just something I ate. I'll be fine!" he manages to answer enthusiastically. "I'll throw it all up by tomorrow and you'll see me stronger than ever!"
He was wrong.
As the long days rolled by, he got sicker and sicker. Most of your week was spent in Jimin's room. It became a daily routine to watch him throw up whatever you suggested he eat. It became a reoccurring attempt for you to try to calm his sweltering fever. Every day you were more exhausted than the last. And so was he.
You were losing hope, but you tried not to show it. You knew he was dying, but neither of you mentioned it. You were losing your best friend and you couldn't do anything about it.
No one cared either. Everybody turned a blind eye to the ten-year-old boy suffering in overwhelming pain. They either had been preoccupied with studying or didn't want to catch whatever Jimin had. To them, Jimin, your light and life source was nothing but another body to be tossed in the graveyard at the end of the day.
And just like that, he passed away.
You can still recall the misery reflecting in his eyes, his quiet whimpers, his delusional words. You can still remember him. Quite clearly, too. He didn't know who you were the last few minutes before he blinked half-way and never woke up again. The moment you knew he was dead, you'd cried, clinging to his body and letting out the sorrow, the weakness, that you had hidden from him when he was alive.
To the ten-year-old you, his death was a mystery.
But it was leptospirosis. You know that now, after years of flipping the pages of those medical textbooks. It was a rare disease from animals, but mostly rats. Those damn rats. You wish you can kill them all.
"Those fucking rats!" Taehyung slams his fist hard on the wooden table, immediately stopping the persistent chattering of the damned rodents. "I swear to god, they're one of the worst things about Purgatory, other than the goddamn Exam itself!"
You nod in silent agreement, sighing as you play with the leftover crumbs of your breakfast. "I'd even argue that they're the worst things to ever exist. Besides the Exam."
No matter how annoyingly vocal Taehyung is about his pure hatred for rats, it feels good to have someone to talk to while eating your breakfast. You haven't had company in years.
Taehyung lets a smile loose, a boxy grin that has some sort of weird way of making you feel calm. It's impossible to believe that he's supposed to be your competition when both of you have developed a friendship over the past several days. It wasn't easy for Taehyung to befriend you—especially since you've shut out every other person in your life since... since Yoongi. But he was persistent, and you admired that about him. So slowly, very slowly, you began to open up to the boy.
You told him about Jimin, and you have to admit, it felt fucking fantastic to have someone else mourn for Jimin—to have someone else besides you who didn't ignore his death. And now you're just beginning to tell him about Yoongi upon his stubborn urging.
"You should continue," Taehyung says. "You were telling me about your preteen boyfriend?" he asks with his mouth full of bread—his words are just barely discernible and you crinkle your nose in disgust.
"Gross. Haven't you read those etiquette books? Thought they would've taught you a thing or two about not talking with your mouth full," you huff. "And don't call him my preteen boyfriend. That sounds wrong. Not to mention... it takes away so much of the meaning of my relationship with him."
"Okay, okay, sorry," Taehyung says, but chewed up bread crumbs escape his mouth and land on the metal lunch table. You make a face. "But," Taehyung continues, paying no mind to your disgust, "at the end of the day, I just wanna know if all Utopian-borns are bastards or not."
You roll your eyes. "Oh, c'mon. Do you really think I'd love a bastard?"
"Well, you're quite unpredictable, dear," Taehyung swallows his food (thankfully) before he laughs. "You thought you were going to study alone for the rest of your time here. But look at you, with me, sharing a textbook."
"You better not tell me shit like 'you didn't know love when you were ten,' Taehyung," you say as menacingly as you can. "I'm not gonna tolerate shit talk. And besides, Yoongi was definitely not a bastard. He—" you pause abruptly. "Ah, shit," you say, trying to blink away the tears that had suddenly sprung upon your eyes. Your fingers grip the hem of your shirt and you clear your throat before you continue. "He died so he didn't have to deal with bastards."
"Oh, shit," Taehyung breathes when he realizes you're close to crying. "I'm sorry... You don't have to tell me about him if it's gonna make you feel bad. I was joking about the whole Utopian-born-bastard thing anyway."
"No, I want to tell you," you say. "I need to tell someone. I can't just pent these things up inside of me, Taehyung. Don't you know? I'm using you as my personal rant-listener." You grin at him, though your tears roll down your cheeks.
Taehyung looks confused at your juxtaposition of tears and happy grin. "Okay then," he says. "If you're really sure." He frowns, tilting his head. "I just don't get the part when you said he died so he didn't have to deal with bastards. He can't choose when he dies or not—"
"Oh, yes he can," you cut him off. "Think about it," you say as more tears trip down your face. Taehyung gives you a perplexed look, his confused eyes meeting your sad ones. You sigh. "You can choose when you want to die sometimes," you whisper in a shaky voice. "Intentional death."
You've lost your appetite ever since Jimin passed away. But you come to the cafeteria every day to pay tribute to your best friend, who had announced one too many times when he was alive that the cafeteria was his favorite place in the whole world. So you sit down by yourself on the lunch tables, staring at the bread but never reaching out to take it.
Without Jimin, your world is drained of color. Life loses its meaning. There is no point. You were supposed to go back to Dystopia as adults—together. That had been your one wish. Your only wish. And now it couldn't happen. Not when Jimin's not with you anymore.
Large men in spotless white suits had dragged his limp body off of the small cot as you were begging, wailing on the side. You asked them to bury him, to give him a proper memorial. But they ignored you, pushed you away to the side. They didn't even have the decency to respect him, to cover him up with a blanket or sheet. You had to watch his clothes collect dirt and his face drag in the mud as they pulled him by the legs.
Even after they'd yelled at you, you'd watched, followed them as they flung his body into a deep pit reeking of death.
They burn the bodies in the pit every Sunday; then the week starts fresh with an empty abyss for the dead.
You want to jump in the pit after Jimin. Maybe you can conveniently dump your body in the hole a few minutes before they set fire to it—maybe you can be with Jimin that way.
It feels like a knife in your heart when you think about his last few delusional words. He'd told you fitfully, in a full sweat, that he was in so much pain, but he'd rather be in pain than die. He was afraid of death.
You aren't. You are in so much pain, you want to die, unlike him. Ten years of life is enough, you decide. Whatever is waiting for you after death has to be better than what you are living in right now.
So you plan it out. You wait until Sunday, until five minutes before they're supposed to come to burn the pit of bodies. You're going to jump in. Find Jimin. Burn to death with him. Simple.
Not so simple.
You stand exactly three feet from the pit (you measured it yourself, with your own feet), thinking it would be better to have a running start of some sort. But your feet are frozen as well as your mind is. You just can't seem to get yourself to move. You've pictured yourself jumping into the pit at least a hundred times before, so you can't help to wonder why you can't seem to do it now.
It frustrates you. Your mind tells you to run, to jump, but your legs are glued to the ground.
"Gonna jump?"
You nearly lose your balance at the sudden voice that comes from behind you. You quickly whirl around to see a lanky boy with tousled black hair. He's leaning against the exterior of the common building, staring at you with cold, judgmental eyes. He's taller, bigger than you, so you discern that he must be one of those older kids. You scowl at him. "And what if I did jump?" you retort.
"Wouldn't recommend it, kid," the boy says. He laughs coldly. "First of all, they're not going to burn that shit for several hours. Do you really want to lay around rotting bodies before you die?"
"What if I don't care?" you answer defiantly, crossing your arms.
"What are you? Dumb?" The boy scoffs, leaving his place against the wall and starting to walk towards you as he casually stuffs his hands into his pants pockets. "Get out of here," he says menacingly, eyes narrowing and mouth set stern. "And don't come back."
You admit you're slightly scared, but you don't back down. "No." You glare. "I don't want to."
The boy laughs, shrugging. "It's always the dumb Dystopian-borns. You can't be more than ten-years-old. What's got you so suicidal, huh?"
You narrow your eyes. "I'm not dumb!"
"Hm... Prove it... idiot."
You fume, face turning bright red as you stomp your feet. "Shut up! Leave me alone!"
The boy laughs. "I will if you get out of my sight."
Angry tears slip from your eyes as you grip your fists tight. "I don't want to! I-I want to die! My best friend's down there. And I'm going to be with him!" you yell as snot runs down your nose and your cheeks are wet with hot tears. You feel pathetic. But you need to get your point across to this mean, older boy who isn't leaving you alone. "You can't make me leave!"
There's an uncomfortable silence that follows, yet you stand your ground and glare at him. But to your surprise, the boy lets out a small sigh and begins to walk up to you. He crouches down to your level and he wipes your tears (and embarrassingly a bit of your snot) with the sleeve of his frayed (but obviously high-end) sweater. "It's okay kid," he says. Before you know it, he's pulling you into a tight hug. "Stop crying, hm? It'll be all right, kid."
Nobody's ever hugged you like that before. Not even Jimin—because he knows how much you don't like physical affection. But you needed his hug; it was long overdue.
You hiccup, crying out the rest of your tears as the boy holds you into his arms. It takes you a few minutes to calm down, and when you finally pull away from the boy, you notice that your shirt is slightly wet as well. And not from your tears, but from his. You look up to see the boy's back turned on you, hiding his face from your view.
"Let's go get something to eat, kid," he says, and you can hear just the hint of tears behind his voice. And when he sniffles, it confirms everything.
Cocking your head in curiosity, you begin to follow him—
"Wait, wait!" Taehyung interrupts. "Before you go on any further, you need to address the elephant in the room, Y/N. Why the fuck is he crying?"
"Yeah, well, I didn't know then either," you say. "It's complicated. I mean, I only found out the reason way later. If you'd just let me continue—"
"Oh, sorry. Continue, then."
"Yes, thank you—"
"Wait, lemme interrupt just one more time," Taehyung interjects again. "Just one last question." You groan, but you nod, telling him you're all ears. "Exactly how much older is he than you?"
You sigh. "He was three years older."
Taehyung sucks in a deep breath. "Right... He's, uh, dead. But damn. You were into a Utopian-born that was older? You really broke all the boundaries."
You shrug. "I guess I always didn't really give a fuck about societal norms or whatever the shit people call it."
"And yet you're conforming to the largest societal norm in Atna by studying for the Exam," Taehyung points out. "Times have changed."
You smile sadly, shaking your head. "I'm only doing this for Yoongi. He made me promise... So, here I am, trying to fulfill his wishes. Will you let me continue now?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Anyways..."
Yoongi watches you devour the bread, but you're too hungry to care about his incessant staring.
"You should slow down," he says. "We don't want you to choke to death or anything—" he pauses, eyes turning wide before he mutters a "Shit, I gave her a fucking idea."
"I heard that," you say.
Yoongi visibly pales.
"It's okay," you assure him, setting down a loaf of bread to stare right back at the boy. "I feel better now. I don't think I've eaten for days."
"Damn," Yoongi mutters under his breath. "What kind of best friend was he for you to be this distraught over his death?"
"Distraught?" you say, blinking blankly at him.
He sighs, "Right, right, you're only ten. Distraught means sad. Upset. Depressed. All those fun words."
"Oh," you murmur. "Jimin was everything to me," you say shyly. "He promised me that we were going to go back to Dystopia! Then we could share a house and live together as adults..." you trail off, losing yourself in the figments of your wildest imaginations. "We were supposed to have so much fun in Purgatory..."
Yoongi cocks his head. "Kid, I think you liked him."
You frown at this strange comment, crinkling your nose. "Of course I liked him, he was my best friend."
"No, kid. You like liked him. Maybe you loved him. I don't know," Yoongi says, shrugging. "Think about it. Wait no, don't. Forget about him. Don't make yourself sad. Talk to me. What do you wanna do? Wanna go to my room? I have some stuff back from home there. You can play with them if you want."
You squint your eyes at the boy, staring at him suspiciously. "Why are you trying to be nice...?"
"Nice?" Yoongi scoffs. "I'm just, uh, I'm just trying to get rid of stuff that I don't need anymore. I'm definitely not being nice. So you better follow me 'cause I don't want a lot of things."
You don't buy his lie, but maybe that's a good thing. In your eyes, this boy is, indeed, nice and he's trying to help you take your mind off of Jimin. He even prevented you from leaping off the ledge and falling to your own death. You hope he sticks around.
And stick around he did.
Yoongi is bossy, straight-forward and frankly rude sometimes, things that Jimin totally wasn't. But he is also generous, thoughtful and emotional (on a good day), and that's all you needed to stick by his side.
He is so generous that in the first week that you met him, he gave you nearly a closet-worth's supply of thick sweaters and jackets for the upcoming winter. In that same way, he is thoughtful. You took the clothes gratefully, never once having held such expensive material before in your life.
On late nights when you slept over in his room, he always asked if you could tell him stories of your childhood. And you'd gladly oblige. That's when he got emotional. Though you never see him cry, you always hear it when you tell your stories. Yoongi tries to hide his emotions to the best of his ability, but frankly, he's a loud crier, so you hear him every time. But you let him think he's good at hiding his tears for the sake that he's your friend.
One day, though, you come down with some sort of throat sickness, and Yoongi practically orders you not to speak for the next 24 hours. He had his own medicine cabinet in which his rich parents gifted him before their only son was shipped off to Purgatory from their grand mansion. So you were getting the best treatment anyone in Purgatory could get.
Yoongi even offered to tell you stories that night. To repay you for being an amazing storyteller.
"I've always wanted to hear about Utopia," you croak despite having a painful burn in your throat. "I hate that place. But I want to know more about it."
"Stop talking so much," Yoongi sighs. "Do you want to get better or not?" When you're silent, (having passed his rhetorical question test in which the correct answer was to stay quiet) he smiles to himself and continues. "I hate Utopia too. It's not as great as it seems. You know that every Utopian-born is a slave to education? I think the moment I was born, I got tossed in tutoring. From six in the morning to eleven at night I was tutored. Seven days a week, no breaks. It's probably illegal, but my parents had a lot of copies of the books in the library in Purgatory. They made me get a head start on everything. After a while, you start to think about what the whole point of education is...
"My parents always told me that I was only suffering in my younger years—that I'd only have to suffer until I'm eighteen and if I scored well on the Exam, I'd be able to come back home safely and have the time of my life in Utopia. But I just didn't want to become a slave to education," Yoongi says. "I was sick of it. Sure, I'm privileged. Sure, I had everything I wanted growing up, but I didn't have one thing you Dystopians have—freedom.
"When you're studying all day every day, you don't get a lot of chances to make friends," Yoongi says. "I grew up with adults breathing down my neck and telling me to memorize useless facts. That was the closest thing to friends I ever got. I'm not sure if every Utopian-born is forced to live like this, but I can damn well infer it. Anyways, my parents aren't here now, so I can do whatever the fuck I want."
You laugh. "You don't want to go back home?" you say in your sick, gravelly voice
"I'm just tired, Y/N. I'm tired of everything," Yoongi exhales. "You'll understand when you're older."
"You're only three years older than me, though," you pout. "Do three years change that much?"
"Yes," Yoongi replies as a matter-of-fact-way. "I don't even want to take this stupid fucking test. But I also don't want to rot in Dystopia—no offense. I know I won't last there."
"Yeah, you won't last," you tell him with a giggle.
He huffs. "That's real comforting, Y/N."
"I know," you rasp. "Please tell me about Utopia, now. Are the skies really that blue? And does everyone have a pool? What do you eat there? Do you get your own room??" The last question throws you in a coughing fit, and Yoongi looks at you worriedly. He waits until you stop before he continues.
"It was always blue outside, yeah," he says, slowly, carefully as if he was taking his time to form his words to match his visualizations. "Sometimes we had scheduled rainy days for the private gardens and stuff," he says nostalgically. "I think I had about three pools in my home in Utopia, but I’m not sure if other families had them too. You know, I didn't get around much. Always stuck inside and studying." He sighs. "At least the food there was good. Way better than the crap we're forced to eat here. Barbecue ribs with generous amounts of sauce, slow-cooked potatoes in a bonfire, roasted lamb chops, fresh fruits and vegetables picked up from the nearby food-growing facilities... Caviar, licorice, cotton candy, chocolate, cakes, pudding... And if I ever ate bread, it was with fresh strawberry jam and smooth almond butter."
You don't understand half of the stuff he's saying, but whatever it is, it sounds delicious.
"I could talk about the great food there forever," Yoongi says. "The only thing I miss about Utopia is the food... It's really lonely there. I had my sleeping chamber, my pool room and my study room, but I was always in there alone. Whatever. Do you want to hear more?"
You nod. "Yoongi?"
"Yeah?"
"You cried when I first met you. Why?"
Yoongi visibly stiffens. Knowing him you expect Yoongi to wave off your question or ignore you altogether, but to your surprise, he doesn't.
"You made me feel bad," he confesses bluntly.
"Me??"
"It was just so strange for me to see someone else get upset over a friend..." he trails off. "You were going to die for him. You were going to leap into a pit because you loved your friend that much. You couldn't bear to think of a life without him. So you were going to die with him. And that just..."
"It was stupid, I know," you pout. "You don't have to say it again."
"It was stupid, yeah," Yoongi agrees. "And I'm saying it again because I can. But at the same time, it hurt me. You know, I made up my mind to jump that day too."
"You did??"
"Yeah and imagine my surprise and annoyance when I see some ten-year-old Dystopian-born in my way," Yoongi sniffles. "Pissed me off."
You huff. "Well—"
"And I was still pissed off at you until you told me you were going to do it to be with your friend," Yoongi says. "Do you know why I was going to do it?" You shake your head no. "Because I'm selfish and I didn't like my life and I didn't want to continue living in this hellhole by myself. Because I wanted to give up. And also because I didn't have a purpose to wake up to another day, but that's just one part of a plethora of other reasons. They were all selfish. It made me just... feel something when I saw you. And you were just willing to die for someone who wasn't yourself. Even though that's fucking stupid, it made me realize how I've never really lived before. And maybe you were the key to my first friendship? I don't know."
"Wow," you mutter.
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Yes, well, no? My throat's hurting again, Yoongi," you whine. "You told me to stop talking minutes ago."
"Oh, well, in that case, just go to sleep," he says. "You'll feel better in the morning."
"Thanks," you whisper against your cotton pillow. You snuggle in your cot below Yoongi's bed and let out a small sigh. "You're not that selfish, Yoongi," you say.
And you mean it. Yoongi's shown you nothing but generosity. He's shown you that he's caring when he tries to be. Even though he's unbelievably bossy sometimes, he does it for your own good. His quiet demeanor is a façade to the overwhelming emotions inside, and you can see right through it.
Yoongi doesn't answer for the longest time, so you wrap your arms arm yourself to preserve warmth and fall asleep. You wake up the next morning with an extra layer of blanket on top of you.
Taehyung begins to tap his feet on the ground restlessly, consequently making your chair shake underneath you. You try to ignore it for minutes, but the constant shaking is making it hard for you to concentrate on the textbook sitting between the two of you.
"Taehyung," you say.
"Hm?" he asks, his eyes boring into the pages of the book. "What?"
"Can you stop?"
"Stop what?"
"You're shaking my chair."
"Oh," Taehyung says. He finally looks up from his reading and makes eye contact with you. "Sorry," he apologizes hastily. "I didn't mean to do it... I just got nervous. This book is just... It's weird. I mean, when was the last time we put emphasis on family?"
"Never, of course," you say. "I barely even remember what my parents look like."
"Really?" Taehyung's eyes are large as he stares you down with curiosity mixed with just the slightest bit of pity. "Do you miss them?"
"No."
"What? Really?" Taehyung gasps. "You really don't care at all?"
"They're not prominent figures in my life," you say. "It was always Jimin. And then when Jimin died, it was Yoongi..." you trail off. "I do regret not being close to my family. I don't think I said goodbye when I had to leave to Purgatory."
"God, well, that's harsh."
"I know. What about you? Were you close with your family?"
"Oh, very," Taehyung replies. "I had three older brothers and one younger sister. My sister and two brothers didn't make it out in the world. So in theory I only had one older sibling."
"I'm sorry," you say.
"It's fine. It was in Dystopia. Too many people die so the deaths start to become irrelevant," Taehyung shrugs. "I miss them, though. My brother's dead now, but I miss my parents."
"Dead?"
"He tried to start a revolt in Purgatory eleven years ago," Taehyung says. He frowns, shaking his head in disbelief. "I didn't think he was that dumb to actually go through with the rebellion. It was a man-slaughter, by the way. Everyone in his year was killed."
"Everyone?" you say. "Even to me, that sounds severe."
"Yeah, well, it was easier for them. Assumed that everyone in that year was a rebel. And rebels deserve to die, apparently," Taehyung says. He grits his teeth, fisting his hands in slow-coming anger. "You do know why they have the fucking Exam, right?"
"To choose which people are worthy of being in Utopia?"
"That's part of the reason," Taehyung says. He leans into you so suddenly that you gasp quietly. "The government does it to weed out the feeble-minded ones. Haven't you heard rumors? In a few years, they might just exterminate Dystopia and Purgatory altogether. There aren't enough resources to keep everyone alive," he whispers with urgency, and you can feel his hot breath on your cheeks. "So they're trying to grow a stable society with highly intelligent individuals. They want to get rid of the excess. The unworthy. They do it by hosting the Exam."
He looks satisfied at your rather shocked face and decides to give you some space, leaning away and taking away the warmth on your face.
"They're going to get rid of Dystopia?" you whisper. "And Purgatory? That's not fair to the people living there. They're gonna close off Utopia forever? That's bullshit."
"It's rumored." Taehyung shrugs.
"Is that why you're studying so hard to go?" you say, cocking a curious brow at him. "To avenge your brother?"
"Maybe," Taehyung grins. "I mean, I'll see what I can do."
"You shouldn't," you tell him with a frown. "They're gonna kill our whole year because of you."
Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you. "You know what they're doing is wrong," he says. "Don't you want to right the wrong?"
"No," you say. "I don't. I'm not going to risk my life or any other lives to fix this stupid system. The only fool-proof way to beat them is to beat the Exam—by that, I mean get a perfect score. Think about it. It's a huge middle finger to the government. Imagine if only one person out of hundreds gets to go to Utopia for scoring the highest, and, you know, assuming that only one person gets a perfect score because it's that unheard of. If that keeps up year after year, Utopia will die. They'll be underpopulated. The government will realize the system is flawed with time."
"That would take years and years. And a lot of assumptions to make," Taehyung scoffs. "You're talking about one person from every fucking year having the will and intelligence to score perfectly. Statistically impossible."
"So what?" you say. "You think a bloody revolution will solve everything?"
"A bloody revolution would obviously take less time than what you're thinking of," Taehyung says. "There are people fucking dying out there. There are people eating dead bodies. One bloody revolt can do a lot for the future."
"It won't do a lot for the present, though," you argue.
Taehyung sighs. "You know what? I'm sorry we even fucking got into this damned conversation. Whatever. Let's just finish up the book."
You clench your teeth but you don't say anything, merely nodding to show your agreement.
For the next thirteen hours, it is completely silent. After the small argument, neither you nor Taehyung feels the need to speak to the other. There is obvious tension and awkwardness between the two of you—like it had been in the beginning. You try to ignore it, immersing yourself into the contents of family studies, no matter how tedious you found it. Night rolls around and both of you end up skipping dinner.
Breakfast the next day is skipped as well.
By the time lunch comes, you and Taehyung have finished reading and reviewing the last book in the whole library. He slams the textbook shut and slides it across the table. The sound isn't as jarring as you expect it to be. So you just blink your dry eyes and try to steady yourself to prepare to stand up from your seat. Maybe you should leave Taehyung alone for a while... Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore. And maybe you shouldn't hang around him... He could get you killed. He could rope you around in his master plan that his older brother had left with loose ends. You don't want to die; you don't even want to think of the possibility of death.
The only way you can beat the goddamn Exam is to be the only person to score 100 percent. And you're going to accomplish that. For years you've set your mind on this one single goal. Sacrificed food, water and sleep for it. You're not going to let it slip from your hands this easily—not when you're this close to it.
You wobble away from the chair, never looking back at Taehyung as you try to walk away from the table.
"Wait."
His tired voice echoes in the nearly empty library and it rings in your ears. You stop walking but you don't turn around.
"What, Taehyung?" you say through gritted teeth. Though you try to hide the slight waver in your voice that would indicate your exhaustiveness, it shows quite obviously.
"Let's grab lunch together. Please," he says—no, pleads.
God, he must know how much that word affects me. He knows about Jimin, so it probably wasn't so hard to use that knowledge to his own advantage.
After contemplating for what seemed like minutes, you finally turn around to face Taehyung. It surprises you when you meet his eyes almost immediately.
"You didn't finish telling me about Yoongi," he says. "I hate cliffhangers."
It occurs to you that both of you are too proud to apologize over an argument; in fact, this was Taehyung's way of apologizing to you without uttering the words, 'I'm sorry.' Your apology would be something similar.
You nod. "C'mon," you say. "Let's go to the cafeteria."
For two whole years, you were the happiest you've ever been with Yoongi. He made you almost forget about Jimin, but you made sure you honored your dead best friend by visiting the pit every now and then. It had been the last place you'd seen him.
Yoongi likes to come with you when you go to the pit. He's been getting anxious these days when you're not by his side.
Actually, you notice that he's been acting a bit strange. In the past few months, he began lecturing you about famous inventors and world leaders. He taught you the locations and capitals of countries you didn't know existed. He's been telling you the events of history as if he'd lived through them himself. The most annoying part was when he tried to make a damn math problem out of everything.
You only assumed that the pent-up knowledge inside his head was finally getting to him and he had to let it out to someone before he exploded. So you went along with it. And you suppose that sometimes, the lessons Yoongi taught you were enjoyable.
Until it got to the point that he began to quiz you on the material you learned from him.
You groan, eyes fluttering open to greet the morning sunlight that floods through the faded curtains in Yoongi's room. You had a rough night with a bad dream. You've never been this glad to finally wake up from your sleep.
Aside from the sunlight, you're also greeted by Yoongi's loud voice the moment he catches you awake. "Capital of Senegal?" he demands, pointing at you as if you had just committed a crime.
You squint your eyes at him, frowning as you stifle a yawn. You're still cranky from having a bad dream (that you can't remember now that you've woken up), so without so much of the slightest blink of an eye, you tell him to "Please, stop."
Yoongi snorts. "No, seriously," he says. "What's the capital of Senegal?"
"I dunno," you lie even though there's no way in hell that you don't know at this point in time because Yoongi's been making you memorize the world capitals for weeks now. But frustration starts to bubble up inside of you. You thought Yoongi would know a thing or two about maintaining personal space. Making you answer stupid geography questions the moment you wake up for six days in a row was downright mean and he deserves to hear a mouthful from you. "Yoongi what the hell is up with you?" you huff. "What does the capital of Senegal have to do with anything??"
"It's Dakar!" Yoongi yells, throwing up his hands. "Fucking Dakar, Y/N! Is that so hard to remember?"
"Why does it even matter?!" you yell back at him.
"I'm trying to help you!" Yoongi shouts. "I'm helping you learn, goddammit!"
"Why would I have to learn??" you say absolutely confused out of your mind. "You know how much you hated being stuck in tutoring. Well, I hate it too!"
"Oh, shit," Yoongi curses, collapsing on his bed with his hands buried in his face. He realizes that you'd just made an extremely valid point, and it puts him to shame. "I was just trying to help..."
"What? Help me pass the Exam?" you snort half-jokingly. "Yoongi, I want to go back to my home, Dystopia, with you."
"No, Y/N," Yoongi says. "I'm not going to Dystopia."
"Then wha—"
"I've been thinking, Y/N," Yoongi cuts you off, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. You do, rubbing your eyes and trying to tame your bed hair as you wait for him to continue. "I've been thinking a lot..." Yoongi says, "about the future. I've thought about every scenario in my head, and I don't think I'll ever be content."
"Aren't you happy with me, here?" you say. "I thought we were having fun..."
"Sooner or later, Y/N, I'll have to take the Exam," Yoongi says. "I'll fail, as expected. I'll be tossed into Dystopia and I'll have to wait until you come back home. But I'll most likely die in less than a year so you'll never actually get to see me again."
"Don't say that!" you shriek. "Don't even—"
"I'm obviously not going to make it in Dystopia. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and waking up in this dingy room in Purgatory every day disgusts me. Think about how horrible it'd be for me in Dystopia when I can't even stand it here. Then the only solution left is for me to go back to Utopia," Yoongi explains. "And that's not going to happen because I don't intend on learning new material anymore. I'm not a scholar. Was forced to be, but never wanted to be. I give up."
"You're giving up??"
"I'm giving up."
"But Yoongi..." you breathe but no further words come out of your mouth. You don't want to put words in his mouth, but you're scared of what he's thinking of doing to himself in the future. Yet you don't have the guts to ask him about his plan out loud.
"I know, Y/N," Yoongi sighs. "But I'm not bringing you down with me."
"What??"
"You're going to Utopia, Y/N," Yoongi says. He's so nonchalant with an atrocious statement that you wonder if he has a concussion. But when he's staring at you so intently, you realize with a heavy heart that he's dead serious.
"It's too late, Yoongi," you protest. "I would never beat the Utopian-borns... I'm already two years behind the game, and if you factor in the time the Utopian-borns have studied, I'm twelve years behind!"
"It's not too late," he argues. "Think about it. Utopian-borns like me—unless they're batshit crazy—aren't trying as hard anymore. Their parents aren't there to supervise them, and they're probably insanely cocky about how much they already know."
"What's your point?"
"You can easily beat them with willpower," Yoongi says. "And I already tried teaching you some stuff that I remembered too—whether you were paying attention is solely on you, though."
You huff. "I was paying attention," you say. "And that's impossible. I'm not a genius, Yoongi. Intelligence is genetic. You told me so yourself."
"I did," Yoongi admits, "but it doesn't matter how innately intelligent you are. What really matters is willpower. And I have none. But you have a lot. I'm just saying, Y/N. Utopia... it's not really a life for me. I don't really give a shit about education and being intelligent. I don't really give a shit about anything. But I think Utopia is a life for you. It's a life you deserve."
"I can't just accept what you're telling me, Yoongi," you say.
"Yes you can," he says. "I want to leave soon, you know. I don't want to distract you from your studies... And besides, Purgatory's food fucking sucks. I bet they have better food in the afterlife."
The afterlife. It's then when it truly dawns on you of the atrocity that your friend would commit to himself.
"You can't just kill yourself," you scoff, twisting your body towards Yoongi in complete bewilderment. "What about me? I never agreed to any of this!"
"You've wanted to go to Utopia the moment I started to tell you about it," Yoongi says. "You think I wouldn't know? I'm helping you get there."
"But I don't want to be alone!" You sniffle, chin pointing to the ceiling so the tears that are starting to well in your eyes dry away. But it's no use. The more you think about being abandoned again, another person you genuinely cared for leaving you into the afterlife... it makes you feel broken.
"Well, I don't really want to live," Yoongi says. "We're all selfish. It's human nature."
"I thought you cared about me!" Your voice rises two octaves. "We were supposed to spend the rest of your time in Purgatory together! You can't just leave early because you feel like it! What am I going to do without you??" You're sobbing now, the tears running down your face in fat droplets that blur your vision.
"Hey..." Yoongi murmurs. "Y/N..." He gives you some space to cry, to let out the worst of your emotions. Then he encompasses you in a warm hug in which your face is up against the soft material of his sweater and he pats your back comfortably. "You'll get over me."
"I won't," you whimper. "That's a promise."
"C'mon don't waste a precious promise on that," he whispers.
"I will so waste a stupid precious promise on that," you whisper back. You hate him for doing this to you. For telling you that he was going to leave you so you knew what was coming—now you were dreading the moment he was going to abandon you instead of relishing in his presence, his embrace, his warmth.
For hours, the two of you bask in complete silence. You've calmed yourself down to the point that the tears roll down your face sporadically, but not in steady streams anymore. Yoongi runs his fingers through your hair, an act that he only does to ensure you that everything will be all right. It's rare that the two of you are ever this close in proximity, and you want to cherish this moment before he's gone. But curiosity pulls at the strings inside you and you just have to ask—
"W-When are you going to do it?"
"Hm?"
"When are you going to commit suicide?"
"I'm not going to tell you."
You pull away from Yoongi, scowling at him. "Why not?"
"You'll try to put a stop to it," he says. "I need to get through with this, Y/N. You can't change my mind."
"I want to say I hate you, but now I feel like I need to be nice to you," you confess, running a hand through your hair in confusion.
Yoongi smiles, shaking his head. "Act normally." He hesitantly reaches out for your hand, and when you give it to him, he holds it perfectly—not too tightly nor not too loosely. "Just promise me one thing." When you don't answer, he turns to you, squeezing your intertwined hands for emphasis. "Get to the top for me, will you?"
"I can't promise tha—"
"And please don't frown when you study. You're gonna get a permanent crease on your forehead."
"Fuck, Y/N," Taehyung chokes, blinking away a tear that was starting to become too heavy for his eyes. "That's it? You let him just... leave you like that?"
"I feel like I should've put up a bigger fight too," you admit, playing with what's left of the bread crumbs on the lunch table. "I should've helped him. Nursed him back into a healthy mental state. But what did I know? I was fucking twelve then. I didn't know shit about mental health or psychology."
"You know now at least," Taehyung offers.
"I'd rather not know," you say. "Now that I know that I could've helped him... it just feels worse." You let out a deep sigh that takes the heavy weight off of your chest. "He overdosed about four days later. They found him before I did... And since then, I've been alone, studying my ass off."
"I can't help but admire your determination," Taehyung says. "You honestly can't beat human willpower. Yoongi's right."
You smile, shrugging nonchalantly. "I just want to keep my promise with him... And maybe I want to live in glory for the rest of my life, but who am I to blame? Everybody wants that life."
"Everybody deserves that life," Taehyung says. "No one should have to go through near-death experiences to get to it."
"Life's never fair," you say. "Deal with it."
Taehyung snorts. "I know. I'm trying." He pauses, placing a pensive hand on his chin and looking off into the distance as if he were thinking hard about something. "Hey, you know, the best way to retain information is to repeat it out loud or teach it to others."
"That's exactly what Yoongi made me do," you say. "All those random quiz questions throughout the day... I didn't appreciate it then, but I'd sure appreciate it now."
"Then we can be study buddies," Taehyung declares. "We'll quiz each other. We have about a year left before the Exam. We'll review every concept in the whole damn library together. Two heads work better than one!"
"Aren't we supposed to be competitors?" you say. "I'm looking to get a perfect score, Taehyung," you grin. "If you can't keep up with my rigorous schedule, you shouldn't even be proposing this plan to me."
"Oh yeah?" Taehyung cocks an eyebrow as he grins right back at you, revealing his perfect teeth and boxy smile. "Bring it on, Y/N."
Bring it on? Oh, you'll bring it on, all right. Taehyung won't even know what hit him.
Having someone else to study with you doubles your competitiveness, which is a feat in it of itself because you are definitely more competitive than at least one hundred of your peers combined.
Every day, you've been trying to wake up earlier than Taehyung to get to the library first. The only problem is, he's been doing the same as well. You thought you had him beat when you sauntered into the library at 4 a.m. feeling quite refreshed after an hour night's sleep, but it turned out that Taehyung never even left the library. He'd grinned at you, practically staring into your soul with bloodshot eyes and croaking, "I win!" so victoriously that you really had to accept his triumph over you.
But when the two of you start to play a little game of who-can-stay-awake-for-longer, Taehyung has to put a stop to the madness when you start to mumble jumbled sentences in Latin after he asks if you need some water.
You and Taehyung look out for each other almost by habit at this point. It's become a routine for you to wake the other up if you were the first to awake. Now morning trips to the library are done together, and you have to admit it feels much better to be able to walk side by side next to someone who is willing to babble his head off to wake you up a bit more.
Dinner is skipped Mondays through Fridays to make extra time for review. On Saturdays, you and Taehyung indulge in the full three meals that Purgatory has to offer while also finishing up your studies. But Sunday, Sunday is the holy grail of the week. No studying, no library, just you and Taehyung taking some time off (for once).
Surprisingly, you'd come up with Special Sundays, after Taehyung had a huge mental breakdown over plumb-forgetting how to graph polar curves on one typical Saturday night. And the special day has stayed since. Neither of you wants to get rid of something that is the only non-study related activity of the week.
Most Special Sundays are spent in either Taehyung's room or your room. Taehyung prefers your room because you have extra blankets that Yoongi left for you, and as winter comes by, any additional coverage is very much appreciated.
This Sunday, however, you managed to convince Taehyung to hang out in his room—only because his mattress is softer than yours and you've been getting bad back and neck pains these days.
"By the time I'm twenty, I'll be suffering from a fucking herniated disc," you tell Taehyung as you groan, shifting your position on his bed for what seems like the hundredth time. "I feel so fucking stuffy. Like I need to crack my back but I can't. Don't even get me started on my fucking neck."
"By the time you're twenty, you'll be in Utopia and the special doctors will be all over you to treat Atna's very own princess," Taehyung snorts. "They'd do anything to keep the perfect scoring girl alive and well."
"Princess my ass," you laugh. "I'd like to wish. How's the cot, by the way? Kinda feel bad about making you sleep there while I take your bed."
Taehyung shrugs. "I don't mind. I honestly don't even feel a difference," he says without skipping a beat. "And we don't want your back messing up your chances. On the day of the Exam, it'd be worse to have your body betray you than your mind."
"I'd literally fucking cry if my stupid back is still like this before the Exam, Taehyung," you say. "All these years I spent with my nose buried in a book... Only to fail because my body couldn't handle it."
"That's the worst," Taehyung sighs. "But if you stretch every day, it might get better. Honestly, we need to start taking care of ourselves better. We need to reserve time to rest... to take our minds off of studying. Even if it's only one day per week."
"Yeah," you agree. "You know what's fucking sad though? We're still talking about the stupid Exam even now. It never escapes our heads."
"We're slaves to the system," Taehyung bitterly murmurs. "What do you expect?"
"That's true," you say, wincing as you try to shift your position on the bed again. "I don't expect much at this point. Not from the people who've turned the library into a battlefield and the students into soldiers."
"The Exam is the war," Taehyung says. "Losing the war means death, mostly. I see no difference."
"We are so depressing," you sigh. "But it's all true."
"I know," Taehyung says. He turns over on his side to look up at you on his bed. "You ever think about the worst-case scenario?"
"You mean like... we don't make it to Utopia?"
"We?" Taehyung smiles. "So you think we'd get perfect scores together? What happened to being competitors?"
"Oh, shut up," you snort. "We're a team. I thought it was obvious. And I am not talking about not making it to Utopia. We are not going to self-sabotage months before the fucking Exam."
"You're just going to ignore the chances? You're going to ignore the chance of failure?"
"Yes!" you say, turning on your side to face Taehyung. "Of course I am. Do you really want to lie here talking about failure? We shouldn't even plant the thought of that in our heads right now. It's all about victory. We're the smartest, most capable people in our year, so if we don't get to Utopia, no one will. Understand?"
Taehyung belts out a laugh that has you frowning. "Your confidence deserves a gold medal sometimes," he says. "I do understand you..." he continues, "but only to a certain extent."
You scoff, "Oh, come on, Taehyung. What happened to the cocky bastard I met months ago??"
"That was such a mask behind the real me, Y/N," Taehyung laughs. "I thought you knew that by now. I'm fucking terrified of failure and even the slightest thought about failing makes me want to crawl in a hole and just... vanish."
"I swear to god, Tae, if you talk about vanishing like that again, I'll seriously make you want to vanish," you threaten him with the most menacing voice you can muster up. "We're already victors to this stupid game, winners of the war. Don't you dare think otherwise."
Taehyung smiles, eyes twinkling when he realizes you'd called him by his special nickname (that he kept trying to get you to call him) for the first time. "I'll try not to," he says. "But I'm not making any promises."
"Well, that's still good enough for me."
Four months until the Exam.
You're both physically (your back pains are gone) and mentally (you've always been) ready. But your friend is another story. As more days pass, the more anxious Taehyung begins to feel. He's never able to sleep, so he steals a couple of library books back to his room every night to read while everyone else is salvaging every hour of shut-eye they can get.
His insecurities are catching up to him. And you've always been quite loud-mouthed and confident, so you don't understand him very well. Yet, you're a team, and you do not leave team members stranded.
Motivational pep talks are not really your thing, but they have become your thing these past few days. You walk Taehyung to his room from the library every night, telling him that he had nothing to worry about—that he was going to do superbly well on the Exam. Sometimes, you feel like you're repeating the same phrase over and over again to him, but Taehyung reassures you that whatever you say helps him calm down.
But the mental breakdowns are becoming more and more frequent. Taehyung can't seem to sit still for ten minutes without starting to shake his leg and vibrate the whole table. He has to stop reviewing the Exam material to catch his breath, wipe away his tears and relax the tensed muscles on his face.
You let him take his time. You're always there for him to lean on, to help him catch up on the study time that he missed. And he's forever grateful to you.
"I don't think anyone's been this understanding of me," Taehyung sniffles as you pat his back comfortingly as he blows his nose on a scratchy napkin you handed him before. "Back home, my brother used to tell me to man up when I started to have my panic attacks. He was always the mentally stronger one of us."
"That wasn't very nice of him to say that," you remark. "It's normal to feel uneasy, especially at a time like this. The Exam is four months away... Not too close but not too far either..."
"God. I wish I wasn't so anxious all the time," Taehyung sighs, crumpling up his tissue and pocketing it. "I wish I was like you. Not afraid of losing... Not afraid of failing... Just so confident all the time."
"You can be like me," you say. "Just stop worrying so much."
"Easier said than done," Taehyung scoffs. "You're going to Utopia for sure. There's literally no doubt, Y/N."
"You're coming with me," you argue. "Not to avenge your brother's death or whatever. But just to enjoy the wealthy living since we both deserve it at this point."
"I'm not a charismatic leader," Taehyung shrugs. "I would've never been able to help start a revolt like him. I'd really like to go with you to Utopia... If we both got in, do you think we'd keep in touch?"
"Of course!" you exclaim. "We kept each other company in the loneliest of times. Have you seen anyone else in our year who's serious about taking the Exam making friends now? Everyone's too busy thinking about competition."
"What did I say?" Taehyung grins. "Teamwork works, and two heads are definitely better than one."
"Very true," you smile. "Remember when we fought for that book? The very first time we met?"
"How could I forget?" Taehyung laughs. "I thought you were going to murder me with that look of yours, honestly."
"Oh, wow. I'm not that scary, am I?"
"Oh, yes you are," Taehyung argues. "Do you know how hard it was for me to literally act tough in front of you in the beginning? So you wouldn't take me as some kind of wimp?"
"You acted tough for me?" you giggle, resting your hand on your cheek as your elbow sits on the table. You stare at Taehyung with an amused look on your face. "So you're just actually a big ol' softie?"
"W-Well, I wouldn't call myself a softie per se," Taehyung blushes. "I'm just uh..." he trails off. "Damn, Y/N. You put me under the spotlight."
You shrug, grinning as you watch Taehyung squirm under your intense gaze. Maybe you're a little mean, but making him blush is pretty funny. Teasing him is even funnier.
"It wouldn't be the first time. And definitely not the last," you say with a mischievous grin playing on your lips. Taehyung huffs, but his face looks much more relaxed than it had been several minutes ago—even the redness of his eyes are slowly fading away. He looks much better. He looks ready. "Hey, wanna go back to where we left off now?" you say. "If you're feeling better?"
"Yeah, sure," Taehyung smiles. "Thanks."
Goddamn. His smile is insanely contagious. It must be those perfect teeth and that boxy smile.
"No problem," you manage to murmur, feeling yourself start to blush thinking of Taehyung's immaculate smile. "Um," you hesitate, "yeah, so as I was saying before about Einstein's theory of relativity..."
Three months.
Something fishy is going on here. The closer the Exam looms over your head, the more you expected yourself to become miserable—stressed about the last-minute study material you could've forgotten over the years. Yet you find yourself rather relaxed.
It occurs to you, however, that you're only this relaxed because you have to be—for Taehyung. One of the two of you has to show strength to help the other. Pretending to be so strong-headed and confident (even when you fell into the familiar pit of self-doubt), helped you actually become confident in your knowledge and predestined success. There's really nothing to worry about, you tell yourself and Taehyung. If it's not the two of us, then it can't be anyone else.
The more you comfort Taehyung, the more he opens up to you, and the more you open up to him. Your friendships in the past have always been a little lopsided—with Jimin, you constantly comforted him, cared for him, and with Yoongi, he had been the one to take care of you. For once in your life, you had a relationship in which you both gave and took; Taehyung is your balance. The in-between of Jimin and Yoongi.
The platonic relationship with Jimin is mirrored in your relationship with Taehyung, but sometimes blush creeps up your cheeks when Taehyung teases you back or when your hands graze each other. So maybe you're not completely platonic with him.
And maybe you're just missing someone to love.
"Do you think we'd be happier if we just... never studied for the Exam?" Taehyung whispers to you as you lie side by side on your bed. The midnight moon is bright enough to illuminate just a sliver of Taehyung's face as he stares at the ceiling of your room pensively. "We would be hanging out... never going to the library... Making friends..."
You hum thoughtfully. "I don't know," you say. "I guess maybe we would be happier—just for the eight years we're in Purgatory, anyway."
"That's right," Taehyung says. "That's a good point, actually. I feel like what we're doing right now is right. We're suffering now to make gains later. And..." he trails off. "And... um, if we don't make it, at least we'll know that we tried."
You nod. "Yeah, I guess. It would be better than being tossed back into Dystopia and wondering for the rest of our lives what would've happened if we did study for the Exam."
"Exactly," Taehyung says. "I think it's crazy that we only have three months left," Taehyung says. "But weirdly... I feel less stressed than before. Maybe your optimistic preachings are getting to my head," he laughs quietly, nudging your shoulder playfully.
"Me? Optimistic?" you snort. "That's the first."
"It's true," Taehyung muses. "My anxiety isn't as bad as before, and I'm pretty sure you had a part to play in that."
"In three months, you won't have any anxiety ever again," you reassure him. "You won't even need to hear me babble on about optimism and self-confidence."
"And we'll be having the time of our lives in Utopia," Taehyung breathes.
You smile to yourself, nodding silently. The two of you let the silence consume you, letting Taehyung's last words echo in your head; it's a good way to end the conversation—on a positive note. A lasting note of hope and faith.
It's then when you feel something warm on your hand. It takes you a moment to realize it's flesh. It takes another moment for you to realize it's Taehyung's hand. When you don't flinch away, he quietly almost hesitantly encompasses your hand in his. Delicately, your fingers intertwine and lock perfectly together.
Immediately, your cheeks heat up but you refuse to speak about it. Reassurance floods through you as the two of you lay side by side in the comforting darkness of your room with your hands held tightly together.
And neither of you speak until the sun peeks out from the horizon to paint the skies with another morning, another day. You don't need to talk to Taehyung to know he's thinking the same thing as you.
We'll have the time of our lives in Utopia.
Two months.
The last-minute crammers crowd the library so much that there is a line to enter it. You and Taehyung found a very effective way to battle the sudden influx of students, though. Every day, the two of you enter the library as early as three in the morning (to ensure that little to nobody was there) and take six to seven books with you, hiding them under your jackets and sweaters.
Studying in your rooms is much better.
There are less judgmental eyes, fewer chances of catching a stupid cold that's been making its way through the younger kids in Purgatory and you and Taehyung can lounge on the beds when you get tired of sitting straight.
Two months to the Exam is shockingly close, so close that your back pains have been plaguing you once more. Taehyung tells you to stop slouching when you sit, but you find it hard to sit straight and read the tiny text of the textbooks. So you end up ignoring him.
But on some days, it hurts for you to turn your body, your back aching to the extremity that you started believing one uncalculated movement could leave you paralyzed for the rest of your life. It's on those days that you wish you listened to Taehyung earlier. You push on though, too stubborn to admit to Taehyung that he's right and too impatient to try to fix your pain at such an urgent time.
Except you're not too good at hiding your discomfort and Taehyung catches onto you.
"We should take a break," he says, closing an astrophysics textbook and practically tossing it over his head.
When you hear the loud thump of it hitting against the wall, you gasp. "Tae! You can't just throw the fucking book. We're not even supposed to have these in our rooms!"
"Maybe that was a bad idea," Taehyung says, fidgeting his hands. "A little too late now, though, isn't it?" He shrugs. "We need a break."
"I'm fine! I swear!" you say. "We'll study for a few more hours."
"Your back's killing you, isn't it?"
You scoff. "N-No!"
"You stuttered."
You groan, wincing quietly as you try to sit up straight. "I'm not gonna die because of this. I think I can keep going."
"If you don't fix that now, you probably won't be able to sit down for four hours to take the Exam," Taehyung tells you. He takes your book and throws it over his head, making you grimace when it thuds against the wall. "I'm gonna loosen your back muscles!" he declares.
"What are you gonna do? Step on my back and make it crack?" you snort. When you see that Taehyung actually looks like he's contemplating it, you quickly say, "Please don't."
"Don't worry. I'll try not to make it hurt," Taehyung grins. You look at him so threateningly that he has to raise both of his hands defensively. "Oh, c'mon! I'm trying to help."
You give him a nervous look. "So what? You're gonna give me a massage?"
"It'll help!" Taehyung says. "Just get all comfy and lay flat on the bed. Stomach on the covers, please."
The mere thought of his hands roaming on your back makes your face heat up. God, this is going to be intimate. Maybe that's why Taehyung suggested it... and maybe that's why you're actually complying with him.
Hesitantly, you situate yourself on the bed, laying your face on your arms. "Just my back," you tell him.
"Yeah, of course," he says. "I have credentials, technically."
"Oh?"
"I found a magazine about it," Taehyung says. "So I'm very much qualified."
"Oh god."
You hear Taehyung rustle behind you and you try to twist your body to see what he's doing but your back prevents you from moving. In frustration, you ask, "What are you doing?"
"Rolling up my sleeves and staring at your back. Why?"
"Why the fuck are you staring at my back?"
"I was trying to figure out where it hurts," he answers, "but I guess I could've just asked you instead."
You snort. "God, Tae. It honestly hurts everywhere. But especially around the shoulder blade area."
You can just imagine Taehyung nodding professionally, with his sleeves rolled up and his hair slicked back to prevent stray strands from poking at his eyes.
"Okay, I'm gonna put pressure there," he says. "Deep breath out..."
You obey him, closing your eyes and blowing air out of your lips, simultaneously relaxing your body. The moment you feel his hands on your back, goosebumps checker your arms. No one's ever been this close to you; no one's bothered to be this intimate with you.
"Feel good?" Taehyung asks.
He sounds closer to you than you expected him to be, and your breath hitches quietly. "Y-Yeah," you stutter. "A little lower."
Taehyung listens, rubbing your sore back with such care and calculated pressure that you have to bite your lip from letting rather embarrassing sounds from escaping your mouth. You don't realize how tense your body was until Taehyung calls you out. "You're so tense, Y/N," he remarks, his hands dealing with the clumped muscles on your back. "Try to relax."
You're red-faced, unable to admit to him that if you do as he says, you might just let out a moan and it'll really be game over then. You are not going to embarrass yourself in front of him because Taehyung would never let you live that down. And if you're really going to spend your days in Utopia with him, you'd rather not let him have any memories he can use to tease you.
"I am relaxing," you lie through your teeth. But when Taehyung gets to a particularly sensitive part on your back, you hiss through your teeth. "Ow..."
Taehyung immediately stops his ministrations. "Do you want me to stop for a second?" he asks with so much worry laced into his voice that you almost feel guilty for making him question himself.
"No!" you exclaim. "I mean, no. I'm fine. I guess my back was much worse than I thought..."
Taehyung laughs. "Well, if I do this for you occasionally and you stretch every day, you'll be in good condition again."
"Thanks," you mutter. "Really, Tae, I mean it."
You can just imagine the boy grinning ear to ear behind you. Though you expected him to say something cocky or silly, you received silence in response. "Tae?" Gritting your teeth, you try turning over on your back, which was easier than expected—Taehyung's massage had already done wonders.
With a little oof, you flip over to finally get a good look at Taehyung. "Cat got your tongue??" you tease him, raising an eyebrow and gazing at his rather blank face.
"No... no," he answers right away. "For a second I thought..." he trails off. His handsome face morphs into a look of worry, of nervousness.
"You thought...?"
"I thought I..." he trails off again, much to your impatience.
"Oh, come on, Tae," you sigh. "Spit it out!"
The boy grins, shaking his head. "For a second, I thought I heard you moan, Y/N. Enjoying yourself a little too much, aren't we?"
Okay, you had not expected that. The color quickly drains from your face and your mouth drops open rather unflatteringly. You sputter to think of an excuse, any excuse that would whisk you away from the embarrassment consuming you at this moment.
"I'm just kidding," Taehyung says as he nearly falls over in a fit of laughter. "You should see your face!"
"That's not funny!" you yell, sitting up on your elbows and glaring at the laughing boy.
"No, it was definitely funny," he says, grabbing your hand and helping you sit up. The action brings heat to your cheeks and you have to look away. "Oh, c'mon," Taehyung whines, "learn some humor, Y/N."
He must mistake your embarrassment as anger. You'll play along.
"You can literally shut up," you huff.
"Damn, you're not very scary when you pretend you're mad," Taehyung says, grinning mischievously at you.
"I am not pretending!"
"You're still holding my hand, Y/N," he teases.
Oh shit. He's right. That's the second time that's happened in one month. Is it strange to seek physical comfort? Or is it strange to feel so comfortable with Taehyung? "I-I," you stutter embarrassingly, unsure if you can even finish your own sentence when Taehyung interrupts you.
"It's okay, Y/N," he says. "I don't mind holding your hand."
You gape at him in shock—so much so that you're sure you don't look too attractive at the moment with your mouth hanging open and your eyes bulging.
Taehyung tightens his grip on your hand as he tugs you closer to him. His eyes sparkle with something you recognize as mirth, which is funny to see in a student's eyes just two months before the Exam.
Hm. You like the way his warm hand encompasses yours, and you adore the way he stares into your eyes as if he knows you and cares for you.
Before you know it, you're breathing out a rapid, "I don't mind holding your hand either."
You didn't know it was possible for Taehyung to grin even wider but sometimes even you're wrong.
One month.
This is the official crunch time. The time when existing contenders of the Exam become vicious and violent to ward off competition. The time when those who never cared for the Exam begin to host parties to live their best and lasting moments in glee. The time when some cocky Utopians begin to study—they think they're so above everyone else that they only need one month to prepare.
But you and Taehyung relish together in the time left in Purgatory together. You'll see him again in Utopia, but Purgatory is the place where you met him and got to know him. It's special, no matter how much you hate the dingy library and cramped dorms. It's special because, without the given situations, you would've never even met Taehyung. You would've spent the last year in Purgatory alone, haunted by the thoughts of Jimin and Yoongi. You couldn't have survived. Or maybe you could've. But Taehyung's helping you survive with a huge smile on your face. And happiness has never been so close to your fingertips.
Your hands are intertwined with his larger ones as the two of you stand against the wall of the building, staring into the empty pit of the dark abyss.
At this point, you're not quite sure where you stand with Taehyung, but you don't care as long as he's here to comfort you every day and you're there to hold his hand.
The cozy wool of Yoongi's sweater keeps you warm in the brisk night air as does Taehyung's presence right next to you. You look out at the pit, and for once, your stomach does not sink with misery. Paying your respects to the dead loved ones has never been this peaceful before.
"Do you think they're watching over you?" Taehyung whispers, judging you softly as he gazes up at the sky dotted with nighttime stars. "Maybe they're wishing you the best on the Exam."
"I actually have no idea..." you say, looking up at the sky with Taehyung and squeezing his hands. "But I miss them."
"You'll reunite with them one day," Taehyung tells you.
"Yeah," you say, "I definitely will."
"In the meantime, I bet Jimin's having the best time eating good meals and getting good sleep on a comfy bed..." Taehyung trails off as he looks at you. "And I hope Yoongi found his happiness by now."
You nod to yourself. "Me too, Tae."
"Only a month left, Y/N," he answers. "And strangely, this is the most peaceful I've been in my whole life."
When you look up, you find that Taehyung's already staring right back at you. A small smile stretches across your cracked lips. "Trust me, it'll be even more peaceful on the day that we're finally admitted into Utopia. We're in this together, right?"
"Definitely," Taehyung says. "I'm not nervous anymore. Not since you convinced me that I don't have to be afraid."
"Still gonna start a violent revolution?" you whisper. "Follow in your brother's footsteps?"
"Not now, not ever," he answers. "The system works. Why would I bother changing it when the people who truly deserve it are going to Utopia? I'm not brave enough to revolt... And I'm not putting you at risk for my dead brother."
"Thank you... Tae, that means a lot," you say. "Do you ever think there will be another revolution, though?"
"There are always revolutions," he replies. "There will always be more revolutions. Not everyone can always be completely satisfied with the authority's actions. It is what it is. Even if I have to take the brunt of it."
"You won't," you tell him. "We'll be long gone in Utopia before that happens."
"Y/N..." Taehyung mutters. He turns you around to face him, studying your features before pulling you in for an embrace. "I know you don't like it when I talk about this... but," he pauses, unsure. Yet he takes your silence as the cue to continue on. "In the case that we are separated after the Exam... In the case that something goes wrong... we... we should just continue on with our lives."
"And ignore whatever separated us?" you murmur against his shoulder. "We won't have to worry about that though. I told you not to worry. We're going to Utopia."
"I'm saying, just in case," Taehyung whispers. His hands run through your hair as he rests his chin on your shoulder. "But I'm sure you're right. We'll be in Utopia in no time."
You hum, basking in the warmth of Taehyung's arms. "Of course."
One week.
The library is swarming with teenagers in your year, desperately fighting over books and arguing over facts. It's funny only because you and Taehyung had once been in that state of animosity. It seems such a long time ago, though.
You and Taehyung lounge about in your room, reiterating textbook information out loud to each other over and over again so the material is ingrained in your memories. After a while, it occurs to both of you that you know too well about every book in the whole library. It's no use regurgitating the same information repeatedly when you already know it. So the two of you spend more and more time talking about your futures.
"Do you think they'll let me work as a family counselor when we get to Utopia?" Taehyung asks as he tosses another textbook against the door to your room.
You laugh when he hits the target on the door and shrug. "I don't know, honestly. Do you think they even have family counseling there?"
"You're right," Taehyung scoffs, shaking his head. "We know so little about the place we want to be in so badly."
"Maybe the more we know of it, the less we'll want to be in it," you say. "It's like that thing... that saying..."
"Ignorance is bliss?"
"Yeah, that," you say. "I'm sure we'll have good things to do in Utopia, though. Whether there is a family counselor position or not."
"But I guess we'll have to find out in a week."
One day.
You feel sudden unrest in the air. People are biting their fingernails so hard, they bleed. Others are pulling out their hairs. Some are picking at their scabs.
You and Taehyung hold each other the whole day, whispering little facts here and there to ensure complete memorization. You would be lying if you said you weren't the slightest bit nervous. Yes, you're intelligent, yes, you deserve to be in Utopia and yes, you've been diligent for years... but Taehyung's right. There are some scenarios that might just happen.
Maybe you and Taehyung earn perfect scores along with six others. Or maybe you and Taehyung earn the same scores as fifteen others. Or maybe you and Taehyung don't earn the same scores at all, leaving you separated forever.
You try not to dwell on the negativities too much. After all, it's no use to think of such thoughts anyways, they'll only distract you while taking the most important test of all time. Positive thoughts, only.
Tomorrow will be the very last day in Purgatory. For four hours, you and the hundreds of other students in your year will take a life-changing test. The Exam results will be kept confidential for a painstaking two hours after the final student finishes the Exam. Then men in white suits will whisk away the highest-scoring ones without another word. You will know when you didn't score the highest. Because the men in white will not give you a second look. They will walk past you like you are the scum of the earth. You've seen it happen; you've seen how much that can break someone.
You swear that you will not be broken. You will be the victor who is escorted out with the men in white. You will be accepted into a wealthy society. You promised Yoongi. And Jimin would've wanted to see you like this.
Most of all, you and Taehyung are in this together.
You visit the pit with him in the dead of the night one last time. There are already a few dead bodies piled up in the dark abyss and the stench of death protrudes up your nose quite uncomfortably, but you manage to ignore it. This will be the last time that you will see the last place you saw Jimin and Yoongi. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't be here, so confident about acing the Exam with another man you see your future with.
When you close your eyes, you can imagine your ten-year-old self standing at the edge of the pit, contemplating jumping to be with Jimin. You can see Yoongi scoffing at your stupidity before taking you into his arms and reassuring you. You can see your ten-year-old self crying. You can see a younger version of Yoongi crying. And every year after Yoongi's death, you've visited the pit by yourself. Until this year. Until you met Taehyung. And now you're not so alone anymore.
"Are you tired?" Taehyung asks, placing a warm hand on your cheek.
Your eyes flutter open immediately and you shake your head. "No, I was just thinking. I don't think I'm going to miss this place, but I'm going to miss the memories I made here." You fist the fabric of your sweater—Yoongi's old sweater, which is surprisingly still pretty large around your frail, petite frame. "It's too bad I don't really have a token of remembrance with Jimin..."
"He was all of your childhood," Taehyung soothes you. "I'm pretty sure you don't forget your childhood best friends."
"That's true..." you sigh. "God, I really don't want to forget anything that happened in my life. I need to remember all of this," you gesture towards you and Taehyung. "So we can recall it in the future."
"You'll remember us for sure," he says. "How can you forget? When you'll see me every day, pestering you for the rest of your life?" Taehyung teases, poking at your cheek playfully.
You roll your eyes. "Fun."
"Damn right," he coos, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "We deserve the fun."
"I know," you say, smiling at his unfiltered flirtiness. "C'mon," you tell him, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the building, "we should sleep early today."
"Good idea," Taehyung giggles. "To getting perfect scores tomorrow!" he yells to the sky, his eyes squeezed shut as he dwells in the last few euphoric moments of being in the fresh, night air before being tugged into the dorms by you.
Your heart flutters when he grins widely at you, revealing his row of pearly whites. Damn. You used to hate those too-perfect teeth, but now you love them as much as you... god, as much as you might love him.
To getting perfect scores tomorrow indeed.
One hour.
One hour before the Exam, everyone is lined up to enter their own private room, which is barely a room at all from what you've heard. The space is hardly enough to fit a desk, but it's decorated with bright fluorescent lights and spotlessly white walls. Apparently, it looks more like a mental asylum than an Exam room.
Some may be sensitive to such a small, suffocating place, but you don't really mind. As long as the information is in your head and you don't come down with amnesia in the middle of the Exam, you're fine. You're more than fine. You're going to win this thing—with Taehyung of course.
You and Taehyung hold each other's hands, strangely not as nervous as the jittery teens around you. It's strange for the two of you to be in silence for so long, but it seems fitting in such a loud environment. You probably couldn't hear each other even if you did speak.
There are peers who are already crying. Those who are missing because they jumped into the pit the night before. Those who are physically unwell and have failed to take care of their bodies. Those who look confident on the outside but their eyes brim with fear and uncertainty. And then there is you and Taehyung—radiating confidence.
Taehyung squeezes your hand when the men in white come into the halls, starting to drag the students away by random to shove them into the private Exam rooms. The process takes forever, according to the others, given that there are hundreds of students and hundreds of small rooms.
"It's hilarious how they haven't come up with a more efficient system," you whisper to Taehyung, shaking your head in disdain. "You'd think after taking away the smartest people in Atna that they'd somehow make this process less time-consuming. But they didn't."
"What?" Taehyung whispers back, looking confused as he sees you talking but he can't hear a single word.
"It's hilarious how—" you stop yourself, "NEVER MIND," you say, raising your voice. He wouldn't be able to hear you even if you did yell. And you weren't going to risk a sore throat before the Exam.
Taehyung nods at you, squeezing your hand. The two of you are reduced back into a state of silence as you watch your peers being taken away before you. The men in white are getting closer and closer, and for the first time, you're nervous. You've waited six years for this moment. Four hours are going to decide your future.
Taehyung must sense the tenseness building up in your shoulders because he places his hands on them, wordlessly telling you to relax. You thought in the last moments, you'd be comforting him, but you suppose it's the other way around.
The tables have turned.
The two of you are closer to the men in white than ever. Both of you are going to be whisked away any second now. Taehyung turns you to face him and hands you a tiny ball of paper, grinning.
He mouths something that you do not hear over the incessant roar of students, but you can make out exactly what he says. 'I'll see you in Utopia.'
The small amount of pressure on your shoulders is immediately lifted. 'I'll see you in Utopia,' you mouth back, tightly clenching your fist around the tiny ball of paper he had given you. He gives you a bright, reassuring smile before a man in white takes him away. You watch him leave, mirroring his smile and letting out a deep breath.
When a man in white finally whisks you away into your cramped Exam room, you can't help but feel reinvigorated. Even if your desk is shaky and your chair squeaks when you shift in it, you're absolutely hung up on the fact that you need to finish the Exam as quickly and carefully as possible to read whatever Taehyung had written on the small piece of paper.
The countdown commences, the camera in the room zooms in and out to check if you were keeping your integrity... the Exam booklet sits in front of you.
God, you're so ready.
Confidence surges through your body. You're going to make it out alive. You're sure of it.
Well, that wasn't so bad at all.
You don't want to brag, but the Exam was a piece of cake. The questions were never about understanding the material—instead, they focused on the specifics. The stuff you couldn't common-sense your way out of. The stuff that you either knew or didn't know. But you're a strong memorizer so the questions—even the oddly specific ones—were easy.
The men in white already took your Exam booklet away to score it. Now you're forbidden to leave the testing room for two hours while they grade it. But it's boring in here.
Your neck is a bit sore from looking down at the paper and your fingers ache from gripping your pencil. Maybe once you get to Utopia, Taehyung can give you one of his insanely therapeutic massages?
There's nothing really to do in the room except stare at the camera that's still watching you or counting the number of cracks on your desk. You contemplate for a short while whether to open the note Taehyung had handed you, but you don't want to risk an accusation of dishonesty.
If you're accused, you're likely to never be seen again.
So you make use of your time and doze off. After taking the Exam, you realize that there's no doubt you scored extremely well (you might've even gotten a perfect score!) and all the nervousness you had over the past several years (which wasn't that much) have vanished into thin air. You're confident enough to sleep.
In your dreams, you see Jimin, Yoongi and Taehyung. The four of you are best friends in a world that looks like Utopia but isn't. There is no Exam that determines your whole future. There is no Purgatory, no Dystopia... No horrible education system. No rats... No pit... It's a utopian world that's better than the Utopia that you know today.
And you're only woken from your heavenly dream when there's a knock on your door. It opens before you can stay anything and a man in white gestures for you to walk out of the room. Rubbing your eyes and shaking away your drowsiness, you obey him. The man closes the door once you are out of the room.
Left and right of you, there are hundreds of students standing outside of their rooms. The tension, the nervousness in the long hallway could be sliced with a knife. But you don't contribute to the sea of worries. You lean against the door, waiting for you to be whisked away, waiting to meet Taehyung at the end of the hallway. Waiting to be driven away in some grandeur vehicle.
You wait for only two people to be taken away. Or maybe there are others who scored a perfect score? No matter. At this point, you only care if you and Taehyung made it.
Everyone holds their breaths as the men in white start to walk through the halls. You see Taehyung ahead of you, already giving you a silly look and smiling confidently at you. You breathe a huge sigh of relief before turning your head to watch the men in white.
So far, they haven't taken anyone from their stance in front of their Exam rooms. Your heart beats loudly in your chest when they come closer and closer to you. God, they must've passed at least two hundred people to get to me. And still no high-scorer.
You and Taehyung have an enormous chance now.
You hold your breath as the men in white come closer and closer.
Any minute now...
You grit your teeth, tensing your shoulders when they're so nearby, if you reached out to them, you could touch their white suits. Your ears ring, drowning out the cries of the students who were standing behind you and were left stranded by the men in white.
Closer and closer and closer...
Your nails dig into your skin.
Closer...
You nearly scream in victory when a man in white stops straight in front of you. He nods in your direction and then places a hand on the small of your back to escort you away.
You can feel the burning eyes of jealousy digging daggers on your back as you begin to walk. But you can't help feeling like royalty. This is the moment you've been waiting for. You've been selected. You've scored the highest. You're going to be Utopian.
Taehyung catches your eye and gives you a huge thumbs up from afar. You're grinning from ear to ear as you begin to approach him. As soon as a man in white officially deems that he is coming with you, you're going to proudly hold his hand and walk through the hallway like you owned all of Purgatory. You're going to spend the proudest moment of your life with him by your side. Knowing that you made it through with him. And then you're going to read his note in the vehicle, on the way to Utopia. You have it all planned out in your head. It's going to be wonderf—
Wait.
The man in white who is escorting you is not slowing down, and the other men around you aren't looking to stop either. Wait.
You're going to pass Taehyung at this rate. Wait a fucking minute.
You suddenly break out in cold sweat as you and the men come closer and closer to Taehyung.
There's no way.
He had to have done extremely well. He has to come with me.
Taehyung looks a bit taken aback as well. His eyes reflect fear and the worry lines pressed on his forehead indicate no less than that.
You don't lose eye contact with him as the men continue to escort you down the hallway.
"Taehyung," you murmur when you're directly next to him. "Taehyung!" you yell. Your voice echoes eerily across the corridor.
"Y/N!" Taehyung yells back.
He's behind you now. The men won't let you stop walking.
"Taehyung!" you scream again, trying to turn around to look at him. "Tae!"
"Don't turn around, miss," the man escorting you speaks gruffly.
"There's been a mistake!" you cry. "Tae-Taehyung is supposed to be with me! Taehyung!"
"Don't make this difficult," the man answered. The hand on your back suddenly seems threatening.
"Y/N!!" Taehyung shouts again. His eyes brim with tears and he sinks to his knees.
"Get up!" someone yells at him. "Stand up, boy!"
"Y/N!" He ignores the command, sobbing with his hands reaching out for you and eyes pleading for safety, for your comfort.
You twist your body around, shaking off the grasps of your escort as you yell his name so loudly that your voice echoes across the vast expanse of the hallway.
"Behave," your escort grunts with gritted teeth as he tugs you away, gesturing the other men in white to block your view from Taehyung.
Tears stream down your face as you beg the men in white to let you see Taehyung one last time. They don't budge. It's not until you hear the beatings and Taehyung's agonizing screams that you try to kick the men's shins and escape. But they catch you, hoist you up and carry you away.
You thrash, scream, "Please don't hurt him!" but the screams, grunts and kicks never stop. You always thought your walk down this hallway would be glorious—the glory only lasted for a few minutes. You were supposed to walk down here hand in hand with Taehyung. Now Taehyung might be dead for disobeying orders.
You were supposed to be draped in silk and mink coats. You were supposed to be spritzed with sweet fragrances and treated like a princess. But everyone—even your peers—look at you with what you recognize as pity. Or maybe even disgust.
They must think you're crazy for not being thankful for being a high-scorer on the Exam. Some would kill to be in your place right now.
You hadn't expected—after your eight years in Purgatory—for your journey here to end like this. You're embarrassingly carried across the shoulder of the man in white, forced to dangle over him like a dead animal. You can feel the scrutinizing gazes of your peers. The ones who didn't get chosen.
It strikes you that you're alone now.
No more Jimin. No more Yoongi... And no more Taehyung.
You squeeze your eyes shut, praying for another person who scored the same as you. Maybe you'll find a new friend? Maybe you won't be alone again.
But the hallway ends and opens up to a door and you're still the only person the men in white have escorted. Your heart sinks. You're alone.
They shove you in a shiny black vehicle where the inside is air-conditioned and smells of roses. There are unfamiliar snacks in elaborate wrappings and ice-cold fizzy drinks around you—all for you—but you aren't hungry. The tears won't stop.
Were the riches and wealth worth the loneliness that will consume you for years to come?
You are a legend. A model figure. A genius.
The first to ever score 100% on the Exam. You're dragged from here to there, paid by the richest of Utopians to tutor their young children before they're sent off to Purgatory.
Frankly, you're upset at the lavishness of Utopia. There is always more to eat—so much so that one-fourths of every meal goes into the trash. The people here put ice cubes in their water to cool it. In Dystopia, there was never enough to eat and water was scarce. Purgatory never had a diverse array of food, and water was always lukewarm.
You're not sure if you belong here.
You miss Taehyung more than ever these days. Your new home is far too large for one person. You feel empty, cold inside. Even basking in the sunlight shining through your gold-rimmed window isn't enough to warm you. You tug the sleeves of Yoongi's sweater over your hands. Even after all these years in Utopia, you can't get accustomed to the fancy, frilly clothes here. You like Yoongi's old, frayed sweaters much better. And it's your only token of remembrance of him. You feel like you did him well because after all, you kept your promise. But Yoongi was wrong about one thing: the life of a Utopian did not suit you.
You can't help but think back to the days of Dystopia—of you and Jimin. Taehyung's right, you never really forget your childhood best friend. You've written down all of your memories about Jimin in a black leather-bound journal, which you keep out in the open by the window sill. On harder days, you like to read through the entries to refresh your memories and recall the stories that make you laugh or tear up with nostalgia.
The magnificent garden outside your home looks empty despite the plethora of flowers and colorful vines that sprout and bloom across the expanse of the healthy, verdant grass. Sighing, you clutch the silver locket resting between your collarbones. You've been wearing the necklace ever since the day you were first admitted into Utopia.
Inside the locket is a neatly folded up note. The piece of paper is old and crinkled and it has obviously been ripped out from a textbook called Family Studies. Taehyung's writing is etched onto it in black ink. You've read over the note so many times that you know exactly what it says by heart.
Y/N,
I was saving this to tell you in Utopia, but I can't wait for that day, even if it's tomorrow. I need to tell you now that I love you. Thank you for being by my side. Thank you for dealing with me. Thank you for calming me down.
You're welcome for those back massages. You're welcome for listening to your stories about Jimin and Yoongi. You're welcome for being by your side. I do it so much because I hate seeing you lonely.
Utopia will be great, Y/N. I think we'll live a great life there, don't you think?
I just want to say that if anything happens, we need to continue on with our lives. Because whatever the Exam decides, we deserve the results.
Nevertheless, I'll see you in Utopia, Y/N~
You tear up every time you open up your locket and study Taehyung's handwriting and his last words to you. Of course, you love him too. And it kills you that you don’t even know whether he's alive.
How cruel it is to live in such a wealthy place but feel worse than you had been in Dystopia and Purgatory.
The Exam is a curse. There is no way you could've beaten it, but you'd very much rather be hauled back into Dystopia with someone you care about than being stuck in this fast-paced, artificial world with no one but yourself.
It dawns on you horrifyingly. You did not beat the Exam. You did not win. You survived it.
And for the rest of your life, you must suffer the casualties.
—masterpost
—masterlist
#ficswithluv#btswritersnet#btswriterscollective#bangtanfairygarden#bangtanidx#tae#taehyung#kim taehyung#taehyung imagine#taehyung fanfic#taehyung fanfiction#bts#bts fanfiction#the exam#this story kinda hurts lmao#i was reading it over yesterday and damn it hurts yikes#some of the details are important to remember for the secOnd part of the series (:
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Either 15 from Fluff; “You saved me.” Or 48 from Angst; “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me.”
Hehe. You gave me an angst prompt. This was a mistake.
So I decided to do something completely different with this. I had the sudden inspiration to write something not for my main AU... but instead for that ridiculous Red Dead Redemption/Frankenstein crossover AU that I'm now affectionately dubbing Undead Redemption because I have absolutely zero creative talent.
No I'm not planning on actually seriously pursuing this AU. But uh... this prompt made me think of it so I decided to write for it! This... this is a doozy of a piece. Be warned... it’s.... intense. It’s also pretty long so... sorry about that. (needless to say - I chose the angst one)
TW: Blood, character death, murder, hysteria? panic? something like that
~~~
The town of Strawberry was charming - well worth the travel, Henry thought. Remote, but certainly not too much so, as the larger town of Blackwater was only a half-day’s ride away. Surrounded by pine forests and brisk with a mountain’s breeze, it was a quiet town of bare-log houses and little in the way of amenities. A rushing stream cut through the town’s center, turning a large wheel which likely produced what little electricity could be found there.
Henry smiled as he rode down the dirt road, his red roan mare plodding along patiently until he pulled her to a halt at the hitching post in front of the house that was to be his lodging for the week. “Ata girl,” he cooed softly, ruffling her mane with his hand before dismounting. She shook her head with a snort, and rested one hind hoof on its edge as she settled in to stand for however long it would be until she was to be ridden again. Henry reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a sugar cube, holding it out to her with a flat palm, and she gladly snatched it up. Chuckling at her eagerness at the scent of a treat, Henry pat her on the neck and pulled her reins over her head, tying them securely to the hitching post. Though he was giddy at the thought of adventuring through Mount Shann over the next few days, today was to be a day of rest before the excursion, so he took his time unloading what little he had brought with him into the house before retiring to a sturdy wooden chair on the porch to watch the townsfolk go about their day. Part of him was itching to retreat further up the rocky hill behind where he was staying and sit in the woods to write as the sun set, but he was aching after a day of riding and he was far more inclined to stay and rest.
The evening was quiet yet cheerful, until out of the corner of his eye, Henry caught sight of what appeared to be a massive shadow approaching the town from the northern road - one that sent townsfolk scattering and shouting as they all shut themselves into whatever dwellings they could, some choosing instead to hop onto their horses and gallop off. Now thoroughly curious, Henry stood and squinted to get a better look. That shadow turned out to be a massive draft horse, the tallest he had ever seen, with what looked to be an even taller person sitting atop its back. As the stranger rode past the sheriff’s office, Henry could see the sheriff open the door, then quickly shut it again the moment the stranger turned his head to look at him. The odd figure continued on, then halted his giant steed in the middle of the road and dismounted, resting their hand on the horse’s neck and slowly sliding it away as they began striding down the road. As the stranger approached, Henry could hear the jingling of spurs and a sudden chill went down his spine. At about the midway point from the road to the porch where Henry stood, the stranger stopped. His hair was long and black and billowing like the tails of his heavy dark leather duster in the wind, and his face covered by the rim of a black cattleman’s hat that was tipped downward to hide his eyes. “Clerval!” The voice that echoed through the streets was clear and cold as the rushing stream it rose above, yet pitched somewhere between roaring thunder and the creaking of old pines. Henry felt his hair stand on end at the sound of his own name, but he kept his composure and slowly descended the steps, standing a distance from the stranger on the road.
“Is there something you need from me, s-” Henry felt his breath catch in his throat as the stranger slowly raised his head and pulled a dark bandana that covered his mouth and nose down with one gloved hand. Even from a distance, beneath the shadow of his hat’s brim, the stranger’s eyes seemed to glow a dull yellow, sickly and pale yet burning bright enough to be visible from afar.
“The eyes! Those horrible eyes!”
“Victor! Victor, compose yourself! What eyes?” Henry held Victor tightly as the scrawny scientist writhed in feverish agony and pointed toward the wall.
“Surely you can see them! There! The fires of hell burn within them!” Henry looked up and surveyed the empty room with worried eyes.
“Victor… love there’s nothing here,” he reassured him. Victor broke from his grasp and tried to stand, only to stumble backward again.
“Yellow! That dreaded yellow glow- he’s returned for me! He’s- he…” He suddenly went silent, eyes still bugged and wild as he collapsed onto the ground. Henry desperately wanted answers, but… whatever had happened, whatever Victor had seen to haunt him in such a way, it was still far too traumatic of a memory to be discussed. With a heavy sigh, Henry gently picked Victor up off of the floor and carried his limp body to bed, where he laid him down and kissed his sweat-covered forehead tenderly.
“Just rest, Victor. No one is here to hurt you. It’s just me. Everything will be ok.” He took Victor’s clammy hand and held it tightly. “So long as I am here with you, I’ll make sure of that.”
“Who- What are you?” Henry managed to ask as the memory passed through his mind. The stranger’s gleaming eyes seemed to widen, then narrow again. His left hand, which was bare unlike his right, pushed aside the leather of his duster and revealed a pistol holstered on his hip. The fingers that hovered over the pistol’s handle were long and bony with a mixture of pale and discolored skin. Henry felt his heart jump at the sight, and he instinctively raised his hands. “Sir I mean you no harm,” he reassured him. “Just… tell me who you are and how you know me.” The stranger hesitated, and Henry saw in him a sudden moment of weakness.
“I-” The stranger’s voice broke as he began to speak, and he faltered. “I am no one. I am nothing.” Henry’s racing pulse began to slow, and he cautiously stepped forward.
“Everyone is someone, everyone is something.” The stranger’s hand fell back and he dropped his head.
“Not me, Henry. Never me.” Henry felt a sudden sense of sympathy toward him. Surely this was the man Victor was so afraid of, and yet… he seemed so sad, so alone, much more like a lost child than a fearsome demon.
“Maybe not now, but if you let me help you, maybe we can find where you belong,” Henry called to him softly, slightly lowering his hands as he approached. The stranger took a step back. “May I ask your name?”
“I have no name,” was the stranger’s hushed reply. He raised his gloved hand and removed his hat, revealing his face. A scar with obvious stitching ran diagonally down it, and though his raven hair primarily covered over it, another ran along his forehead, and two more ran from his ears to about midway down his jaw line. Henry felt himself taken by the shock of the sight, but he showed no fear as he continued to approach. “Your Victor never gave me one.” Now finally putting the pieces together, Henry’s hazel eyes widened.
“So he finally did it,” he murmured. “He managed to create life from death-”
“And then leave it to die,” the creature interrupted. Henry could see tears streaming down his papery-skinned cheeks.
“I can see you’ve been through so much,” Henry pointed out sympathetically, lowering his hands further. “You can talk to me. I won’t hurt you.” The creature’s chest heaved and his eyes clenched shut as he turned his face away.
“No, no I certainly think you won’t.” In one swift motion, the creature pulled the pistol from its holster and held it cocked, pointed in Henry’s direction. Henry jumped, raising his hands up again as his heart began to race. Though his gun was pointed, the creature seemed hesitant. His hand shook and his face was still turned away. For a moment, he lowered his gun and he wiped the tears from his eyes with his gloved hand.
“You don’t want to do this,” Henry muttered, suddenly filled with a strange mixture of fear and empathy. “You don’t have to do this.”
“That’s just it, Henry,” the creature whispered. His eyes lifted to the red painted sky of dusk. “I have no choice. There are consequences for his actions. A price must be paid as reparation for what he’s cost me.” There was a sudden shift in his expression that made Henry feel his blood run ice cold. “And that price is you.”
He barely felt the bullet when it hit. All there was, was the deafening sound of the shot and the screams that rose from the buildings that followed, the flying open of doors and windows to see what had happened, the terrified whinnies of horses, and a sudden gush of something onto his hands which instinctively flew to his chest. As he fell, he saw the creature become unsteady, nearly falling himself as the smoking pistol fell from his hand, before tensing and letting out an unearthly cry that seemed to echo through the still dusk air. He could see the creature’s stallion turn from the calm shadow he was into a panicked wreck of a beast, pawing and pacing and rearing onto his hind hooves. The creature himself turned and ran, jumping back into the saddle. As he turned his horse around, he looked over his shoulder to Henry one last time with a sorrowful look in his yellow eyes before placing his hat back onto his head and spurring his steed into a swift gallop until he disappeared over the hill beyond.
Hooves pounded on the dirt road that led to the western side of the town, kicking up dust as horse and rider flew down the path. Victor’s eyes kept a steely gaze on the town entrance ahead, his heart racing. As he had been walking down the road, there had been a sudden exodus from the town, with folks high-tailing it out as fast as they could, and he knew something was very wrong. Though his silver gray Kladruber mare was pushing just about as hard as she could, the sound of a gunshot spooked Victor into kicking his heels into her sides hard. She leaped from the pain of it with a panicked neigh, her ears pinning back as she kicked her legs out and pushed into a faster gallop than she had ever managed in her life. Tearing past the arch of the town entrance, Victor tore at the left rein, and his mare nearly tripped over herself as she made as sharp a turn as she could and tore over the bridge that led to the other road. The moment they crossed, Victor watched as one figure stumbled back and another far taller, ran and disappeared over the hill on his mount. Yanking back on both reins, Victor forced his mare into a skidding stop, leaping off her back before she had even fully stopped and racing to Henry just as he fell. He caught him in his arms, but struggled to hold up his weight and fell backward himself. Frantically, he tore the bandana from around his own neck and pressed it hard against the wound that spilled with blood. “Stay with me Henry,” he muttered, though he felt he was going to be sick. “Stay with me, come on, stay with me.” Henry coughed and sputtered, but looked up at him with a strained smile.
“Victor- it’s- it’s ok,” he wheezed. Victor pulled the bandana back slightly to inspect the wound.
“I’ll need to get that bullet out-” He paused, wildly searching around. “Is there a doctor in this town?!” he exclaimed, searching for any sign of a practice that might have the tools he would need. Henry suddenly gripped his arm.
“Victor, no,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t- don’t…” His voice trailed off and his breath grew more ragged. Tears began streaming down Victor’s face and his vision started to blur, his heart pounding hard in his chest as panic coursed through him.
“Somebody! Anybody! Help!” he cried out. A few terrified but curious townsfolk began opening their doors to see what was happening. Henry suddenly twitched and sucked in a deep breath, his eyes growing wide. Victor gripped him tighter, pressing harder at the wound. “No- no no no- Henry!” In his arms, the body he held convulsed, and after an exhale and another sudden sharp inhale, it went limp, and once bright hazel eyes stared coldly up at him, sightless. “Henry,” Victor croaked his name, his hand falling from the wound and taking the lifeless hand of the one he held. “Henry please…” he whimpered, choking back a sob. “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me,” he begged. The warmth from the body he held was already beginning to seep away, and the skin began to grow cold. He was gone. Truly, completely gone. There were no longer any thoughts in Victor’s mind. Everything was as blank and empty as the soulless stare from the lifeless eyes that seemed to pierce through his soul. In a blind state of panic, Victor dropped the body and stared down at his hands. He stood, shaking violently as he stared down. Blood dripped from his fingers, but he could barely see it as his vision was so hazy and unclear. He gripped at his face hysterically, smearing blood over his hair and skin. The sudden feeling of it and the realization of what it was sent him into utter turmoil, and he let out an inhuman shriek, stumbling around in blind panic and screaming until he tripped over the corpse’s outstretched arm and fell into the dirt below. As he writhed, a mess of blood and tears, he felt himself go numb, and with one final cry, his eyes rested back on Henry’s lifeless stare and he drew in a ragged breath. Panic turned to searing rage, and he grit his teeth. Around him, a few townsfolk had gathered to check on his condition, but their voices were drowned out by the pounding of his own heart, and his sight faded away to white as his consciousness slipped away.
#and they never even got to say goodbye or i love you before he died :')#anyways I had to suffer with this idea so now i guess all of you do too#also I'm sorry I went with this dumb little au instead of my usual ;~; i probably shouldn't have but... here we are.#ask games!#tw blood#tw death#tw murder#tw hysteria#tw panic#also i don't know if anyone is wondering who saw the original post about this au from a few weeks ago-#but victor doesnt get his mammoth donkey until *after* Henry's death - hence why he has an actual horse here.#undead redemption
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Adventures in Baratale: Feelin’ Blue (BONUS chapter)
Baratale AU and characters by staxurst.
WARNING: NSFW (18+ only), language, explicit sexual content, public sex, outdoor sex
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As Blue’s official datemate, you had absolutely no complaints about your love life. Blue might very well be the perfect boyfriend, yet you suspected that some of his excessive generosity as a lover stemmed from the way you’d started your relationship. Blue felt guilty about meeting you- and having world-shaking sex with you, multiple times- during a dominant heat, and every action he took as your boyfriend now seemed like an attempt to make up for it.
Blue always listened thoughtfully to the things you told him, and because of his attentiveness, he always took you on the most spectacular dates. At first, he had been tentative in the bedroom, obviously not wanting you to assume that he only wanted you around for sexual reasons. You reassured him enough to discover that, when not fueled by his heat cycle, Blue was the type of skeleton who preferred to focus on his partner’s pleasure. All in all, things were going great...
… except that you often felt like you weren’t contributing much to the relationship. Blue planned and paid for all of the amazing dates. Blue curled your toes in the bedroom and made your throat raw from screaming in pleasure. You just went along with his ideas, and you didn’t enjoy being what amounted to a relationship freeloader. Blue deserved a datemate who could be his equal, especially in the “spoiling your partner” department, so you did what any loving datemate would do.
You devised a clever ruse to lure Blue into a perfect date of your own diabolical creation.
First, you enlisted the help of a friend, swearing them to secrecy. Next, you joined your partner in espionage to choose an outfit suitable for the occasion. You laid the trap for Blue the next time you talked to him.
“I just found out that the National Park has a pair of baby deer who were orphaned. You can actually watch the little fawns being bottle fed at the Visitor Center,” you told Blue, nearly jumping up and down in excitement. Blue watched you with gentle eyelights, smiling at your enthusiasm. He may have been a big, burly skeleton monster, but he adored baby animals. There was no way he could resist your invitation. “Let’s go see them this weekend. Please?”
“OF COURSE, HUMAN. ANYTHING FOR YOU,” the sweet skeleton replied, just as you knew he would.
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Walking through the Visitor Center hand-in-hand with Blue almost made you forget that the focus of your plan was showing Blue a good time and eventually seducing him. You ran from display to display, and Blue followed along, laughing at your exuberant antics. You stood together, marveling at an exhibit showing various animal skulls then laughed at each other’s attempts to mimic the bird calls from another exhibit.
A voice over the PA system announced that the twin fawns would be making their appearance in a matter of minutes. Blue feigned helplessness, letting you pull him by the arm to a huge bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a viewing area for the wildlife programs. Blue slipped one strong arm around your waist as you watched the baby deer drinking from bottles held by their handlers. One of the fawns sneezed and sprayed milk onto the person feeding him. The other fawn tugged and chewed at his bottle, impatient to fill his tiny tummy.
You ended up enjoying the date portion of your scheme as much as Blue did. As the handlers led the baby deer back to their enclosure, one of them looked up at you and gave a discreet thumbs up, the signal to initiate phase 2 of the seduce and destroy mission.
“This way,” you called at Blue over your shoulder, heading through the gift shop to a set of double doors that led out to the hiking trails. Standing outside in the summer sunshine, Blue’s eyelights regarded you with uncertainty.
“ARE YOU SURE YOU CAN HIKE COMFORTABLY IN THAT OUTFIT?” he asked. Blue had noticed your oh-so-short skirt; in fact, he’d been ogling it the entire time the pair of you had been in the Visitor Center. Fortunately, Blue cared more about your safety and comfort than about sexy appearances. The big skeleton didn’t want to risk poison ivy, bug bites, or scratches from thorns causing you even the slightest bit of discomfort or harm.
“We’re just going to the wildflower field, silly,” you told him, poking him playfully in the tummy. “And don’t act like you don’t like the skirt.”
Blue chuckled, and it sounded like a lion’s purr. “I THINK I MIGHT BE ENJOYING THAT SKIRT A LITTLE TOO MUCH, ACTUALLY. IT’S DIFFICULT TO CONCENTRATE ON OUR DATE WHEN YOU’RE DRESSED IN SOMETHING SO TANTALIZING,” he admitted, and a bright blue blush sprang to life on his cheekbones. Silently, you cheered. Everything was working out just the way you’d imagined it. All you needed to do now was steer Blue towards the wildflower field and its convenient benches.
“This way!” You pointed to a sign at a trailhead. You didn’t need the sign; you’d been to the wildflower field many times before. The trail bordered a huge clearing where a variety of wildflowers grew, a natural display of vibrant rainbow colors. Honey bees swarmed to the field in late spring and early summer, pollinating the flowers and generally ignoring the guests. Sometimes you could even spot large, round bumblebees lazily trundling from flower to flower.
You had chosen this location for its beauty but also because there was only one entry or exit point and plenty of benches tucked away between the few tall trees that flanked the field. You darted over to one of the benches and pulled Blue down beside you. The wildflowers perfumed the air around you in the scent of classic romance, but you weren’t here for austere romantic overtures. You were here for some wild, kinky sex.
“This area sure is secluded,” you said innocently, watching Blue’s reactions out of the corner of your eye.
“IS IT?” Blue asked, catching on to your game immediately.
“Yup, you could do anything you wanted here, and nobody would even see it.”
“ANYTHING, HUH??” Blue’s hand snuck up to cup the back of your head, and he kissed you deeply. Ever the gentleman, Blue assumed that this area was for passionate, but chaste, makeout sessions, and as much as you loved the feel of his mouth and tongue against yours, you wanted more. You wanted to offer him a guilty pleasure that he enjoyed but rarely indulged in- outdoor sex.
Pushing Blue back, you straddled him, pressing your skimpy panties against the rapidly growing bulge straining at the fabric of his pants. His breathing sped up, and his hands slid down to your back, supporting you. Reaching up, you unbuttoned your shirt to show off a bra that matched the panties- skimpy and lacy… and easily shoved down to expose your breasts. You leaned in close to Blue’s ear canal and whispered: “Fuck me.”
The big skeleton didn’t need any encouragement. His hands found your ass and grabbed on tightly, lifting you. You tugged at his waistband, struggling to pull it over his throbbing cock. Blue quickly nudged your panties aside and spread your slick pussy lips with his fingers, his breathing rough and hot against your neck when he felt how wet with arousal you were.
Slowly and gently, Blue lowered you onto his cock, and you guided him inside you, gasping when his thick shaft stretched your pussy wide and slid into you. Blue kissed you again, letting you taste his moans as he began to rock his hips, shallowly thrusting into your tight little hole. Your breasts bounced with every movement, erect nipples brushing the soft fabric of Blue’s shirt.
“CLEVER HUMAN,” Blue murmured, burying his face in the curve of your neck.”EXPLOITING ALL OF MY WEAKNESSES.”
You opened your mouth to deliver a clever response, but Blue increased the speed and power of his thrusts. His cock slid in and out of your pussy faster and faster as he lifted and lowered you in rhythm with the bucking of his hips. The thick shaft left you overfilled and desperately empty in turns, and each time he buried himself inside of you, he penetrated you so deeply that you wanted to scream with pleasure.
“SHH,” Blue said softly. “IF YOU’RE NOT QUIET, WE’LL BE CAUGHT.”
After he spoke, Blue let his mouth wander up your neck to your jawline, then to your mouth. You opened your mouth to let his tongue in, but he nipped your lip sharply, making you gasp. The sound made his cock twitch inside of you, and you instinctively angled your hips for even deeper penetration. Sweat beaded on Blue’s skull with the intensity of his thrusts, the sensation of dragging his cock along every slick, sensitive inch of your pussy, and the way you tightened around him in response as if your entire body wanted to hold him inside of you.
One of Blue’s hands stayed splayed across your lower back and the other rose to frantically knead at one of your breasts. Your moans mingled in the insignificant amount of space between you. You wanted to throw your head back and be as loud as you could, crying out his praises to the sun and sky, and only pressing your hand over your mouth kept the sounds from spilling out.
Blue raised his eyelights to meet your gaze, staring at you with a mixture of blazing desire and boundless love. “HUMAN,” he groaned, his entire body shuddering, “HUMAN… I’M… I’M SO… CLOSE… I'M GONNA…”
“Cum inside me,” you ordered, the command barely audible but instantly obeyed. His cock slammed into you, and his mouth covered yours to swallow your cries as your pussy swallowed his thick loads of cum. His cock throbbed, pouring more and more of his hot seed into you. Your body shook then stiffened as your own orgasm rocked you. Your fingers dug into Blue’s scapulae; your pussy clamped down on his cock,and a fresh shudder of pleasure rippled through Blue’s huge body.
You fell forward onto Blue’s chest, panting and satisfied, and he wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head while his cock throbbed, still hilted in your pussy with your arousal and his cum dribbling down onto it. A voice drifted over to you from the trailhead, interrupting your peaceful moment of post-orgasm bliss.
“Welcome to the wildflower field,” your friend bellowed at a volume level that would have been unnecessary unless they knew that a human and her skeleton boyfriend were fornicating on the park benches. “Before you check out the trail, you’ll want to grab one of these pamphlets to help you identify the different types of flowers.”
By the time the bewildered hikers, pamphlets in hand, wandered down the trail to your bench, you and Blue had separated. Blue sat with one leg crossed over the other to hide any telltale dampness on his pants. You were on the other end of the bench, hoping that you’d buttoned your shirt correctly and that nothing incriminating would spill down your legs. Once the hikers passed, you made your escape.
Blue swept you up into his arms, insisting that your legs must be tired from the “hike.” He carried you back to the gift shop and offered to buy you a bottle of water if you needed it. You did, but you insisted on paying for it, though Blue didn’t put you down once during the transaction. You sipped your water, scowling without any real malice behind it.
“It was my turn to arrange a perfect date for you,” you scolded gently.
Blue’s chest rumbled against your body with another of his deep chuckles. “SILLY, HUMAN. I AM THE REIGNING CHAMPION OF ROMANCE! IT IS MY SWORN DUTY TO PROPERLY COURT YOU!”
You narrowed your eyes in an adorable fake glare. “I’m going to take your title someday,” you warned playfully, shaking a fist at him.
“I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR FUTILE EFFORTS TO USURP ME, HUMAN!”
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#vexy writes#underswap#baratale#bara underswap sans#bara us!sans#bara us!sans x reader#bara us!sansxreader#reader insert#adventures in baratale
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Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade (2010′s)
Now that we have entered the 2020s, it’s time to look back on a decade of movie magic. To emphasise the importance of each year, I’ll balance things out by including two films from each year for my Top 20 list. I’ve tried to pick films that both defined this decade as well as appealed to me personally, so my list will of course, as always, be different from yours, but hopefully, I won’t totally irritate you with my humble choice, which I deem worthy to post online for the public eye to witness.
2010:
INCEPTION - “You’re waiting for a train...” Christopher Nolan unarguably is the most exciting and original directors working today. Each time he releases a movie, its an event. A literal must-see at the cinema. Which is why this isn’t the only film of his you will find on this list. With Inception, Nolan gives us a movie that is both enjoyable and imaginative, rewarding the audience for the attention that it demands. Filled with so much detail that if you miss certain shots, you will completely get lost in confusion of the narrative (as confusing as it already is). It’s intense and complex, with great performances from the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy, this movie will leave you lingering for more even after that mysterious ending.
SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD - “You cocky cock! You'll pay for your crimes against humanity!” Once again, another exciting director on this list (oh there are so so many!). Ever since Edgar Wright emerged from the British isles, he’s given us some of the funniest films of the past decade and onwards. His Cornetto Trilogy is a blast, Baby Driver is a blast, Ant-Man was going to be even more of a blast if Marvel allowed Wright to do his magical shenanigans his way, and the upcoming Last Night in Soho will surely be a blast also. With Scott Pilgrim vs. The World Wright creates a meta-clever universe taking inspiration from comic books and video games and filled to the brink with wink-wink-nudge-nudge humour, this is an exciting and very sarcastic over the top endeavor. Also, Brie Larson in this movie.....phew!! And unsurprisingly, its all a blast!
2011:
DRIVE - “I just wanted you to know, just getting to be around you, that was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Drive is more of an elegant exercise in style, and its emotions may be hidden but they run deep. A shamelessly disreputable, stylish, stoic, ultra-violent thriller with amazing stunt work, one of the best opening sequences of any movie this decade and a neon-pumped soundtrack that’s a must-own for all vinyl users, if you still haven’t seen Drive, there’s only one thing you can do. Clue: it’s to go watch Drive.
MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE - GHOST PROTOCOL - “Your mission, should you choose to accept it...” Tom Cruise’s deal with the devil allows him to do some literally impossible stuff, and though I don’t condone his Scientology ways, the man’s stunt work and efforts in his area of expertise are worth all the praise and respect. To be honest, I’m commemorating all three of the Mission Impossible flicks that graced our screen this year (Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation and Fallout). This franchise is like a game of dodgeball, except that Tom Cruise is the dodgeBALL, being thrown and thrust left and right like nobody cares. Also, with me being Russian, the fact that a movie manages to destroy the Kremlin and then have me not hate the film in the aftermath shows that this film is way too fun to hate.
2012:
DJANGO UNCHAINED - “Gentlemen, you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.” Quentin Tarantino is one of my favourite directors working today. And Django Unchained happens to be my favourite film of his. The writing for this film is orgasmic (I went there!). The way the actors deliver the lines and the lines of dialogue themselves sound almost poetic to my ears. I can quote so many lines from this darn thing. The cinematography is immaculate. The soundtrack choice is great. The performances, my goodness, the PERFORMANCES!! Jamie Foxx does arguably his career-best work here, but also we have Christoph Waltz and Leonardo DiCaprio both chewing up the scenery, and I’m sure everyone has heard the story involving DiCaprio and the broken glass. Django Unchained is an easy choice on this list for me, and possibly in my Top 10 of all time.
LES MISERABLES - “Do you hear the people sing?” The film that is based on a musical that is based on a book that is based on certain true events. Tom Hooper did an interesting choice of having actors sing live in front of the camera during filming rather than pre-record their voices, and it works to grand effect, though Russell Crowe should have probably been given more singing lessons. The movie is one hell of a way to adapt such a popular stage musical. With an opening shot that emphasises the scale of this picture with a zoom-in towards this big ship during a storm being pulled by these poor prisoners, we are plunged into the despair and conflicts of various characters with adroit narrative thrust so that not a moment feels wasted or redundant. You’d think that a film with hardly any dialogue and an overall reliance on singing wouldn’t be so emotional. Yet, somehow, it works. Also props to Anne Hathaway for winning an Academy Award for being in a film for only 5 MINUTES!!
2013:
THE WOLF OF WALL STREET - “Sell me this pen.” Martin Scorsese’s mad look into Wall Street life is a bombastic caper and running at nearly 3 hours, Scorsese and his editing team manage to keep an astoundingly intoxicating pace that keeps you enthralled and engaged throughout. This one is definitely not for the families, as this R-rated fest is filled with drugs, money, sex and everything you can possibly imagine and paints quite the picture of the rich folks of Wall Street. And the middle of it all a bravura performance from Leonardo DiCaprio. Someone needs to give DiCaprio’s agent a raise, this is Leo’s third appearance on this list and we’re only in 2013!
THE WAY WAY BACK - “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're having way too much fun, it's making everyone uncomfortable.” Sometimes a little indie flick is enough to lift a human spirit. Real, fun, uplifting and innocent, The Way Way Back dedicated to anyone who felt awkward or out of place at some point in their life, which, let’s be honest, counts all of us. I’m not afraid to admit that. So stop being a b*** and reveal your sensitive side too! Yes, you, the person reading this. Who else could I possibly be talking to? Myself? Maybe. The Way Way Back though is one of the best feel-good indie films of this decade, with the loveable Steve Carell acting very unloveable and Sam Rockwell Rockwelling himself to charm city! If you’ve missed this one, treat yo’self and check it out.
2014:
THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL - “And?? Where is it? What's it all about dammit don't keep us in suspense this has been a complete f***ing nightmare! Just tell us what the f*** is going on!!!” Easily Wes Anderson’s best in my opinion (I have a friend who would argue Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums has the better hand but I think my opinion is more valid because it's me), this movie is a glossy, colorful, whimsical deadpan affair with an energetic turn from Ralph Fiennes as the hotel concierge M. Gustave H. as he and his lobby boy run into various Wes Anderson regulars and deal with murderers, stolen paintings, love affairs, prison breaks, and all kinds of crazy shindigs, but all shown in such a casual Wes Anderson way. This movie is like a slice of cherry pie - damn fine!
INTERSTELLAR - “Murphy’s Law doesn’t mean that something bad will happen. It means that whatever can happen, will happen.” As promised, Christopher Nolan makes another appearance on this list, now with his space time-traveling epic Interstellar, where he takes inspiration from the likes of Kubrick and Tarkovsky to give us, as always, a tad bit confusing adventure with great visuals and an interesting narrative (though it does sometimes get lost in its own way), however, the key thing holding this piece together is the father-daughter relationship with Matthew McConaughey and Mackenzie Foy (and Jessica Chastain) managing to bring so much raw emotion to their respective roles that you can’t help but want to shed a tear. I mean, I haven’t cried for over 14 years, but I remember when I first watched this film, the audience around me was sobbing quite a few times during the duration of this movie. Give it to Nolan to give us the emotional moments!
2015:
MAD MAX: FURY ROAD - “Oh what a day! What a lovely day!!” Easily the best action movie of this decade. Sorry John Wick, neither you or Tom Cruise could defeat this beast. The sheer, limitless invention behind this movie's exhilarating, preposterous chase scenes highlights action filmmaking at its finest. With big monster trucks and a random guitarist rocking-it in the middle of all the action, it’s like a nihilistic version of a Cirque du Soleil show! And it makes Tom Hardy the calmest person on-screen; no idea how it managed that.
STEVE JOBS - “I sat in a garage and invented the future because artists lead and hacks ask for show of hands.” If there is anyone who can make formulaic, mathematical or technological sound fun and exciting, its Aaron Sorkin. The man has a talent for writing screenplays about difficult and complicated topics yet turning them approachable for the casual moviegoer. Pair him with director Danny Boyle, and the result is Steve Jobs, a look at the man behind the phone. Narratively set during three important product launches of Jobs’, we get to see the behind-the-scenes of his relationships with his colleagues and family members, and this character study is one that could have easily fallen into generic biopic tropes, but it holds it’s own right till the credits roll. Also props for showing that Seth Rogen can actually do a serious role. Who would’ve thought that pot-smoking fella had dramatic chops in him?
2016:
NOCTURNAL ANIMALS - “Susan, enjoy the absurdity of our world. It’s a lot less painful. Believe me, our world is a lot less painful than the real world.” Fashion designer Tom Ford does sew his suits well. Apparently, he can also make great films too, with 2009′s A Single Man and with said Nocturnal Animals. This movie is truly incredible and I remember it taking me and my friend by surprise when we first watched it at the cinema. It’s shocking. Horrifying. Depressing. Upsetting. Altogether exhilarating. Being of a fashion background, Tom Ford directs the hell out of this movie, with gorgeous shots and great use of colour as well as managing to masterfully create tension and suspense when necessary. Honestly, I know Tom Ford is probably busy at a department store somewhere, but the guy needs to make another movie. The man has a talent.
LA LA LAND - “Here’s to the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem. Here’s to the hearts that ache; here’s to the mess we make.” Oh, La La Land. Damien Chazelle’s follow-up to the also excellent Whiplash. People who know me well know how much I love this movie. An old-school tour-de-force musical that’s a love letter to jazz and the golden age of Hollywood. The city of stars never looked so good. Featuring catchy original songs, excellent dance choreography (the sequence to the song “Lovely Night” is especially memorable) and a romance tale ten times better than the forsaken The Notebook, La La Land is one special movie. I know many are put off by the film’s not so happy ending, however for me it was the only way this narrative could have ended.
2017:
BLADE RUNNER 2049 - “We’re all just looking out for something real.” Similarly to Nolan, Denis Villeneuve is proving to be one of the most exciting directors working today. He’s the man behind such films as *deep breath* Prisoners, Enemy, Sicario, Arrival and Blade Runner 2049. And those have all been done within the last decade. The man constantly makes quality movies of various genres, though lately, he has been leaning more towards science fiction, which is a-okay in my books, since as Blade Runner 2049 proves, he can turn science into fiction like butter on bread. A sequel made 30 years after Ridley Scott’s classic, this visually breathtaking piece is arguably even better than its predecessor with many moments giving you the “wow wow wow wow wow WOW!” factor, and when Ryan Gosling and Harrison Ford are both on-screen they are dynamite. Forget the new Star Wars film (that’s right, I'm throwing shade there), Blade Runner is where it’s at!
PHANTOM THREAD - “The tea is going out. The interruption is staying right here with me.” The supposed last Daniel Day-Lewis film, as he has now apparently retired from acting, but let’s be honest, nothing stops him from simply unretiring at any point. Exhibit A - Joe Pesci. However, like Pesci, if he comes back I’ll only be happy. He’s one of acting greats of our time, and his collaborations will director Paul Thomas Anderson bring out some of his best roles. Phantom Thread is a marvel of a movie. No, I don’t mean that’s its part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I mean as in it can fill one with wonder and astonishment. Phantom Thread is PTA’s Gothic dark fairy-tale romance film, which expertly planned shots and scenes where every word of the dialogue counts. There is no wasted moment. And as the film transpires to its dark and unsettling climax, one begins to realize that this, THIS, is what filmmaking is about. Telling an engrossing story in an interesting way with crisp-clear shots and off-the-chart acting at play, with great costume design on display, although the latter is unsurprising due to a major aspect of the movie revolving around fashion.
2018:
MANDY - “You ripped ma shirt!! You ripped maaa shiirrt!!” An acquired taste for sure, however, Mandy is indeed something truly special. From first glance, this film might seem like nothing out of the ordinary, especially from the point of view of the plot. Its the usual revenge flick. However director Panos Cosmatos’ vision and how he presents it is so much more unique. And what’s not love in this film? There’s something for everyone! It’s artsy and slow enough for the critics, hip and metal for the nonchalant, gory and violent for the hardcore genre fanatics and of course the Nic-Cage-rage factor is present for the fans of the actor. Alright, it may not be a family film, but this one is worth a watch. The whole thing is bound together by this psychedelic otherworldly environment, with the whole movie conceived in this dark, unsettlingly beautiful yet horror-filled aura that might stray people away, as it might be just too different for them, however, if you are looking for something different to watch, take mandy. I mean, watch Mandy!
A STAR IS BORN - “Music is essentially 12 notes between any octave. Twelve notes and the octave repeats. It’s the same story told over and over. All the artist can offer the world is how they see those 12 notes.” The film that began all the rumours surrounding Bradley Cooper’s and Lady Gaga’s affair. People, heads up, they are actors! They were putting on a performance! Jeez. That being said, I totally ship them. Nuff’ said. The film though? Yes, it’s good. Some country-style music, romance blooming, Gaga can apparently act, people sing about shallows for some reason...all together works for a pretty decent motion picture. Also, the fact that Bradley Cooper wrote, directed, produced and starred in this gives me so much respect for the guy. He poured his heart and soul into this. And Lady Gaga absolutely shines!
2019:
PAIN & GLORY - “Writing is like drawing but with letters.” Director Pedro Almodovar semi-autobiographical film takes a close look at how one deals with acceptance, being forgotten, symptoms of depression and generally all fairly negative attributes, but delivered in such an honest and profound way that there is a strange lightness that emerges from it all. Antonio Banderas is uncannily vulnerable in the lead role, delivering such an earnest performance that shows a man that is filled with melancholic regret who seeks his own form of redemption. This movie is a thing of beauty.
PARASITE - “You know what kind of plan never fails? No plan at all. If you make a plan, life never works out that way.” Parasite is easily the most original and surprising films of 2019, and possibly the decade, managing to subvert expectations and blend together so many different genres so naturally. To spoil any narrative element of this movie would be a sin, like this one in particular works best when not knowing anything about it. This movie comes to us from Bong Joon-Ho, a South Korean director behind such films as The Host, Memories of Murder, Okja, and Snowpiercer. It’s nice to see the awards ceremonies giving him the proper recognition finally. He deserves it.
That sums up my Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade list. Of course, there are so many other great films that came out in these 10 years, such as Whiplash, When Marnie Was There, Paterson, Silence, Kubo and the Two Strings, The Nice Guys...I can go on forever. Cinema is a constant ever-growing medium, and it is fascinating to see how it changes through the years, in some ways improving and in some parts not so much. In any case, I look forward towards a new decade of, hopefully, great movies, however, let’s be honest, for all these great films there’s always a Norm of the North, a Scout’s Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse or frickin’ Cats. But let’s hope those will be kept to a minimum. In any case, bring on the 2020s!
#best movies of the decade#top 10#top 20#best films#best movies#best movies of 2019#inception#parasite#pain and glory#mad max fury road#mandy#a star is born#les miserables#the grand budapest hotel#scott pilgrim vs the world#blade runner 2049#phantom thread#la la land#django unchained#nocturnal animals#movies#film#cinema#best films of the decade#best films of the 2010s#best movies of the 2010s#interstellar#drive#the wolf of wall street#steve jobs
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