#I cannot get stone’s hair right and it makes me want to explode | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

unknownjpegs · 1 year ago

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wraith

Alone.

It hangs in the air like that. Physical, weighty. An impeding stone wall come down between them. Tino images it, a brick slab falling from the sky through the rough of his home. Cutting the table in two clean halves and separating each from the other.

Without him.

“You always bring him with you.” Tino says slowly, hands clutching the clay mug of tea between his fingers. “Unless it’s too dangerous. And this? Having him here for a month…that’s a long time. Big distance. You’re takin’ more and more dangerous jobs. Is there something you want to talk about?”

“Not if you ask it like that, ares-face.”

The nasty little insult in her high, tinkling bell of a voice makes Tino duck his head and chuckle. She hasn’t changed once over the years. Maybe become a bit more weathered from countless steps under the sun; yet much the same as the young thing that slipped a fishing, slim hand into pockets to come away with fortune. The pretty woman that camouflaged in disguises to source illicit things (and alcohol) for Bunny. Who flattered and charmed her rich connections, encouraged them to do business with Happy. Who aided Tino, and Benji’s now-dead mother, to squirrel him from a fate worse than nobility.

“One day you’ll get yourself in too deep.” He snorts. “Get lost.”

“Never.” She raps a freckled knuckle against his table, smiling crookedly before pointing at the sky. “Stars.”

“Aren’t you scared of —”

“Please,” the slight woman sat at the other end of his kitchen table scoffs. She flaps her hand in the air, shined wooden bracelets clacking together, and the hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “I was along with Mar six months when you came to me askin’ for help. Oh, how shall we kidnap a princeling?”

The urge to look over his shoulders is an ever-present one. While he has assured safety and anonymity, nothing is ever certain. So neither is Tino.

“Shhh, Lia.”

On cue, the door of the cabin explodes open in a dizzy mess of stomping feet and flailing arms. The flurry meets in a tangle first at the butter churn, knocking it to the floor with a clatter.

“Hey!” He barks it with a bitten-off laugh — the adolescent chaotic mess of them is worse when they’ve both worked themselves up, but neither have yet developed decent balance.

Their tangle of brown knees bang hard in tandem, and the tears begin that way too. Benji’s silent, his lip pushed out and eyebrows bunched. Maran isn’t, and that’s why Tino shies from showing his amusement. Not more sensitive than Benji, but he gets cheek-red and pouty if he feels he’s the subject of ridicule. He’s slim and birdlike in the chest and limbs in a way Tino’s own boy never has been, and yet he tosses his meager weight like he won’t, come a few years, be smacked aside with ease.

Because Benji shuffles to wrap his arms around Tino’s leg for comfort, Maran does not go to his mother’s outstretched arms right away. Instead, the taller boy takes Tino’s wrist and pulls it from the top of his best friends head. Settles it overtop his instead. He flashes a smile at Tino. Charming. Totally, wholly his mother’s.

“Benji started it outside,” Maran tattles monotonously, big eyes gone full-force. “He pushed me first.”

Tino purses his lips thinly together, fighting the grin. “That true?”

Benji’s chin is tilted down, fiddling with the hem of his tunic. His fingers wind and unwind around a stray thread that Tino notes, will bite off between his teeth and re-stitch later. He glances up at Tino with big, wet eyes that go suddenly hard when pointed at Maran’s pleased smirk.

“I’d push him right now, too.”

The courier tilts her curly head of hair back and laughs.

It’s a shit day in a shit week in a shit month in a shit year, and Maran simply cannot manage to handle the weight of it all in any other fashion than sitting himself on the side of the road and feeling very fucking sorry for his lot.

And crying, maybe. Just a little.

Little. Big.

When he felt upset, came to clutch at her skirt with shiny eyes threatening to spill over or already pouring, his mother would bend to him with a beaming smile. Wipe her thumbs under his eyes and ask: are these big or little, Mar?

Big or little tears. Big or little hurt. Skinned knee, spider too close, toy snatched away, darkness too dark. He misses the days he’d respond big tears, because everything felt that way all shrouded in youth. Everything was a big hurt to him, then. And now occasionally he finds struggles to gauge the size of them in a way that doesn’t unduly stretch or condense. When a skinned knee is an amputation, or not there at all.

And still, big, he wants to tell her. Everything has felt big since he was young. So how is he meant to look at her brokenly spilled and ransacked courier cart, the only other thing she’d taken such good care of besides him, and call it big when it feels much more? How is he meant to look at the wet red splash on the dusty forest path, spilling from their old horse’s throat in a jagged wound, and call it big when it is more?

He’d like to tell her big tears, mama. These days they always feel that way. Just as they had been larger than life in youth. The biggest of them all spill forth when he finds time each season to visit Benji’s old man on his land. When he follows another forest trail, a path descending a hill through the woods just like this one. Quieter, serene. Dotted with the flowers she preferred, ones Tino and Benji helped him plant in mournful silence.

How is he meant to get there now, without a horse, without a cart? How is he meant to find his way back to Tino’s land, through the forest, to that element-weathered grave marker? He thinks of it sitting there in the forest alone, unvisited. Overgrown. Moss climbing its smooth sides where it sits tucked into a gentle shady spot near an ancient olive tree. On days nice enough, they would nap beneath it. If he can’t visit, can’t take care of the stone, can’t brush the crawling vines from the chiseled letters of her name, can’t tediously select a perfect few pebbles from the water’s edge to balance atop it, he can’t —

Well, he can’t nap under that ancient olive tree and cry bigger-than-big tears, can he? Can’t wonder on the nature of hurt’s size and wonder if it becomes little, at all, ever.

It’s a shit day and surely that muddies the rest of his mood, but as he stares at the dead horse and ruined cart, he doesn’t believe in little hurts.

So Maran cries.

He cries even when the distant patter of hooves over dead leaves and dirt and stone thunders ever closer. He isn’t a fool, nor is he green; he has been a courier in this land for a long enough time, with an expert enough teacher, that he knows the things he ought not do. Sit on the side of a well-traveled path not unknown for harboring thieves and raiders, is one thing. Perhaps even traveling on it in the first place should have been higher up on his list of ought not do’s. Make smart decisions, his mother had tried to warn him. Trust that gut, Maran. It’s the best navigation of them all.

That and the stars. He hears it in her voice like she’s right there. That and the stars and the magic.

“Robbery?”

Maran lifts his chin up and his eyes go wide with terror. The rider looks like a monster. Some featured beast with a pointed beak and — no, just a hat. A cape, and a hat. Mask pulled above a mouth, svelte black horse between legs strapped with all manner of weapon. Glass vials, pockets, pouches, and two quivers of ebony-stitched velvet. They look expensive. He wonders if they’re stolen.

Maran’s eyes ascend slowly, but the ride is obscured by the setting sun behind him.

“Bit of it, yeah.”

The rider’s face turns. He looks like a living blob of shadow, blurred golden at the edges. “Looks like m-more than a bit.”

Embarrassed, Maran remembers that fat streaks of salty tears haven’t yet dried on his cheeks. He rubs at them with his sleeve messily, desperately. The stranger clicks his tongue and the horse moves slowly forward, well-controlled circles around the wreckage and the corpse of his own animal. “And murder.”

“Good mare.”

Why he shares this information, he isn’t sure. This roadside encounter could very well be his last; this person is dangerous, and most of the time Maran carries nothing but letters. Inheritance notices, deeds, pages between family members, perfumed parchment exchanged between lovers. He’s been meaning to learn how to protect himself. He’s sure of foot — bruises gained on the road aren’t often from tripping.

“Belonged to my mum.”

There’s a stretch of silence. Nothing but the sounds of the forest. Birdsong, distant rustling of animals underfoot of little beasts, and the soft noises coming from the forest path’s only living horse.

“Well,” the stranger says it so quietly it’s nearly inaudible. His voice isn’t particularly strange, but Maran finds it so that the first thought that springs to mind when he hears it is: oh, lovely. “What else did they t-ta-take?”

Maran looks up again. The rider shrouds now in the leafy canopy’s shade. The brim of his hat is too large and droops too low for a glimpse. If you rob me too, I won’t be able to describe you to the guard. And if you choose to kill me, I think it’s only fair I see the face of the man who pulls a knife across my throat.

“They took the package I’m meant to deliver between sundown tomorrow. I’m a courier. They took my weapon, too. So, of course I’ve got no way to get it all back.” He glances at the wreckage. They took more, but he won’t speak further on that. It would be daring the tears to return in full force. “Not that I could. There’s three.”{

“Fortunate day for y-you, friend. To cross paths with a thief catcher right after being robbed.” The horse turns in a slow circle down the path. “Didn’t run into them. So that means they went east, huh?”

“Yes. Three —”

“Tracks are still fresh, too.” The stranger readjusts on the saddle. The flash of metal glinting eyes fall unbidden to black fabric as it flexes over a thigh. Maran frowns. “Shouldn’t take long. S-Pick what you can, then m-meet me at the east clearing.”

With that, he gallops off. And Maran — well, what else is he meant to do? He could go on foot, explain the situation, and then make a short journey on horse, long on foot. Do all that for free and still return to the sender with nothing but apologies.

Instead, he goes to the east clearing and waits.

As promised, the wraith returns later that evening.

The tree line begins at the crest of a gentle knoll, its path winds a descent down the grassy slope and into the prairie below, cutting a well-worn slice into grass and wildflower. Maran waits there at the forest’s edge, arms tight around a canvas sack of things he managed to save from the wreckage.

At the lower elevation witching hour fog collects amongst the blades and blooms. It shrouds everything in a mysterious grey, but his eyes scan it nonetheless. As a child, Maran used to dream of catching the tufts of smoke as they left a chimney. Holding them in his hands; the clouds too. He’d given himself a nasty scar, waiting for his mother’s attention to wane to climb their humble thatch roof and topple from it.

He remembers lying in a pool of his blood, staring up at the cloudy sky and noting the shapes. He remembers his mother’s bracelets clacking as she fell to her knees beside him. They’d been noisier than usual, her hands shaking like that. That was the first time he could recall her swearing at him. Calling him a name in her frustration that would eventually become an affectionate nickname: little bastard.

He feels bled-out, sitting against the base of a tree and waiting. Watching. The thief catcher traverses the prairie as quick as the horse will take him, black blot on the horizon of murky bluish fog. As he draws near Maran realizes another saddled horse follows, roped to the bridle of his own.

He stole a horse? Well. Is it stealing when it’s stealing from thieves?

“Dead.” Maran’s wraithlike new friend announces. He hops down, kicking up a bit of dirt around his boots. “N-Nasty group, better off gone.” He tosses something through the air. Too late Maran realizes it’s a blade. It spins in a graceful, gleaming arc through the air and lands with a thick noise. Sinks cleanly into the grass between his splayed knees. It cuts nice, is kept with care. It’s Maran’s knife after all, and while it’s whittled so sharp as to slice flesh like butter, he’s never once used it.

“Got y-your delivery and that cute little dagger back.”

Maran isn’t sure why he sits there for so long, knees tucked slightly and lips parted as he stares upwards. They’re the same height. He knows this from their encounter that afternoon. But he feels pinned to the spot by those ghostly white eyes. Even when they don’t touch over him — and Maran wishes, in the recesses of his brain, that they would linger — he’s stunned motionless. He wonders if this is how the catchr operates. If this his most successful method. He wonders if others are smarter to run. And yet Maran feels his legs heavy as though leaden.

Stuck in place, weighted by a whisper in him. Some eerily sweet sound that beckons him still like a voice misty wind. A ghost of the plains. Stay here, stay here.

“I don’t have nothin’ to offer as payment.” He stands slowly, brushing the seat of his pants. The knife returns smoothly to its empty thigh sheath and then Maran gestures to the horse with the canvas sack wrested over its back. “No coin until I get that to where it needs to go.”

The catcher twitches. He’s broad shouldered and clearly strong, but when he moves like that he seems made of air. Nearly not there in the first place and so fluid with the cape that he disappears into a shadow in motion. All…smoke.

Can I touch that? Can I hold that in my hand?

Obscured to Maran for a moment behind his steed’s neck, he rustles amongst the saddlebags. It feels like barely a breath before he’s stood once more in front of him. As the man slinks into the dappled silver moonlight like that, enough to be shown, Maran sees it. The shine of his black outfit. Maran gasps. The gloves, his sleeve, Maker — all of him — have been soaked through with blood. They shine with it. He churns internally with revulsion and fear.

Killed them! Maran’s brain shouts even as his fingers dart out, wrap around the man’s wet wrist and his mouth blurts: “Is it yours? Are you hurt?”

Now, the hat tilts back. Casts a shadow on a pale face, makes Maran’s breath hitch before it begins to pour in and out of him faster.

There’s a smear beneath his left eye, high on a rounded cheekbone before it disappears beneath the hat into light hair. But — no, not a random splatter. It’s a handprint. Someone had grabbed him there, or tried to hold him back, with a bloody palm.

Maran’s fingers go loose on his wrist. He glances down, and sees that his own hand is slick too. He stumbles backwards and sits heavily on the knoll, eyes blinking rapidly. There are eels in his guts that squirm and thrash, inch up his throat like they’re trying to escape, crawl up his spin and hiss in his ears. His own heartbeat in his skull, like he has his temple to a pillow. Or a chest.

The catcher crouches beside him. His head tilts liquid and slow. It’s not so hard to look him in the eye like this, when he feels so nauseous and floaty. Smoke-like if he turns his head too fast. He thinks of how the catcher moves.

“Do you ever get sick like that?” Maran whispers stupidly, sudden dizziness making the words blabber from his tingling lips.

“Like wh-what?” The stranger asks. Sensation on his palm makes him glance down; it’s being wiped dry with a handkerchief produced from somewhere. Maran pinches his eyes shut at the spot shape of blood dotted against white. It looks to him like the outline of a turtle. “Are you s-s-sick? Threw some tinctures in. Rations, plenty. Some b-basic supplies for the road, but if you’re —”

Their eyes meet. There’s no more tacky red drying between the creases of his hand, his knuckles, and yet the touch remains. He isn’t sure how ill that bodes for him. How dangerous. So Maran swallows and gently pulls his hand away, tucks it against a chest that rises in deep, slow breaths. He tries to calm down. He’s dizzy. He is dizzy.

“If we see each other again, I’ll have your payment.” He rolls his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut to ward off a wave of vertigo. They scrunch as his brow does. “I swear it, mate. And I will have some way to thank you for what you’ve returned to me. The food and all of it, my knife, the delivery, I —”

He opens his eyes. The wraith and his horse have disappeared. And there hadn’t been any retreating thunder of hooves.

Like smoke, in thin air. Poof. Gone.

Temporarily. For now sort of gone.

Maran makes his delivery, and must return from the lord’s estate back through the woods, back across the field, back home. It is on his second night of that journey, near the spot where they first met, that Maran makes camp. He goes off trail and plans to move through the forest that way. Guide his horse. He feels certain that if he returns to the spot of his mother’s ruined cart, sees it lying there in tatters or worse gone, picked carcass-clean, he’ll lose the remnants of his mind.

Wonders if he actually might be, that night.

Because there’s something in the forest with him. Somethings. Of course he knows there are things existing around him all the time. His mother taught him that. And she also taught him, and being on the road taught him, that there are things best left ignored.

If you go around the curving path of a mountain pass and you see someone stood in the snow when you crest the other side, you must turn around and take another path.

But mama, what if it takes longer?

That’s their path. It’s being used. You must go around.

Maran hasn’t gone around. He’s traipsed through. And, until he sees the gleam of steel between two sparsely decorated branches, Maran thinks he’s gone insane.

“Plenty to share,” Maran says to the wraith a mouthful of bread. It’s not the truth, but he’s stretched rations before. Not for a peace offering before but, first times for everything.“And I will, if you’re hungry. If you tell me how long you’ve been following me.”

The thief catcher pushes into the clearing. He falters just a moment before crossing to the opposite side of Maran’s campfire and settling down. He accepts the food Maran hands him.

“Days. Don’t suppose you have fresh butter ready?”

Maran throws his head back and laughs. When it goes all-breath and throaty, it reminds him of his mum.

They take a meal like that together on and off for two weeks. For the duration of his return trip, Maran is not once bothered. No vagabonds or thieves or bandits, not a single other soul. He knows why. He finds it thrilling to think of a wraith in the shadows watching over him at night. It feels like an adventure, like a story Tino would conjure for them. A scary one that his mother didn’t like him telling.

The thrill is that fear in his gut when the firelight would flicker low, when Benji would leap at him and shout to make him startle. It also is something else. Something warmer, pressing behind his belly button like it means to claw from him.

After meals where their fingers brush over shared slices of fruit, bread warmed (and sometimes charred, lost in conversation as they become) over flame, Maran sometimes dreams about splitting apart. Maran fears, a little, but he — there’s something else with it.

Something big. Bigger than big.

Months later, Ben turns to him across a soft swath of emerald green grass they have tossed themselves onto. The sun is low on the horizon. Maran imagines it hanging on by a finger to the edge and then falling as if from a cliff. They’re both warmed by its fading presence over the field, the company, and spiced wine he has no doubt Benny swiped from the market. They’re warming, and they’re reminiscing.

“Y-You remember that?”

Their first encounter. How could he forget?

He turns to Ben as well, eyes lidded with drink. How could I forget? He wants to ask the other man. It bubbles up in his chest. It seems important to say. From within something screams at him that it’s the right thing to say. Like looking up at the stars and taking the right turn. Right way. He’s going the right way.

How could I possibly forget? It has not been so long that he would. And, if honesty is what Ben is after by asking, Maran doesn’t think any amount of time could draw the memory away. Not now or ever.

He clears his throat, blinking his gaze away out across the field once more. There’s a herd of sheep down the hill, so Maran counts them to distract himself enough to answer. “Of course. It was a dark and stormy night —”

“It w-was noon.” Ben sounds amused. “And hot.”

“The forest was dark, dickhead, hush. And anyway, afterwards it was dark as well. Scary. I still haven’t been to that field, that crossroads. I can’t. I avoid it, even when it’s quickest. It makes me…” He feels a hand brush over his knee, patting softly. “Ah. Right, um, best not to dwell?”

Maran settles back against the grass comfortably, lacing his arms behind his head and twining his fingers together. It’s a beautiful summer evening. They’re shaded in the afterimage of rustling leaves, specks of golden yellow dotted around them. For Maran, resting in the shade of a tree brings up certain memories. It feels ritualistic. Painful, even. But in this moment all he knows is a gentle breeze, good company, and peace. He could rest. He could nap. He could sleep a full eight hours like this. He knows he would wake up safely at the end. Be greeted with a slippery little grin — cruelly edged but liquid smooth just for him.

Just for me. Just for me. Mine.

He sits up suddenly, turning at the waist. “Oh. Ben.”

The man in question cracks one eye open. He’s in a similar position to the one Maran has just been in, knees tucked up as he lounges with that tattered cake spread under them like a blanket. Maran feels his cheeks heat up at that. The mental image of sharing a blanket. Lying somewhere side by side with Ben. Touching, and not even. Being in range to if he wanted. He does. He’s in range to do exactly that right this moment.

And — yeah, yeah. He wants that very badly. He wants that more than anything at the moment, actually, and then he realizes he’s not breathing and takes a massive, audible gasp.

“Hm?”

But Maran is already leaning over, casting him in more shadow. One hand touches the grass beside his head, palm against the night-cooled earth. The other slides over his shoulder. It drags a path to settle first at his neck, thumb swiping over the strong line of his jaw, and then up into the messy knot of hair that sticks sweaty to the back of his neck.

Maran smiles down at him, blinking slow. He hooks two fingers in the tie, pulling strands of shaggy blond hair free. He dips all five into the uneven layers, giving it all a teasing tug of a shake before going gentle.

“I feel safe.” It’s an admission offered to the hollow of Benny’s throat, the dip between bones, that Maran has thought about on more than one occasion. He means to offer it again, to the point of his chin, but it gets caught on a breath and he can only sigh. Words are more and more impossible with every ticking second, every fleeting press of his mouth somewhere his thoughts have lingered far too long on. Neck again, bald patch in his facial hair, spot on the bridge of his nose.

Mouth.

It’s not a kiss. Not really. Just a breezy feather of a touch. Ben’s are smooth. Slack. A breath tickles across his face as he hovers there. It seems an eternity, but it’s seconds. Surely only seconds.

Maran pulls back. His arm feels shaky, so he braces the other on the ground as well.

“Do it —” Ben swallows, his eyes traveling in chaotic circles over Maran’s face, “Do it again.”

His close-mouthed smile splits wide. With a huff, he settles himself half on top, lowering to his elbows and bringing their chests suddenly hard together. His air bursts out in a dramatically agonized wheeze that makes Maran laugh. Arms immediately sliding around his waist, tugging him closer. Tighter. They’re nestled together, wound up and tangled. Maran will have to fight to get up, squirm to free himself, and the idea has his cheeks warming. Ben is stronger by far.

“Okay,” he whispers. Scoots up to bring their faces together once more. As he leans down, milky, pearlescent eyes disappear behind blond-lashed lids. Maran has a laugh caught in his throat. It lodges there, syrupy and dripping, with his pounding heart. It makes him feel fizzy and alive. It overwhelms. He doesn’t know what to do with the feeling, so his smile curls more dangerously.

He’s fascinated by the fact that, this close, he can see the spidery myriad of veins on lids. The kiss he lands against each is as light. He follows them up with a teasing brush of their mouths together before retreating, impish smile still in place.

“There.” He says roughly. His breath fans a stray lock of hair tucked behind his ear. Maran pulls the strand free to touch his finger to it, kiss the spot it vacated, too. “There, I did it again.”

Ben’s hand darts up from his ribcage to the front of his throat, cradling it gently. Maran is pulled slowly down, eyebrows hitching submissively. He’s been robbed before. Threatened. Held at knife point, aimed at by a bow, beaten and tossed about with a hand on his throat. He didn’t know it could feel like that.

Beneath, pearl-white eyes have snapped open. They pin him — as they did on the road, as they did that night. As they have every single instance since. Maran thinks, probably every single instance in the future.

A deft-fingered grip touches to the back of Maran’s neck suddenly. His gasp is throaty and rough. Sounds, to his own ears, a bit ridiculous — like he’s been stabbed. And that makes him tuck his chin, forehead knocking to Ben’s as he descends. They press together like this even more. So much touching. So much that Maran knew he wanted to touch, maybe, all this time. Perhaps not in this particular manner but…

Ben shifts, other hand drawing up his spine. The movement rucks his tunic up, which seems to have been the goal in the first place, because that cool hand settles against the dip as he arches.

With insistent tugs, Maran is made to lift his head. Pinned by that gaze again, overwhelming; he squeezes his eyes shut with a soft noise.

And suddenly the world moves. Oh, he thinks, that’s what it feels like.

The hand on his back snatches his jaw and he’s sent flying, cradled in both those hands as legs wrap expertly behind his knees. With a cry of surprise and a thump that knocks the wind from his chest, their positions switch. Maran is dizzy about that, about everything but that in particular. That they could be the same height but Ben’s stronger. Enough to size him up and toss him around as though he’s nothing at all to move. Ben is stronger and scarier and —

Sneering down at him with that crooked, sharp-toothed grin. The hand on his jaw coaxes it, forces Maran to let his lip free from the bite of his mouth as it parts slightly. Ben groans, and the noise is enough to make him squirm. To make him…make another noise.

“Do it again,” he growls. A shiver races up Maran’s spine, has him lifting his arse off the ground to press his hips closer. The dagger sheath on his thigh gets bunched a bit higher, tight ring of restraint that makes him toss his head back. Feels almost like the squeeze of a hand.

Touch me, he thinks up at the other man, the sun-dappled tree, the sky beyond. Touch me first.

“Maran.” He says instead, voice low and even. Dangerous. Maran blinks rapidly. Fingers on his jaw flex and give him a shake. The cup of his other hand reminds Maran he is being touched. That touch has been there for so long.

“Kiss me and do it right. Don’t wanna ask again.”

Maran pulls him down with a pitiful sort of whine, arms crossing behind his head. He kisses as well as he can. Kisses how he wants to, even if it’s new and messy and hungrier than he’s ever had a kiss turn out. He can only hope it’s the right sort of kiss. If not, he’ll coax Ben to tell him things he ought to do.

#writing #ua #mgc #tl #jlb #mgc x jlb #fantasy au

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hotwings0203 · 4 years ago

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Wat if katsuki actually had a s/o that loved Key word LOVED him but.....

Then when he started getting to aggressive and starts hitting her she suddenly stops all the love and affection. And that makes katsuki so confused and angry bc he like 'wtf why did they stop huggin and kissin me when I get home from my matches'. Then his darling becomes very depressed is and cooped up in her room all the time. So when katsuki friends come over they wonder where y/n is.

Tw:abuse, implied dubcon, depression

“Babe, you’re home!” You rush over to the door when you head it unlocking, arms outstretched already or embrace his wounds.

But when the door swings open you’re met with a scowling Bakugo who shoves you aside so hard you fall to the floor.

He grumbles and throws his bags down, kicking mud off his shoes onto the carpet as he glares at you.

“This place is a pigsty. Why the fuck didn’t you clean?”

You laugh nervously and raise an eyebrow. “Uhh, ‘cause I was out all day too? I just got home an hour ago and I was tired. What’s with you? Why’re you in such a bad mood?”

Katsuki’s eyes widen until they’re the size of dinner plates. His nostrils flare and his fists resume the same position as they do in the ring.

“You talkin’ back to me now?”

“What? No, you literally just asked-“

Crack.

The sound of him backhanding your cheek reverberates around the apartment, and you hold your face in shock.

It’s not so much the pain of him striking you that hurts, it’s the fact that this has been happening for a while now that aches the most. Nothing you do-no smiles, no amount of love you showed him in, no sobs or pleads-sways him.

You love him, it’s true.

But it’s hard to love him when he looks at you like that.

“Get the fuck up. And clean all this shit up, the next time I come home to this filth I’ll make the clean the floors with your tongue.”

He grabs you by your hair and throws you face-first onto the tile area, taking his own sweet time to turn around and walk to your shared room.

After you clean for hours until the place is spotless, you retreat to bed.

He’s on his phone typing away with a slight crease in his eyebrows, but he looks up at you as you walk in.

“Hey. You done?” He has the audacity to ask in a gentle voice.

“Mmhm.”

You don’t look at him as you begin changing your clothes in the restroom and close the door behind you.

His frown deepens at that. You’ve never shied away from being vulnerable and naked with him.

To test his doubt, when you walk back into the room with your head still down, he leans forward as you sit down on the mattress, your back turned to him.

You shut off the lights in silence as he reaches a hand out and curls it around your shoulders.

“C’mere, ‘wanna feel you.” He mumbles in his raspy sleepy voice.

But to his utter confusion, you gently brush his hand off and continue your journey to tuck yourself in bed.

With your back still facing him.

“I’m tired Katsuki. Not in the mood.”

His hand is still suspended in midair, his facial features still frozen in his initial shock as he’s left in a pitch black room which is suddenly overcome with a freezing cold creeping up his spine.

He’s too wounded, too shocked and shot from his ego to be irate.

You’ve never said no to cuddling at night. Never. So what was wrong now?

You were taking his anger so well for a while, what the hell was the matter with you?

But he doesn’t touch you again that night. He barely sleeps a wink to your usually comforting sound of soft snores and little mumbles in your sleep talk.

In the morning his lack of sleep gets the betterment of his temper, and he lashes out of you again in the shower.

You’re washing your hair when you feel a cool breeze against your bare body. You open your eyes and see Katsuki standing in front of you outside the glass door to your shower.

You feign an eye roll and merely grab the handle trying to close it shut.

He doesnt even let it budge. He just snarls down at your intruding hand and yanks the door back even further, pulling you along with the force.

You yelp and slip on the floor, falling unceremoniously at his feet.

The look on his face is frankly terrifying, much worse than yesterday’s. Bakugo slowly steps in along with your quickly reversing body and closes the door behind him, trapping you inside with him.

“Why’d you try to close it on me.”

It’s not a question, it’s a demand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Then get up and touch me.”

He’s towering over your cornered form, his fists dangerously swinging next to your head.

Your limbs don’t move though. Your heart thuds slowly, your love ebbing away from him with its slow rhythm.

You already know how this is going to turn out, but you try anyways.

“Please Bakugo, I’m really not in the mood right now.”

“Oh, so it’s Bakugo now, huh?”

Your body disassociates so you don’t feel it as much, but unfortunately your hands still flinch above your head in instinct.

“If you’re-thud-sorry, then you’ll fucking-crack-touch me you-smack-ungrateful bitch.”

Your cries are loud, but not loud enough to drown his roaring out, not enough to mute the sound of his hands cracking above your shaking body.

He leaves the shower unfulfilled in his heart and in his dick.

His mind is in shambles.

This is the longest you’ve wanted space from him, he could understand an hour but half a day?

He has a rude awakening when “half a day” becomes a couple more days, then a week, and then it’s half a month since you’ve willingly kissed his battle scars and loved him with your whole being.

He says willingly because otherwise you eat his hits up like you’re just another fighter in the ring when he gets angry at your apathy. The only restraining factor that differentiates you and the men he puts in coffins is his desperation for you to come back.

To no avail though. If you’re not keeling over on the ground or pinned underneath him and molding your anatomy to the shape of his fists, then you’re still as a corpse on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing you were anywhere else but here.

Bakugo doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to feel.

Rage is consumed by paranoia, paranoia is swallowed whole by depression, depression is swept away by panicked desperation.

His hair starts falling out, his punches grow weaker and he comes home with more and more bruises every day to match the ones littering across your body.

One might wonder whose the real fighter-him or you.

And so one day when he can’t stand it anymore, can’t stand the silence and tension that’s so palpable you could taste the iron in the air, he invited his friends over.

He need the distractions. He needs happiness, a word that doesn’t seem worthy of his pathetic being.

He’s more pathetic than your unmoving body.

“Heyyy man!” Sero and Denki exclaim in obnoxious unison and throw their arms around Bakugo’s shoulders. All three of them barrel through his half-opened doorway and practically topple him over.

The air of excitement is so foreign to him, but oh so welcoming.

“Hey,” he grunts back awkwardly.

“You’ve never really invited us over without Y/N dragging you by the ear for it. How is she by the way? Haven’t heard of her in a while.” Kirishima nudges his shoulder.

But before he can open his mouth Denki cuts in. “You knock her up yet? You sly bastard, no wonder you’re hiding her from us. The gigs over Y/N, show us that beautiful belly!” He cups his hands around his mouth and the quip slashes through the air and infests Katsuki’s heart. It’s a mockery, a cruel reminder of what he cannot have.

When their friend doesn’t answer and merely walks off, the boys behind him awkwardly look at each other.

Usually he’d explode at them or at least chase them around the room.

And usually you would come out to greet them.

Katsuki was wrong.

You weren’t different from him anymore.

Because when he accepts that not even his friends can release his stone cold heart from its catatonic confines, he’s never felt more in sync with you than he has now.

#mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha angst #bakugo angst #katsuki angst #bakugo x you #yandere bakugo x reader #tw:abuse #tw: implied noncon #bully bakugo #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugou

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rystarkov · 4 years ago

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Jealousy, Jealousy (Part Two)

Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the love on part one! I did not expect people to love it as much as they did and ask for multiple parts! I’m super excited to keep this story going as I have the whole thing planned out in my head already so I can’t wait to actually write it:) anyway, here’s part two!<3 WARNING: Lots and lots of angst, but with humor!

My eyes flash open and the reality of the situation finally hits me. I just blew up my room over an unreciprocated love.

I take some deep breaths and pick myself up off the floor, attempting to flatten out my disheveled hair and wipe away any leftover tears from my face. I quickly walk to the door and open it up a smidge, just letting the corner of my face be visible to the others.

“Good morning!” I state with a yawn, and they look at me as if I’m crazy.

“Good morning? Good morning?! Evie, I heard what sounded like a damn bomb exploding coming from your room at three in the morning. Do not good morning me and let us in.” As usual, Phastos can see right through my facade. He knows this is more than my typical nightmare, and he knows that both him and Ajak have every reason to believe whatever just happened could becoming a threat to the team as a unit.

“I’m fine, Phastos, don’t be dramatic! I had another nightmare and then knocked some shit over in my sleep. I didn’t mean to wake everyone up, i’m just clumsy that’s all. Go back to sleep, it was just a nightmare.”

I say in hopes that everyone will drop it. For a second, I think a majority of them believe me. Sersi gives me a sympathetic look and then turns around to follow Ikaris who has already left, Phastos rolls his eyes but leaves, and then finally Ajak bids me goodnight after making me promise to talk with her about this when everyone is awake. The only one that remains is, of course, Druig.

“Evie. We both know that wasn’t your usual nightmare. What the hell happened in there?” He says with both confusion and concern lacing his words, and as he reaches out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder, I flinch back, causing hurt to flash over his face for a second before quickly shifting back into his usual stone cold demeanor.

“Nothing, Dru. I’m fine. Sorry to interrupt your date for the second time. Goodnight.” I quickly shut the door and press my forehead against it, hoping he walks away soon so I can finish my lame sob session in peace. Yet, no matter how much time has passed, I hear nothing.

You know, locking me out can’t keep me out forever, Eev. I know something is wrong, because you even let me back into your thoughts which you haven’t done for the past century.

I gasp out loud and then curse under my breath for my stupidity, causing Druig to laugh outside the door. I let myself smile a little, because for someone who is older than life itself, I obviously lack the skills for common sense and critical thinking.

Get out of my head, weirdo. Tell me, what do you see? Do you see me dreaming about breakfast because let me tell you Dru, I cannot wait for Phastos and his “I feel sorry for you, here’s a gourmet meal” breakfast platter in the morning.

I wait for a laugh, yet nothing comes. I begin to feel sad again, believing he too gave up on me and my nightmares and walked back to the comfort of Makkari’s arms.

Evie, this is serious. You’ve never had a nightmare like this before. You can joke and deflect all you want but I’m worried about you. I think the entire team is, but I know what your nightmares are usually like. You blowing up your room is not a side effect of them.

My eyes flash up to the doorway, his silhouette visible through the foggy glass door of my bedroom. How the hell did he know about the aftermath of the state of my room?

You let me in, whether you meant to or not. I was able to wake everyone up because I did not know who or what we were going to face when coming into your room. You never let Ajak or Phastos in, which proves to me that you’re not okay. You’ve been distant lately, way more than usual. You don’t talk to me anymore, and I thought it was because of jealousy over Makkari, but obviously it’s something much more serious.

I whip out the door, not even caring that he can most likely see my post breakdown destruction, and shove him against the opposite wall. He gives me a smirk, his famous but gorgeous smirk, and I glare even harder.

“Do you actually think my world revolves around you and your love life? You may have sweet Makkari wrapped around your finger but I am most definitely not.” Lie. All of it was lies. I would let him break my heart if he wanted, which he already has.

“Evie, chill. Let’s all take some deep breaths and not shove me against the wall. I always knew you wanted to be this close to me, I just never expected that tonight would be the night you showed it.” Druig says, laughing as he does, his eye contact with me never waning.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I know he’s only joking and being a douche like he normally always is, but this time it hits different. I have always wanted to be this close to him, ever since the day we met. He’s held my heart in the palm of his hands since the day we arrived, but he’s only ever desired someone else’s.

I can’t change the way he feels about me, but I can change the way I let his daily, empty flirtations get under my skin.

“You wish, Dru. I am way out of your league and you know it.” I fake laugh, letting his shirt leave my fist and take many steps backward, leaning against the wall. He smiles at me too, and the sight alone makes my heart soar.

“I do wish, my love. Alas, the great Evie will never take me as her dearly, beloved husband, as she is sworn to a life of solitude and books. Please, oh please my love, take me as your husband!” He practically yells, causing me to shush him out of nervousness. He then proceeds to get on one knee in front of me and open his palm to hand me exactly what I needed the most in that moment. A sleeping pill.

I let out a loud laugh and eagerly take the pill into my hands, shoving his shoulder as I do so.

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met, but I appreciate you. Thank you, Dru.” I say seriously, looking up at his beautiful, blue eyes.

He wraps me into his arms and places his chin on top of my head, making me feel as if i’ve never been more protected and loved than I am in this very moment. I let myself relax in his arms, wrapping my arms around his torso and placing my cheek against the soft cotton of his pajama shirt. My eyes flutter shut and Druig begins to brush my hair with his hand in an attempt to be comforting.

“I get a hug and a hair brush? So kind!” Druig laughs out loud at my sarcasm and begins to tickle me, causing me to let out a bunch of little giggles and kicks trying to get him away from me.

“I was trying to comfort you, damn let me just give you a hug for once.” He then picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder, my throat letting out a loud screech of pure happiness and joy as he brings us all the way into my room and then sets me down on the bed.

He begins to look around at the damage as I bring my knees closer to my chest, anxiously waiting for him to poke fun at both me and my relentless night terrors. Instead, he turns around to look at me and then gets so close to me that I can feel his warm, minty breath on my face.

He looks me in the eyes and brushes a strand of my loose, tangled hair away from my face and behind my ear. He cups my cheek and I let myself lean into his hand, involuntarily smiling softly as I do so.

“Whatever this is, Eev, you don’t have to face it alone. You’re like family to me. Sure, technically everyone here is my family, but with you I mean it. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

I know he meant well, but the words still stung nonetheless. Family. As in, brother, sister, cousin, friend. For a second out in that hallway I believed we could’ve been something greater, but now I know that was just Druig being his usual flirtatious and smug self.

“Why are you crying? Evie? Evie? Where did you go?” He laughs softly, wiping my stray tears away as I focus back in on the situation before me. I laugh a little, pretending to play it off as fatigue from my eventful night.

You can let me in again, you know. We do have the same power. Whatever you’re feeling, maybe I can tell you if I’ve felt it too?

I remove his hand from my cheek and I feel the rush of the coldness from my room surround me. I look up at him, wanting to let him in and wanting him to see just how much I care about him and love every single aspect of his nature. I love him, his flaws, and even his cocky nature that always leaves my heart in shambles and my cheeks redder than roses. He has my heart, and that’s exactly why it’s breaking.

I’m okay, Dru. Thank you for checking up on me and for giving me this sleeping pill, I probably won’t leave my hibernation for days. But I promise we will talk eventually, I just want to be by myself for a bit to figure everything out.

I can see the frustration evident on his face, as he never truly understood why I blocked him out of my head those many years ago. He doesn’t know that I am madly in love with him, and I promised myself that he never would.

Druig kisses my forehead and I let my eyes shut, taking in every moment of this soon to be beautiful memory. He then stands up and gives me one last sympathetic look as he leaves and shuts my bedroom door behind him. I don’t move as I hear his footsteps recede, and I don’t move still when I hear the melody that is his infectious laughter with Makkari in the other room.

I know he only meant to help, but he made everything worse. His kindness, his beauty, his caring nature, and most importantly, the way that he never judges me or my destructive nightmares has my heart split in two. I have never loved the way I love him, but I have learned (through Thena and her wise words of wisdom) that just because you love something, doesn’t mean that it’s yours. In this moment, Druig is Makkari’s and Makkari is Druig’s.

Me, you ask? My bed has me. My nightmares practically own me. I have nothing other than that.

I tiredly stand up and walk around my mess of a room, and notice that a lot of the edges are frayed with a blue glow. I reach my hand out and timidly touch the edge, with the blue glow beginning to seep through my arms and envelop me like a warm and familiar hug.

My hair lifts off my shoulders as the wind picks up again. Yet, this time it feels different. It doesn’t feel terrifying or painful like the last one was, it feels like a constant hum drumming through my entire body. I feel confident, I feel good.

I look down at my hands and see that little tiny blue orbs are beginning to form in my palms. I flick one up and giggle as it quickly rushes down to be reunited with my hand.

In that moment, I realized that I was going to be okay. Druig may not have me and most likely never will, but my pain about him and his lover will fade. My pain will fade, but this newfound power of mine never will.

If I can’t be somebody’s everything, I simply will become my own.

#druig angst #druig x y/n #eternals #druig x female reader #druig x reader #druig fanfiction #druig fic #druig oneshot #druig headcanon #druig drabble #marvel #movies #comics #druig imagine #druig blurb #druig fluff #barry keoghan

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drarrily-we-row-along · 4 years ago

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Day 12: Adrenaline

"You are such a bloody, fucking arsehole!" Harry shouted, as he burst into his partner's room at St. Mungo's. "I can't believe you."

"Could you lower your voice, please?" Draco asked, he was gingerly rubbing his temples.

"No, I cannot bloody well lower my voice!" Harry seethed as he looked at the other man. Draco was pale and quite obviously in pain, his slender frame resting stiffly against the mattress. "I am unbelievably pissed with you."

"Yes, well, I have a concussion and my head is pounding-"

Harry growled, "Well whose fault is that?"

"Potter, I am begging you to save the theatrics until my potion has kicked in and I'm not seeing sounds," the other man groaned. "Literally begging."

"Well you should have thought of that before you jumped in front of those arseholes who were shooting a stunner and bombarda at me."

Draco groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow, "This has got to be karma. Having your ungrateful arse as my auror partner is karma for all of my past sins. Merlin have mercy."

Harry opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by one of the nurses, Matilda if Harry remembered correctly. "Auror Potter, I'm going to need to ask you to step out of the room."

"Thank fucking Merlin," Malfoy sighed.

Matilda raised an eyebrow, "I'm going to need Auror Malfoy to strip down so we can put his dislocated, and partially shattered, hips back together. It's also going to be fairly painful."

"Good," Harry growled, "Remember this next time you try to put yourself in harm's way for me."

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. After a heartbeat, Harry shoved his glasses up into his hair so he could scrub his hands over his face.

(Read more below the cut)

As the adrenaline faded from his system, Harry's body started to feel a bit weak, legs quaking slightly, his heart hammering against his ribs, breath coming a touch too fast. He staggered away from the door and over to the row of chairs along the wall for people to wait.

Draco cried out in pain on the other side of the door and his fists clenched. He wished he hadn't said that; the other man being in pain wasn't good and he wished he could take it away.

Harry wasn't sure how long he sat there with his head in his hands, hearing the occasional outcry from Draco's room, before Ron showed up and clapped him on the shoulder.

"How is he?" Ron asked as he collapsed next to him.

"Ouch, fuck!" they heard shouted from the room across the hall. "That fucking-" a pause as the other man groaned, "hurts."

"Not great," Harry replied.

Ron nodded, "But conscious."

Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair, "You've finished processing those wankers?"

"Yes," he affirmed. "It was lucky, actually, that Malfoy blocked the spells," he said. "The cases behind you would have exploded with even the slightest hint of magic touching them."

"Great," he said with a sigh, feeling even more guilty.

"He's going to be okay," Ron said softly and to his horror Harry felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes.

"How do you even know that?" Harry asked, "No one told you he was going to be okay."

Ron snorted, "If he wasn't you would have burned everything to the ground by now."

His best friend probably wasn't wrong about that. He couldn't even bear the thought of losing Draco without feeling like he couldn't breathe. "He shouldn't have done that," Harry said finally.

Ron shook his head, "Done what? His job?"

"He shouldn't have put himself in the line of fire," Harry replied. "Not for me."

"Right," Ron said, "Just like you shouldn't put yourself in the line of fire for him, but just last week-"

"It's different," Harry said vehemently.

"It wasn't different for him," Ron said quietly. "I sat here having an identical conversation last week, only it was you in the bed." He shook his head, "Look, mate, you know I'm not ever one to advocate for talking things out, but..." he trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid.

The trouble was that Harry didn't know how to respond, didn't know what to say to Ron or Draco. Before he could come up with anything, Matilda came out of Draco's room. She nodded at Harry, "You can go in now," she offered.

"Is he going to be here overnight?" Ron called.

"He's regrowing bones, Auror Weasley. Yes, he'll be here overnight."

Ron winced, "I'm going to go pick up Indian and bring it back. The food here is terrible."

"Thanks," Harry replied.

"Go on," Ron said, nudging Harry toward the room. "Go get things sorted."

Harry sighed, but squared his shoulders and stood up, moving toward the door and summoning every ounce of his Griffyndor bravery.

When he got to the door he knocked before entering. The moment Draco caught sight of him he groaned, "Potter, please. I can't take the lectures right now. Regrowing bones is a bitch."

Harry drew up a chair beside his bed and didn't say anything for a moment. Then he took a slow deep breath and said, "You terrify me."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and then winced in pain.

Harry continued before he could say anything, "And I know I sound like a complete hypocrite-"

"Too right, you do," Malfoy grunted.

"But it scares the shit out of me," Harry pressed on. "Draco I can't-" he broke off, shaking his head and the other man turned his head to look at him more fully. "I can't lose you."

"And you think that I can lose you?" he countered.

"I don't know," Harry said, "I don't know." He rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

He glanced up in time to see the hurt flash across Draco's face before he reigned it in. "Fine. That's fine. Put in the transfer request and I'll sign it."

"No, I mean all of it," Harry said, clearing his throat. "I can't do the cases, I can't be the reason that people get hurt." He shook his head, "I'm tired, Draco. I'm so tired.” He swallowed, "and I want my life to be more than this."

Draco looked away, staring unseeingly at the set of drawers across from his bed. "Well, I wish you the best then," the other man replied, voice cold as stone.

Harry swallowed and summoned up a bit more courage, "Leave with me," he said.

"What?"

"Leave with me. Let's start our own business, we can become private investigators and get out from under all of the bureaucratic bullshit. Or let's do anything else. Literally anything. You want to have a coffee shop? Done. Quidditch supply store? I'm there. Want to remodel homes? Count me in. I will do anything that you want to," Harry closed his eyes, imaging it, then he said, "because if we're not Auror partners anymore, I can finally tell you the truth."

"What truth?" the other man asked hesitantly.

He took a deep breath and blew it out before sitting up straighter in his chair. "I'm in love with you," Harry said simply.

Draco blinked once, then a second time as he stared uncomprehendingly at Harry. "Potter, what?" Draco spluttered. "I'm the one with the concussion here, not you. Did you hit your head? Are you feeling confused?"

Harry laughed, "No, I'm not. Honestly, everything feels simpler than it has in ages. I don't expect you to feel the same or anything, we can stay friends-"

"Are you joking?" Draco asked and Harry winced and looked down at where his hands were clenched, clasping one another. The other man continued, "You don't expect me to feel the same? How could you possibly think I don't feel the same?"

Harry's head snapped up, "What?"

"Potter, I've been in love with you since the Alvarez case."

"Really?" he asked incredulously. That case had happened years ago at this point. It was one of their first cases together.

Draco nodded, "It's stupid, but watching you with that little boy-"

"Julian," Harry said, nodding at the memory.

"You were so sweet with him and so protective. And I realized that it wasn't an act, it's just who you are and I was doomed." He shook his head, "Of course I'm in love with you, you idiot."

He stared at him for a moment, looked into those clear silver eyes that he loved so much, "Can I kiss you?"

"Very gently," Draco replied, "Because as much as I would like to kiss you, my head is still killing me and I'm not supposed to move my neck very much."

Harry huffed a soft laugh before moving closer. He cupped his cheek and gently trailed his thumb over Draco's bruised cheekbone, trying to avoid causing any more pain. His eyes flicked up to Draco's before he closed them and leaned in touch their lips together. Two soft pecks were all he allowed himself before pulling back and brushing a feather-light kiss over his temple.

"Ah!" Ron blurted from the doorway, making both Harry and Draco jump, "Sorry, I'll come back-"

"Ron, it's fine," Harry said, pressing one more soft kiss to Draco's forehead before collapsing back into the chair beside the bed.

"No, I want to have plausible deniability at the Ministry when-"

"I'm quitting," Harry said.

"We're quitting," Draco added.

Harry grinned at him, "Really?"

"Yes," he said, smiling back.

"And you should quit too," Harry said, turning to Ron, "Come join our private detective firm."

"But first, bring us that Indian food," Draco said.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Years of this," he said gesturing between the two of them. "Years of watching you two idiots pining after one another and that's it. You just decide to quit?"

"Yes, well," Harry replied, clearing his throat, "I think I'm going to need to have more free time than the ministry allows."

"Oh, is that so?" Draco replied with a smirk, his voice smooth like honey.

"Alright," Ron said, "That is enough of that. If you want me to come work with you, we're going to need to nip that in the bud right now."

Harry laughed and held up his hands in surrender.

"I am happy for you two, though," Ron said.

"Me, too." Harry replied. Suddenly looking forward to the future more than he had in a long time.

Day 11: Pinky Promise | Day 13: Drunk

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #auror partners #injured on a case #love confessions #idiots in love #thanks for the prompt anon #enjoy!#day 12 #day 12: adrenaline

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years ago

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Whumptober2021 - October 4th - Taken Hostage | Pushed

Gift fic to @fidothefinch <3

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Near death experience, hostage situations, implies Bruce as a shitty dad but I don't go into detail on it.

---

If there’s anything in the world that Dick hates more than being restrained, it’s being held hostage. Especially if he’s being held hostage as a threat against Bruce or Batman. One thing they don’t tell you in the foster system is that if you’re adopted by a rich and famous to the Kardashian level man, is that you’re often the target of criminals who think snatching a kid on their way home from school is a surefire way to make a million bucks. It’s no better in the vigilante business either, because often any hero in Gotham is only seen as a stepping stool to getting to Batman.

Honestly, at this point Dick’s used to it. It doesn’t mean he enjoys it, though. Not so much because of the initial kidnapping part, but because he’s worked hard to become his own person, his own man with his own life. He moved to Bl��dhaven to be anything other than the son of Bruce Wayne; to be his own hero that villains learn to fear. And then the second he sets foot back in Gotham, for whatever reason, suddenly it’s all about the reclusive eldest Wayne child returning home! Suddenly, when villains see him at night, it isn’t “Oh shit, it’s Nightwing!”, it’s “Shit, it’s a Sidekick! Where’s the Bat?!”

Anyway, long story short, Dick came back to Gotham for one weekend to visit family, and now he’s dressed as Nightwing, standing on a roof with duct-tape keeping his wrists together behind his back and a knife to his throat belonging to a shady businessman who’s finally caught the attention of Gotham’s heroes.

And it’s sorta pathetic how Dick ended up in this situation. It wasn’t like this was going to be a particularly difficult mission. Just sneak into the building, grab the evidence he needed to get this bastard behind bars, and then get out. Unfortunately, someone tipped the man off without Bruce knowing about it. When he went into the main office, he was met with a very strong guard hiding behind the doors, and after a hefty blow to the head and a few concerning minutes of blacking out, Dick opened his eyes—thankfully still masked—to find himself kneeling on the rough cement of a skyscraper’s roof, completely stripped of any of his useful tools. He has a small knife in one of his gauntlets, but it’s not exactly in an easy to reach position. It would take time to grab at it, and that’s not counting the high probability he’ll be spotted by Jerome McCoy--Gotham’s latest shady businessman--or any of his goons.

Besides, Tim is already up here listening to their demands to get Batman up here or Dick dies. It shouldn’t be long before Bruce gets here and kicks his ass. That’s not even accounting for the facts that Jason, Steph, Duke, Dami, and Cass are all in town.

These idiots have no clue how close they are with dealing with close to every single bat if something bad happens to Dick tonight.

And everything was going fine until Tim suddenly stopped mid sentence in reminding McCoy that Batman was on his way and brought his hand to his communicator in his ear. When Tim paled ever so slightly, Dick knew something had gone exactly NOT according to plan.

“What is it?!” McCoy demands, pressing the knife against Dick’s neck with worrying pressure. Dick leans his head back slightly to lessen the risk of his neck being cut and meets Tim in the eyes through their masks.

Tim swallows. “Batman is being held up-”

Dick resists sighing in both disappointment and lack-of-surprise as McCoy practically explodes.

“What?!

“Only for a few hours,” Tim rushes to explain. He’s lifted his hands in a placid manner and softened his voice, which can’t be good. “He’s… met an unexpected complication along the way that he cannot ignore. Please, just tell me what you want, and I can take my partner and be out of-”

“I don’t have a few hours,” McCoy practically screeches. “Either Batman makes it his priority to get here, or Nightwing gets it!” to make a point, McCoy lifts the knife from Dick’s neck and waves it in front of him. Dick slides his eyes over to the other goons on the roof; there’s only a few. Maybe… if Dick plays his cards right… “That was the deal!”

“I understand-”

“Tell Batman to get here now, or Nightwing’s blood is on his hands!”

“He’s busy- I can’t just-”

Dick slams his body back, pointing his elbow the furthest he can with the way his arms are bound and jamming it into McCoy’s stomach. McCoy lets out a startled, breathless gasp as Dick uses his surprise to escape from his grasp and jump to his feet.

“’Wing!” Tim yells at the same time McCoy wheezes “Get that fucker!”

Dick has just a second to notice Tim’s shock at Dick’s sudden attack before Dick’s having to defend himself with his hands literally tied behind his back. Sorry, kid, Dick thinks, ducking around a pair of beefy arms, but we’re out of options.

It was going well until it wasn’t. Tim was even about to step in. However, while waking up from his lovely whack to the head, Dick failed to assess just where he was on the roof.

All it took was for the back of his heel to tough nothing but air for his heart to jump to his throat. Instinctively, he tried to wave his arms to catch his balance, but was quickly reminded of his predicament when the tape tugged against his wrists. For a moment, pure panic filled his entire body, here, wobbling backwards off the edge of a roof dozens of stories above the ground. He could feel his heart pound, hands shake, breath catch, hair rustle in the wind, but he couldn’t do a thing to stop himself from falling backwards. He’s pretty sure he hears Tim scream his codename, but he’s not totally focused on anything other than his pending doom right now-

A heavy hand wraps around his upper-bicep, stopping his almost-promised journey to pancake town. Everything is silent on the roof for a solid moment, as Dick practically hangs over the ledge of the roof with his feet just barely still on solid ground, a goon holding him juuuuuust enough to make sure he doesn’t fall. Tim looks even paler than before, looking like he really did watch Dick go over the edge. McCoy looks a constipating mixture of smug and outraged while the other goons stand nearby like useless props.

Then, McCoy speaks with anger as heavy and level as stone. “Tell Batman I want him here in ten minutes.”

Tim meets Dick’s eyes, and Dick sees everything that he needs to. Whatever is holding Bruce up, it’s more important than Dick, and Tim knows it’s useless to even try.

“Please,” Tim says, voice wobbly. He’s a detective. He knows what’s about to happen. “Just give us more time-”

McCoy snaps a finger, and that’s that.

The hand on his arm pushes Dick away and opens it’s grasp. It doesn’t matter anymore that Dick had his feet on the roof, because the rest of his body is falling.

Falling.

Dick’s completely off the roof in a blink of an eye and he’s falling.

The air is rushing past his ears and through his hair, so loud he can barely think. That’s if he’s thinking at all, as story after story passes him by. He’s falling, and for the first time in a long time, he’s afraid of falling, because this time there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He doesn’t have any tools… he doesn’t even have his hands, nor enough time to even try and get his hands free. He’s falling, rushing to the ground. He can already see in vivid detail what his body will look like when it hits the pavement.

He’s falling. He’s standing at the top of a beam, watching his mama and papa fall. He’s falling. He’s screaming as the sound of their bodies landing and snapping reaches his ears. He’s falling and he’s going to die in the most Grayson way possible.

He’s going to die the same way his parents did, a way that he’s worked hard to not be afraid of ever since he first moved in with Bruce, but was always secretly terrified.

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to watch. He’s afraid, and Tim will watch from above and blame himself and he never wanted any of his siblings to blame themselves for his death like how he blamed himself for his parent’s for decades and-

And the wind is knocked out of him, but not from his body slamming on the ground. A strong arm wraps painfully around his stomach, and suddenly the world turns sideways and his eyes shoot open in shock.

“Fuck,” Jason grunts, holding Dick with one arm and the other wrapped tightly in a grappling line. “Fucking hell.”

And Dick… doesn’t know what to do. He feels muted, like a YouTube video playing at 144p and buffering still. The adrenaline is pumping so loudly through his entire body that the fact that Jason’s caught him doesn’t register until Jason’s landing roughly on the ground and lowering Dick to the asphalt.

“Started heading over the second that bastard said he wasn’t coming,” Jason explains. Dick nods numbly, his eyes locked on the oil covered road below him, his mind still trying to process. “Said he ran into some bastard working for Two-Face holding some rich family hostage. Said we could handle it. I can’t believe I got here just in time. Fucking fuck-face fucker.”

There’s a splash of two feet landing on the permanently puddled street beside them, and Dick can hardly contain his flinching at the sound, but thankfully Jason doesn’t notice. He just stands up and faces where Tim has landed quite suddenly from where he must have grappled down from the roof. Dick continues to look at the ground, wringing his knitting together in front of him. He… hasn’t noticed Jason undid the bindings.

“What happened to McCoy?” Jason demands, and Tim takes a gasping breath and shakes his head.

“They ran into the building while I… jumped after N.”

Jason growls, taking a step forward but Tim stops him. “Orphan said she’ll handle it, she sounded pissed.”

Jason backs off, but anger still curls in his stomach like an old friend. His fists clench to his side. “Once I see B, I’m gonna punch his teeth up to his brain.”

And it must be proof of how shaken Tim is, because he doesn’t argue.

Then, like a pin hitting tile, a small sound catches Jason’s ears. He looks down to where Dick is still sitting in the grime of Gotham’s street. His heart sinks to his gut.

“N?” he asks, and Dick doesn’t respond. “Nightwing, you’re… crying.”

That directs Tim’s attention down where tears are certainly streaming down Dick’s cheeks from under his mask. His lips are wobbling, and the second Jason kneels down to put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, a wounded sound escapes his lips.

“Dick?” Jason asks, his voice sounding shocked and unsure.

Dick looks up at Tim, looking one breath of the wind from falling apart. “You jumped after me?” His voice is small and brittle. When Tim nods slowly, Dick whimpers, dropping his head into his hands and letting out a sob. “You almost watched me die,” is all he says before he finally breaks down into mournful cries.

Jason looks up from where Dick’s now shaking and gasping into his hands and meets Tim’s eyes. Neither of them… has ever seen Dick get like this before. It feels wrong, like something in the world has shattered and can never be replaced.

“Lets… get him home,” Jason says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” is all Tim can smartly bring to his lips while Jason scoops Dick into his arms and stands up.

Dick’s so out of it with his sobbing that he hardly reacts, just curls against Jason and continues to cry.

“You know,” Jason says quietly, “the scariest way to die, for me, is to overdose.”

And Tim understands.

“I… see.”

Jason nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. So let’s just call it a night, get him some Alfred cookies, and just… let him take this at his own pace, okay?”

Tim nods, knowing that after years of Dick always going out of his way to help them with their trauma, their issues, and never asking for anything in return… it’s now their turn to return the favor. Dick looks so much smaller than Tim swears he’s ever seen him, curled up in Jason’s arms, trembling and sobbing. He silently promises to himself that he will do whatever it takes to make sure Dick gets through this, just like what he’d do for them, always. And Tim’s positive the rest of Dick’s siblings will do the same.

#dick grayson #nightwing #batman #whumptober2021 #no.4 #taken hostage #pushed #near death tw #fanfiction #jin writes

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fireheartfaery · 4 years ago

Text

and i fell apart

I got very obsessed with maelin and went on a tumbles binge. While the content is INCREDIBLE there just wasn't enough so I'm adding to the pile with *gestures to whatever this is*. Please enjoy! Let's not pretend this was edited lmaooo

to Jana (@flamingveritas): for the compliments and falling down the maelin rabbit hole with me

i highly recommend listening to rosier/punk2 by brakence while reading this. if i could i would have just copy pasted the song and made that the fic.

I left home now I'm fucked up

Realized how much I loved you

Whole goddamn life, been a suck-up

Now I'm just tryna get my luck up

All the pain went when you kissed me

—rosier/punk2, brakence

Manon has indulged, feverently and with vicious delight, in all manner of debauchery and sin over her many years. She has sipped the blood of men like fine whiskey, and kissed women like morning dew clinging to rosy petals. Most especially, she has never denied herself a pleasure.

Once her gold eyes lock on a target it's as good as hers, already weaving into her present and past. It is no longer a thing of the future to her. No because that would imply she still needed to get it, that it was not hers yet. It is something she simply refuses to accept.

Which is why, blood boiling, iron nails glinting viciously in the midday sun, she snarls at the blonde haired, blue eyed queen. The most beautiful being she has ever seen and by far the most infuriating. Manon has never wanted to lick someone's lips while simultaneously driving a dagger through their heart so godsdamn much in her life.

"Get your ass back here, Queen." She can barely keep the growl out of her voice. She feels half beast.

"Fuck you Witch," Aelin sneers, "You don't get to tell me what to do. Not anymore."

Manon is in front of her before the wind can catch in her snow white hair. With another grumble clawing through her throat, she plants her feet in front of the blonde. It takes everything in her not to melt at the fierce beauty she is met with. Gold spun hair, rivaling her own eyes, and sun smattered freckles and arched eyebrows. There's a look in the queen's eye that makes Manon want to pull them too close for decency and see how much of the pretty gold ring swallows that blue gaze.

"You owe me." She says instead. There is no gentleness in her voice. They have never been gentle with each other.

"I owe you nothing." Aelin spits. "I stopped having anything to do with you the day you left me."

"I didn't leave you." She explodes. She cannot go on like this. She can't bear it.

"Oh," The queen's voice takes on that high pitched tone, as if she's attempting to be snappy but her emotion is betraying her. She carries on despite it all. "Well, sorry for thinking that coming home to a note that says 'I'll be gone for a some time' and then not having a wife for ten years doesn't count to you."

There are tears running down that beautiful face and it makes every part of Manon wither away. She is made of iron but it takes one look at Aelin's crumpling composure to reduce her to rust and ruin.

"If I was gone for three hundred years I would still be your wife. No matter how long, or how far." Her voice is disturbed dust on a locked chest.

"Please leave." The queen shakes her head, stumbling backwards, away from her, from them. "I can't do this. I won't."

"I'm not going anywhere Aelin." Her voice cracks and she wants to curse herself for sounding so weak. But this is not a matter of blood and teeth and enemy. This is a matter of heart and she would always be weak when it came to the person who owned hers.

"That's what you said every day before you left for a decade." It is so quiet, so unbelievably quiet it feels almost as if the world hushed to hear that statement.

Her chest feels like it's been struck by lightning. She cannot imagine anything else would make her heart beat so fast while killing her so slowly.

"I didn't have a choice." She shakes her head. The words are coming out wrong. Will they ever be right?

"You had the choice to tell me."

At this her mouth curls into a snarl, gold eyes flashing with rage. "I would never have put your life in danger like that."

"We could have faced it together." Aelin bites her quivering lower lip. "Like we always have."

"I will never risk you, I will never put you in harms way if I can handle it myself."

"Maybe you could have handled it Manon," Her wife sighs, tears still rippling down her golden cheeks. They carve rivers over her freckles, making them stones on the riverbed. "Or maybe we could have done it together and it would have taken five years instead of ten. Or maybe you could have gone alone and I would have kissed you goodbye and said come back soon."

"That is—"

"Instead," The blonde interrupts, sadness, true grief, covering her face like a veil. "Instead I woke up to an empty bed one morning and it just never ended. Everyday I wondered if you had left because you no longer loved me, or if you had been dragged away, or if you went on a mission and had not survived it. Every day I thought of your white hair and your gold eyes and the smile you have when the wind dances across your skin and I didn't understand why I could no longer see it, see you."

Tears, hot and salty, stream down Manon's face. It is violent and full of agony. She isn't going to survive this. How could she?

"But I'm back now." She gutters.

"For how long?" The question is laced with exhaustion as if it had been asked to the point of meaningless.

How long will she be gone? How long can I live like this? How long should I wait before I try to find her? How long before I realize she doesn't want to be found? How long has she stopped loving me? She sees the questions reflected in those blue-jeweled eyes. It snaps the chords of her heart, like broken piano strings.

"Forever."

"That tells me nothing."

She doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to make this right. She would do anything. She would suffer through hell if it meant making this okay again. If it meant standing by her wife's side once more, instead of loving her from so far away.

"Please Aelin," She breaks, cracks so hard her jaw snaps. "How do I make this better? How do I fix us?"

"I don't know," Blonde hair glitters in the sun as she shakes her head. It catches like a halo. "I don't know and it hurts so much and I can't—" She is hyperventilating.

Manon wants to go to her, wants to wrap her arms around the queen and hold her until they've both stitched themselves back together. But she knows she will be shoved away, so far and so fast she will not be able to recover.

"I love you Aelin." She says. Her voice is quiet but her words are clear as Terassen waters. "And I will love you through every season to come, and every sunset we witness while on the back of abraxos, and every morning I catch you with chocolate cake before breakfast, and every evening that you read a book to me, and every moment I find your lips perfectly slanted over mine. I will love you through this life."

They had never placed their love in the past. Manon had never said "I have loved you since", she always says, "I will love you through..."

"And I will love you through the next."

The sobs that wrack the queen's body make the witch's hands shake. She cannot believe she has hurt her love so much, so carelessly, so destructively.

"I don't need you to love me through the next. I needed you to love me through this one."

"I do!" She cries. "I do, I do, I do. How could I not?" There is distance between them that no bridge can cross, but she can reach out a hand and brush her fingers across a tear-streaked cheek. So close in body, so far in heart.

"I will not survive if you leave me again." Her queen sobs. Manon sobs with her.

"I cannot survive leaving you."

Hands, smaller than hers, infinitely more warm, find her own. "I love you through the darkness."

"Until it claims us." She finishes softly.

And ever so gently, intertwined only by their fingers, they begin to stitch together. The future is theirs, and it is the only guarantee.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

[image id: white all caps text, on a black background, that reads, “i thought you were dead”. end id]

#maelin #manon x aelin #aelin x manon #manon blackbeak #aelin ashryver whitethorn galathynius #fds fanfic

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

Note

There’s a trend going around tiktok where people wait for their s/o other to come home/they walk in on them naked. How would the bnha boys react? (Any you choose!)

i didn’t really know who asked this and what their preference in character is. but tbh, if you come and ask me for the bnha boys, these are “the boys”: bakugou, kaminari, kirishima, midoriya, todoroki. so I hope you enjoy!

also this got horny, sorry

bakugou; kaminari; kirishima; midoriya; todoroki x fem!reader

warnings: smutty

bakugou katsuki is the boyfriend who gets greeted at home with you being naked. you’re hidden behind the kitchen counter at first, eyes focused on him while he slowly puts down his things from work. talking to you with his back to you, you slowly make your way out from behind the counter in your naked glory to him finally turning around mid-sentence. he had been complaining about work again, nothing new, nothing serious, and he’s greeted by the sight of your naked chest.

now, bakugou would never admit that he gets overly excited about sex, never in a million years would he say that. but the smirk on his his face is undeniable, neither is the way that he presses your naked skin against the cold marble before you could blink. the freezing stone making you shriek while his heated body grinds into yours.

you couldn’t wiggle your way out of his grasp, your fingers pushing at his shoulders because while you wanted a reaction you weren’t expecting this from your goody two shoed boyfriend. you, however, were powerless when his mouth begins to trail hot and wet open mouthed kisses on your neck, ignoring your pitched mewls.

“I just got home and you’re already wanting to be fuck?” he growls into your neck, his fingers digging into your skin. “didn’t you know its common courtesy to wait for me to settle in? do I need to teach you some lessons baby girl?”

your eyes flutter, fingers groping his buttons in your attempt to get the damn shirt off, “try your worst in getting me to change my habits.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

kaminari denki is the boyfriend who is aware of the challenge even before it becomes a trend. he won’t lie, he cannot wait for you to find it and try it out on him. so he decides to keep himself busy until you do find it.

he was wasting his days away by playing video games, more engrossed with your mindless scrolling through tiktok than anything. now you’re not an idiot, you had seen the challenge a few days after kaminari because your girl friends had shared the first viral video on your groupchat and everyone wanted to try it out on their s/o’s but you had to be patient.

It wasn’t until kaminari was wrapping up a report on his laptop did you finally emerge from your bedroom, towel long forgotten on the floor while you leisurely leaned against the door frame. your eyes sparkling in joy when kaminari looks around at you, his eyes – for lack of a better term – exploding in his head.

“hi baby–” you begin, your gaze turning sultry, seductive.

“bedroom, now,” kaminari expresses with excited urgency, his hands attaching right under your pert ass, groping the soft flesh in his calloused hands. his lips immediately swallowing your gentle moans until he had you on the mattress of your bed. “you had me waiting too long for this, baby, but good things come to those who wait.”

“that’s my line, stupid.”

your giggles were interrupted by his mouth latching onto your breasts, a breathless gasp escaping your lips.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

kirishima eijirou is the boyfriend who is wrapped up in video games when you decide to try this out. he’s delightfully playing online with some friends when you entire the room, body entirely naked, mind made up that you were more important than ten more minutes of playing some game that he and your old classmates sucked ass at.

you dropped your towel with all your strength, hoping that the noise made it through his headphones while he slammed a whole bunch of keys. kirishima glanced over at you, his eyes concerned, and upon seeing that you were not angry turned back to his screen, a sentence on his tongue before it clicked exactly what the state of appearance you were in. he whips around to stare at you, jaw to his lap, a boner already growing in place while you sauntered towards him.

“don’t worry,” you whisper just loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough that the mic wouldn’t pick it up. “finish up your game.”

kirishima lets out the pitchiest whine when you remove his shorts and boxers and sink onto his cock. you suppress your moans at the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out, the pleasure singeing your toes, and his cock twitching well within you.

“damn, ei, don’t tell me your girl is sucking you off right now! what a fucking animal you have.” you hear sero’s voice laughing through his headphones and kirishima’s breathing is ragged when he denies it. but good god, the feeling of his slowly thrusting hips into you for the next ten minutes was more than enough for his friends to quickly realize that you were not sucking him off, but instead riding him.

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midoriya izuku was studying intently when this cruel idea came across your head. his face practically buried within his fifty different notebooks for some test that the hero agency he was currently working as a side kick was having. you admired his tenacity, it was a skill you truly wished you had.

but he had been studying for days and was passing every mock test you made for him with perfect scores! nothing was tearing his attention away from his studies. not even wanting to watch the old all might movies! so, you had to think about this.

what was one way to crack midoriya open like a nut? you blinked, a sly smirk spreading on your face. your boyfriend was a pervert.

announcing you were going to shower, midoriya nodded his head and you went to go get that done. soon enough you had showered and you spent a small amount of time to fix yourself in the mirror. making sure your wet hair looked hot on your body instead of like a wet dog. finally happy with your appearance, you strolled out to the bedroom, tossing the wet towel on his hunched form.

midoriya looked around, his face confused as to why you would throw a towel at him. but the words died on his lips when he took in your form. despite how he behaved in bed, his cheeks flushed a beautiful red, and you enjoyed the way his eyes drank in your form. he turned in his chair, his studies forgotten.

his leg rested upon his knee, his hands folding on his thigh.

“turn around, sweetheart,” he commands, his tongue dragging across his lips. “I need to take in how you look before I have my way with you tonight.” you only get halfway around before midoriya is pressed against you, fingers pressing bruises against your hips. “you’re fucking gorgeous…”

“shut up and prove it.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

todoroki shouto was trying to find some good soba restaurants when you decided to capture his attention with this lewd trend. with his favorite hole in the wall shutting down due to the owners being too old he needed a new location and fast. you, on the other hand, was just horny out of your mind and wanted nothing more than to get your boyfriends attention on your needy body.

todoroki focused on the screen, his fingers on his chin while he studied the different reviews. he was taking this very seriously when you decided to strip naked behind him. you were grateful for how intensely he was taking his research because he never once looked behind him while you de-robed in the living room. but when you were ready, you strolled into the kitchen before him, naked as the day you were born, easily moving around.

“shouto,” you called out, holding a random piece of dish-ware in your hands. “do you think we have enough plates?”

todoroki, never one to not make eye contact with you when speaking, looked up and froze. his eyes widened the slightest bit, but besides that he had no reaction to your naked state. well, almost no reaction. when his eyes returned back to his screen you could see the air around him reacting to the temperature change his body was going through.

resisting the urge to laugh, you walked over to shouto, your fingers slipping under his shirt, nails lightly raking against his skin. “I want your attention,” you pout, lacing his skin with your intoxicating kisses that left his body scorching against your lips. “won’t you help your girl out?”

todoroki expels a shaky breath, and without a moments hesitation he has you in his arms, hands firmly placed against your ass, your legs tight against his waist.

“you’re such a fucking tease, princess,” he growls in his chest, fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples. you moan loudly, his teeth biting onto your lower lip, gazes locked on one another. “I don’t like being teased.”

you ground against his forming boner, grinning when he shudders, “then do something about it, baby.”

#bakugou x reader #kaminari x reader #kirishima x reader #midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader

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kingreywrites · 4 years ago

Text

So Pardon The Dust

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2493

Summary: When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years.

Note: this is bittersweet, but the idea couldn’t leave me alone, and i had to write it out! so yeah, edmund’s death is heavily talked about, be careful if that’s not your thing! I just love Destinies Collide, and love what-ifs, so this story was born from there asghdh

Read on ao3

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years.

They don't know that. What they do know is that once their travel in a shaky gondola over an immense rift ends, everything seems too easy. The kingdom is dark, cold, smells of dust and rust permeating the air, and it makes it hard to imagine that anyone has ever lived in such a place. But Rapunzel's hair pushes her forward, and they don't spend any more time thinking about it.

They enter the equally dark and cold castle, searching for the moonstone.

Desperate for a flicker of warmth, Lance lights a fire in a lifeless living room with no windows. Eugene's gaze is drawn to a painting, throning above the fireplace and depicting a man and a woman he presumes to be the king and queen.

He cannot explain the deep uneasiness he feels at the sight, or even why he can hardly tear his eyes away from the picture. His heart is racing, and he explains it by blaming it on his concern for Rapunzel.

The queen's smile remains etched in his mind as he moves forward.

The king has been dead for years. They don't know it, but Eugene finds a room filled with overhanging statues and, sitting in front of a gigantic door, is a tiny skeleton covered in too big clothes and dust. A dark crown still hangs grotesquely on its head, but the first thing Eugene sees is the purple gem necklace between the fingers of its single hand. The same as the queen's in the painting.

Eugene has a bitter taste in his mouth. Rapunzel holds his hand, also upset, and he remembers that they are here for her, and for her destiny. He holds her fingers tighter between his, and they move toward the door.

The ghosts are… certainly a surprise.

Death is not something new to Eugene, yet he can't help but feel nauseous when the king's ghost appears so close to his own skeleton, eyes full of a melancholy and anger that only he understands.

He doesn't seem to be capable of speech. He just groans and attacks, mindlessly guarding the stone that cost him his life. When Adira arrives to help them, she calls him Edmund, a soft grief in her voice, and Eugene keeps the name in a corner of his head. Edmund. Not a ghost, not a skeleton, but Edmund, who protected his kingdom until he died trapped within it.

Finally, Eugene is the one who destroys his statue. He cuts off its head, and tries to forget how a few seconds before, it was his own that could have been lost, if the king's axe had not struck beside it. Luck saved his life this time.

Adira asks Rapunzel to enter the moonstone chamber by herself. She says that it's her destiny, and hers alone. Eugene wants to protest, worry burning in his heart, but he doesn't even have the time - Rapunzel looks at Cassandra, and announces that the three of them will go inside. He should be relieved, but he can't help but take another look at the king's- Edmund's body. Many people have died for this stone, and the more time passes, the more terrified he is of what awaits them on the other side. He knows death, more than any other member of this group probably; he's been around it personally. He promised himself when he came back to life, that he would never let Rapunzel die the way he did, slowly and violently, when she has so much to live for.

He doesn't know where this promise will lead him.

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king is dead. They enter easily, and though the ghosts of past rulers stand in their way, the path to the moonstone is far from the most difficult adventure he has ever experienced. Eugene is worried, of course he is - he's afraid of the conclusion of their journey, afraid of what he cannot predict. Rapunzel tells him she loves him, and he almost wants to throw up, because they're in the middle of a kingdom murdered by that exact stone Rapunzel intends to grab. I love you too, he thinks, but can't manage to say, because the words sound like a goodbye, and he's not ready for that. He'd die one thousand times for her, if she asked him to. He'd die for her against her will too, if necessary, but he knows he can't get in the way today. As desperate as he is to protect her, he knows how much she values being able to draw her own path.

He wants to grab the moonstone first because he loves her, and because he loves her, he stays back.

That's not the case for everyone. He notices too late Cass running for it, and Demanitus' warning echoes once again in his ears, mocking now that the only thing he can do is try to pull Rapunzel to safety as the world explodes in colours. The king is dead, and their friendship with Cassandra is too, the shadow of Gothel haunting Rapunzel once again despite how much she deserves to be free from it. Cassandra flees, Eugene hurts his arm when she pushes him away, and Rapunzel runs after her, desperate to salvage what can be.

It doesn't amount to much, in the end.

Things settle down, as much as they can while Rapunzel still sits listlessly near the broken bridge Cassandra left behind, and Eugene goes in the castle again, in search of bandages this time. His left arm hurts.

He doesn't expect to find Adira, standing silently in front of... Edmund. Her back is rigid, her mouth in a straight line, but when he calls her name, he sees a foreign melancholy in her eyes. He doesn't know her that well, but there's a lot Eugene can understand from looking into somebody's eyes.

Adira sighs, shoulders lowering, and he's sure she hears his unsaid question. "I shouldn't be surprised," she says, but it's clear that in a way, she is. "I… knew, that King Edmund was not well, when we left. I often considered that he might very well be…" she trails off, her eyes falling on his body again.

"It's different to be sure," Eugene responds softly, his voice loud in the silence of this immense room. Watching them - Adira, and this skeleton, barely hanging together enough to recognise a human shape - it was difficult to conceive that once upon a time, they had stood here together, alive and happy, perhaps. He can't imagine what it feels like to see an old friend this way, with no warning. "Adira…"

"It's okay, Fishskin," she smiles, and in her voice, he could hear the echoes of all the time Rapunzel told him she was fine, because she didn't know how to act when she was not.

He barely knows Adira. Both because he didn't ask, and because she didn't want him, or anyone, to know her. But he can guess easily that her life had never been one of peace, not even before leaving the Dark Kingdom, and losing contact with the other members of the Brotherhood. He doesn't think she's unhappy, per se, but he- he knows, they all know, especially now after everything that happened, that anger and fear and grief are not emotions that should be let to fester until they explode. Maybe it's his worry for Rapunzel speaking; maybe he's confusing everything, and Adira is simply dealing with the situation the way she wants to, but before he can think better of it, Eugene takes a step forward, and asks her if she wants to bury the king's body.

"To- To give him a better resting place," he explains awkwardly, her eyes piercing right through him. He's ready to say sorry and hope she doesn't kill him for overstepping her boundaries, but, to his surprise, she softens, a genuine if sad smile on her lips.

"Actually Fishskin, that's… a great idea."

And so they do it. Adira finds a bear hood that the King used to wear - Dabney, she says reverently - and they place his bones in it, carefully moving everything in tandem. They don't really talk while doing it. There's not much to be said. Eugene thinks of this king, who was so desperate to save his kingdom that he doomed it, and he thinks about death, too. About how lonely it is.

Adira leads them down a few corridors, and they emerge in a small, grey looking garden. They walk until they find an unmarked tombstone.

"The queen," Adira announces shortly, and Eugene wonders if she helped bury her too.

It's not the first time Eugene digs a grave for someone. He remembers starkly getting out of the tower with Rapunzel, both of them entirely different people than who they were before, and finding a cloak and ashes at the bottom of it. He remembers how quietly distraught Rapunzel had been, and how he had proposed to bury what was left of Gothel.

Shaking his head, he tries to think about something else, but it's hard given the situation. His arm aches at each of his movements. Surprisingly, Adira breaks the silence, and that's enough to distract him.

"I often disagreed with King Edmund," she says, without looking at him. "He was a good king, but his duty to the moonstone blinded him to the bigger picture, and I was afraid that it would lead him, and us, to lose everything. I was right, as I often am," she chuckles, but there's no mirth behind it. Simply grief. Something that can't be quite put into words.

"How did he lose his arm?" Eugene asks, voice low as they finally lower the bones into the ground. His eyes catch the sight of the necklace falling aside, and when they're done, he picks it up, thumb running over the smooth surface of the gem.

"The queen died," Adira whispers. She's looking at the necklace too, when he raises his head. "Edmund's grief led him to act on the anger he had been repressing for too long, but the moonstone was much more powerful than he imagined. Its retaliation costs him everything he held dear."

Gently, Adira takes the necklace from him, and Eugene can't explain the impulse that makes him want to hold onto it for a little while longer.

He's sentimental, he reasons. There's something deeply touching about this man dying while looking at the last thing connecting him to his late wife. These are good explanations, but neither of them addresses the unease and bitterness rising in Eugene's throat. He doesn't understand it himself.

Adira looks at the necklace for a long time, emotions he can't name in her expression. Memories she will not share make her frown, and Eugene feels more and more like he doesn't belong in this moment.

"Should we… bury that with him?" he asks awkwardly. Adira bites her lips, and finally shakes her head.

"This necklace was special for the queen. I know she intended to pass it down to her children."

A terrible voice in Eugene's mind reminds him that it's too late - they both died, and that necklace, that tradition, died with them too. He's hit by the tragedy of it all again, relentlessly reminded that the king passed away long before anyone could try to save him. And they would have, Rapunzel would have convinced him to let her through, she would have given him faith, Eugene is sure of that. He thinks that's why he's angry, too. The king has been dead for years, maybe, alone and desperate until his very last moments. And Eugene, Eugene wishes to go back in time, and give him another chance, get him the help he needed before it was too late.

He has never been good at accepting unhappy endings.

"When… When King Edmund banished us from the Dark Kingdom," Adira continues, "he also made another sacrifice. He sent his son away, when he was barely a baby, to be raised far from the moonstone and its dangers."

Son. A baby, sole survivor of the royal family, who probably doesn't know he is. A baby, who isn't one anymore now, but who is probably alive, and the thought is enough for Eugene to feel something new - he'd call this hope, but he's not sure that it fits. Closure, perhaps.

"You want to give their son the necklace," he smiles shakily.

"That's what needs to be done," Adira agrees, before putting away the necklace in her pocket. The gem catches the moonlight one last time, shining brighter than before, and it's easier for Eugene to let go, this time. "However, I did not keep track of the prince. I don't know what became of him, after we left, but I will keep searching until I find him."

"Hey," Eugene grins, wanting to lighten the atmosphere a little, "you searched for the mystical and maybe non-existent sundrop, and you found it, so I'm sure a prince will be no trouble. And if you need anything, we'll be happy to help," he adds, more earnest this time.

There's a newfound warmth in her eyes, and she inclines her head, acknowledging his words. The situation feels easier, somewhat. They finish replacing the dirt on top of the king's body, and Adira places a little stone to mark the emplacement.

The king is dead, and Cassandra is gone, but Eugene wants to believe that they all can find their own healing in time.

One wrong move reawakens the pain in his arm, and Adira gauges him when he flinches. She tells him that if there are any medical supplies around there, they're probably in the King's personal quarters.

With her instructions, it's not too hard to find them. The bedroom he finds is enormous, which only heightens how empty and dark it feels. Blindly, Eugene makes his way to a window, and pushes the heavy curtains away, letting the moonlight flood the room, and reveal the ambient dust like as many little stars in the night sky.

One side of the bed is unmade. Next to the other, there is an empty crib.

His heart is racing, and he can't explain it. He turns to the bedside table, and does find what appear to be bandages, next to a pile of papers, so close to the bed that it is easy to guess that the king often looked at them.

Eugene approaches. He tells himself, without much conviction, that he should not look. That even in death the king deserves to keep his privacy. Whatever these papers are, they must have meant a lot to him, keeping him company in his darkest hours, and Eugene doesn't belong in this story.

It only takes him a step, and a second, to recognize his old wanted posters.

#tangled #tangled the series #Eugene Fitzherbert #King Edmund #Adira #Rapunzel

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

Text

heiress - 3

pairing: bucky barnes x oc!reader

a/n: this is part three of a four part series based on a song lyrics sent to me by an amazing anon with a reader based on my favourite oc brought to you by me listening to turning page from sleeping at last so i decided to add a quote. hope you enjoy xx

“letters strewn across your bedroom floor. such beautiful words but you can’t remember who they’re for“

“if i had only felt the warmth within your touch. if i had only seen how you smile when you blush or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough i would have known what i was living for all along”

previous chapter

She entered her past as she stepped into the right wing room. She remembered this room, she remembered it way to well from the shelves on the walls and the book cabinets to the burning smell it still somehow held even after all these years. Her eyes gazed from side to side until they turned purple and ghosts of her memories started to take form. Her eyes widened as she stepped back, trying to run away from the room until two hands grabbed her arms into place forcing her towards the chair where he was, long hair hitting his jaw, strapped like a wild animal. She struggled against the two men, trying to free herself from their hold, yet it didn’t budge, they kept holding her into place as if she was being punished.

- Wipe him again. - one of the men in a lab coat said in a thick Russian accent as the chair lowered down towards an electric head lock. His screams inundated her mind like daggers. Her breath quickened as she started to move her arms to try and get freed for them, to try and help them.

- STOP! PLEASE! - she yelled out, begged as she continued to try and free herself from the two men holding her arms until she fell on her knees. An agony filled scream passed through her lips, overpowering his own screams as a wave of white glow expanded from her to the corners of the room.

- Y/N! - her head was tucked into her legs as someone held her shoulders. Her breathe came out into fast, short paced puffs as he lifted her head to see Bucky standing in front of her holding her arms. What scared her wasn’t him but what surrounded her as she looked around to see everything that laid across the room was gone, the walls itself interrupting from being walls into being made of white glow, her eyes completely white.

- Get away from me. - she pushed away from Bucky, unsure of what she had done, unsure of what she had seen. - I don’t wanna hurt you, I don’t wanna hurt you again.

- Look at me. - he ignored her pushing him away, walking up to her again and lowering himself down to her level. His blue eyes met her completely white ones as he wondered what to do. He didn’t know what to do. - Breathe, okay?

- Okay. - she felt the air enter and exit her lungs slowly as she stared into his blue eyes, so calm.

- GET AWAY FROM HER! - a red glow pushed him away from Y/N to reveal Wanda and Sam who had come to her rescue the moment they heard her scream. She rushed from the door to her friend, holding her hands in hers while Sam went to check on Bucky. - What’s wrong? What did he do? I can’t read his mind.

- He didn’t do anything. I ... I lost control. - Y/N looked down at her hands and at the room which was slowly returning to its normality, with the objects slowly returning. - I don’t know what happened. I walked in and ... it just exploded.

- Guys, we found it. - Monica spoke over the intercom. Y/N’s eyes lingered over to where Wanda had effortlessly thrown Bucky too, an apologetic look, yet she couldn’t understand his look. It was curious almost too curious as if he was looking for clues in her face. Wanda protectively draped her arm over her back, pushing her away from the room which was still haunted by a white-like glow.

She knew that memory, the one she had been stuck in. It was a much too familiar memory of several times she had been punished by watching them ... by watching them hurt him. Madame B was many things but she was a smart woman, a smart woman who carefully plucked out every fear her girls had and used them against them if any stepped the line. Bucky had been one fear too easy to spot, having seen Y/N step up to a guard who had harmed him even after the much taller man had thrown her to a ground. It was a haunted memory for her. - they would always hold her and make her watch as they hurt him. She still remembered his screaming, blood curdling, pain filled screams. Seeing it again, being in that room and have him come to her was just too much.

Yelena and the rest of the team had been left in the dark about everything that had happened. It was best that way; she did not need more people worrying about things she should’ve already figured out. However, Agatha was right and that she knew. Whatever the soul stone had given her was easily uncontrollable if she was in a messy state. If someone had answers it had to be Agatha yet she had learned that dealing with her was a monkey’s paw.

Bucky on the other hand couldn’t stop looking at her. The more he did, the less foggy the memories became from the very time he had seen her to the last time he did. All he could fixate however was on a broken promise he had made her the last time he had seen her. I will find you, I promise. Such pretty words, such a beautiful promise, almost worthy of being in a poem but the truth is, he hadn’t been looking for her. He had memories of her in patches, memories of what he had felt for her and now she was there. He wondered if she remembered him, if she knew who he was. If she remembered ... maybe she didn’t. After all HYDRA and the Red Room had a particular talent at destroying memories with a swift ability. He watched as she listened to Monica explain what they had found and what not, her hair escaping the grip of her ponytail held up by a red piece of fabric tied in a small bow.

- Promise me you’ll remember I love you. - his own ghost voice melodised into his hearing along with the sound of rain against window panes. It wasn’t raining and he wasn’t speaking. - Because they’ll make me forget and you have to remember. You have to remember so you can remind me.

- You won’t forget it. - he could hear her voice as he looked at her but Y/N wasn’t even looking at him. He wondered when she had told him that, he wondered if he had reassured her, he wondered if she remembered when he had told him that. There was so much he still didn’t know but it came in waves, it came in waves explaining what it was. Wanda, however, was staring at him, head slightly cocked to the side in a menacing manner. He looked at the Sokovian woman, trying to read her but he couldn’t. Her mood was a simple as someone keeping her eye on him.

The small plane landed just outside the hex; Yelena jumping from the harbour onto the wilderness the first, followed by Alexei and Monica who were excited enough to study the new notebook but Y/N lingered behind. Flashes of what had just happened rushing through her mind as she stared at the blank wall of the small plane and then back to her hands which were trembling.

- Matter manipulation is messy, isn’t it, dear? - a voice shook her from her own mind. Looking around there was no one but her. She put her hand over her holster, ready to shoot at nowhere.

- What are you doing? - she turned around to see Wanda approaching the jet, having broken apart from the group to check on Y/N. - We need to talk. It’s about Bucky.

- What about Bucky? - she climbed out of the jet to met Wanda.

- I can’t read him anymore. - she sighed. - Did you maybe by accident expanded your “shield” to him too?

- This is not Twilight, Wanda. I cannot expand whatever it is I have.

- Well, I don’t trust him. - she shrugged. - What happened in the Red Room?

- Oh, it was nothing. - she lied, it was something but she did not want to worry Wanda. She didn’t want to worry anyone, she just wanted to get into the hex and go to sleep and that’s just what she did.

She forwent the meeting, last thing she needed was to hear about the Winter Soldier. If there was someone who knew more about the Winter Soldier than the person himself was her and that knowledge was tainted with memories that she wished to relieve yet forget. Laying against her bed she starred at the white ceiling of her bedroom, raising her fingers to play around with the white mist that surrounded them at her will. Element manipulation, that’s what she did. That’s what her file said, that’s what SWORD told her yet element manipulation wouldn’t have made a full room’s objects disappear. Whatever it was, whatever HYDRA and her father had put in her she didn’t know. She always seemed to be the last to know of things that concerned her. Bringing her hand down, she rolled in bed to lay on her side, watching her door with sleepy eyes, hoping she could go to sleep. Of course the universe had different plans as once she felt herself waver between to conscious and unconscious world, she heard a knock against her door. Groaning, she got up from the warmth of her bed and padded towards the door, opening it to slightly to see Bucky standing there.

- Sergeant Barnes, everything okay? - she leaned against the side of her door, staring him up and down.

- Yes, I just wanted to give back the letters Monica Rambeau gave to me. I assume you and your team will be able to decode them better than me ... I guess. - he handed her the stack of letters worn out by time and his own hands. Her eyes moved up from the letters to his eyes, looking for any type of game he could be playing with her. - I guess with you being Pierce’s daughter and all ... maybe he commented with you.

- Ah ... - she forced a smile upon her lips as she took the letters. - You know, I haven’t spoken with my father since I was 10.

- I didn’t me ...

- He didn’t really try to reach out to me either. - she interrupted him. - The only person he has reached out while in prison has been Fury. I don’t even think he would know what I look like.

- I didn’t mean to offend you.

- You didn’t. - she sighed, hand pushing her own hair back. - I wish I could apologise better for what he did to you but I really wouldn’t know how I’d do it.

- I wouldn’t want you to apologise.

- You don’t even know how many apologies I actually owe you. - she looked down to her feet before looking at him. - ... because of my father, I mean.

- Well... if anything there helps. - he put his hands on his pockets. - Or if you know who they’re for ... let me know.

She stood against her door as he left right after that sentence, watching him disappear in the long hallway probably to return to his bedroom. It didn’t really matter, really, she told herself. Yet part of her knew Bucky was much more observant than she could ever be so if there was nothing she could find in those letters. Nevertheless, the most curious side of her nature only wanted to know what is, so she did. She sat down in her bed and grabbed the first letter, pushing it from the envelope onto the comforter. She recognised his handwriting, a bit more messy, probably rushed in ran out ink. He probably had stole one of the sign in sheets old pens which barely worked.

Y/N faltered, refusing to focus on his writing, on his words to her. She knew they were dated after she had ran away from the Red Room and she didn’t want to read his words to her after she had abandoned him. It was too much yet the more her eyes read the date, the more courage she got. Might as well get her heart broken and move on with her life.

Dear Daisy,

today I remembered you and it is probably silly to be writing it down mostly because I don’t expect you to ever read it but if I write it down at least I can remember you again if they make me forget. I remembered the first time I ever saw you yet mentioning it now feels weird as I don’t even know if you knew I had seen you. You had a black bodysuit I am almost certain and black ballerina shoes dancing up to some monotonous music with your hair pushed back with some old red fabric in a small bow. It just came to me staring at that piano myself, maybe as long as that piano exists I won’t forget you yet I don’t know if it will hurt less to remember you or to forget you. All I know is, the moment they send me out I will find you. I promise I will find you.

Well, the two of them were good at broken promises, she thought to herself. Maybe he had reminded himself to find her and chose not to after assessing her actions, maybe he didn’t even remember she existed or what her voice was. She hoped the later was true. She wouldn’t know what to say, what to do if he remembered her. Years ago she used to picture it in her naive mind; running to him, hugging and kissing like in a picture perfect rom com. Now she just wouldn’t know what to say other than beg on her knees for his forgiveness. Not that she deserved it. At least she had that in common with her father, both owed James Barnes an apology which could never be accepted.

Y/N shoved whatever was left of those letters under her bed, hoping to bury them in the same place she buried all her worries. What use was going back to the past? It hadn’t been kind to her then, it wouldn’t be kind now so there was really no use in dwelling in what could’ve been. In what she could’ve been. Childish whims. She let her thoughts simmer, lull her into sleep until she was back into that place, that room which had made her into what she was now. She looked down, dressed in the issued black shirt and leggings, small gun in hand. She looked to the side, Madam B. standing near her in her impecable blue suit with a wood board under her arm.

- It’s just this one and you are gonna win. - she gave her a smile but it wasn’t warm, it was cold, too cold. - Just shot the target, darling.

- What if I fail? - she looked at the person tied to the chair, bag over the head.

- You can’t fail. - the assistant pulled the bag from over the target to reveal Bucky. She took a step behind, faltering as her grip loosened over the gun she was holding. - Shoot him.

- I can’t.

- Shoot him.

- I can’t ... I won’t.

- Fine, then I’ll do it. - she grabbed the gun from her and rose it up to Bucky’s head. She tried to run, to try and put herself in front of her but she was stuck, she was stuck ... and then bang.

She rose from her bed in terror, sweating, breathes coming in and out as fast as they could as she looked around to see the walls of her bedroom. She was safe, she was safe, she was not there. He was safe. Looking down at her hands, the shivering had become and this time it bothered her. She looked weak, frail ... just like her father had described her before, like SWORD and HYDRA described her. Y/N jumped off her bed, running away from her bed to try and find the bathroom or the kitchen ... somewhere she could wash her shivering hands, somewhere she could drown her face in cold water just somewhere. She rushed through the kitchen doors and to the sink, turning on the water before putting her hands under the running water.

- Y/N? Are you okay? - she had rushed so fast into the kitchen she hadn’t even noticed someone else was already there. She turned her head from the sink to look at Bucky but what she saw made her put her hand in front her mouth. He was there, long hair ... with a wound shot on his forehead. She turned her head back to sink, watching her reflection in the sink, her eyes glowing white. - Y/N?

She looked over her should back to him, that look ... what he looked like was gone. He had short hair, healthy skin, no wounds but she had seen it, she had seen it. Bucky noticed the discomfort in her face, taking a step back once he noticed his arm was on full display along with its scars. Sometimes he forgot about how he looked, about how he could freak people out.

- Sergeant Barnes, I’m so sorry ... I didn’t mean to scare you.

- Are you okay? - he wanted to reach out to her, be comforting but he barely looked like a comforting man. - You look shaken up.

- Yeah, I just ... bad dream really. Quite childish.

- It’s not childish. I get them all my time, my therapist say it’s normal.

- I have no reason to have them. - she leaned against the counter. - Why are you here? Midnight snack?

- Just had to think about some stuff and Sam snores. - he joked around, smiling once he saw her lip curl slightly upwards. - I have a question for you. You read those letters, right?

- One of them. Why?

- Do you think she might have loved me?

- Pardon?

- I will reword it. Did you love me?

taglist: @lookiamtrying

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rainydayhogwartsimagines · 5 years ago

Note

Hey there! Could I please get a fred Weasley x reader where the reader is a Slytherin, but befriends everyone all the same, maybe with the trope of her being best friends w the twins and everyone trying to set her and Fred up bc there's so much tension? But they're terribly oblivious? I absolutely love this trope lmaoo. Thank you and have a wonderful day!✨❤️

This is cute-- How in the world do you guys come up with this adorable stuff omfg.

Warnings: Abuse, swearing, panic attacks, slight NSFW conversations, set in a non voldy world.

You were a strange one. A Slytherin with a Hufflepuff personality. Honestly anyone that knew you questioned if for once the sorting hat was wrong for the first time. You had friends EVERYWHERE. Fred and George had heard of you, people saying even Filch could find you enjoyable to be around. Once they heard that, oh boy, they had to meet you. Fred and George finally did by the lake one day. Fred was talking to George, noticing a few cracks from limbs in the tree they were standing under here and there. Finally they had an answer as to what was making it do that when they heard “OH SHIT” followed by “INCOMING!” followed by you falling right into Fred’s arms. “My bad, I was trying to get a bird back in its nest.” You apologized, hopping down the the ground. Fred blinked a couple of times, looking at the tree and then you. “Uh... twig.” George said, pointing to his head to indicate you had a twig in your hair. “Hmm? Oh! thank you!” You realized. “Did... You just fall out of a tree?” Fred asked. “You’d be surprised on how much that happens. Oh are you those twins I’ve been hearing about?” You asked. “Probably. I’m Fred--” “That’s George, yep I know.” You nodded. “...Who are you?” George asked. “Oh-- I’m Y/n!” You said. “Ohhhhh. See this is beginning to make sense now.” George nodded. Fred was just... Staring at you. It wasn’t a perplexed face of “What the fuck just happened”. It was more: “This girl is.. Pretty?”

The twins started having more interactions with you. But there was the day you three became friends that neither of the boys will forget. Fred and George were sitting in the library. Reading? No. Napping? Yes. Well, until you slid into a seat. “Y/n?” Fred yawned. “Act. natural.” You said with this wild eyed look making George raise a brow. Then Draco ran in... With green hair. Fred was now awake and you were hiding your face in a book. “Have you seen Y/n!?” Draco growled. “No... But I see you decided to wear your Slytherin pride today.” George snorted. “You.” Draco growled. Then he noticed you laughing. He pulled down the book. “YOU!” He shouted. “Shit!” You gasped before Fred slid a chair in front of Draco, George bolting with you. You all hid in the one place Draco would never be caught dead in. The Gryffindor common room. You collapsed out of breath on the couch laughing with the boys. “What in the world made you do that?” George wheezed. “He decided to be a dick to my friend this morning. I got revenge. Tomorrow I’m thinking blue. He’s been giving Ravenclaw trouble lately.” You laughed making Fred snort. “Your idea is amazing, might I suggest we rig an exploding ink pen?” George said. “With silver ink, because red just seems to clash with that boy’s eyes.” You said making the boys laugh harder. “Oh I think we’re going to enjoy having you around, won’t we Freddie boy?” George asked. “Indeed Georgie. Indeed.” Fred chuckled.

So the mischievous three were introduced to the world. You had this policy though: Only prank the assholes. So that automatically meant a lot of kids from Slytherin. With each prank you got closer to the boys. Specifically Fred. Something about him just drew you in, like a moth to a flame. George wasn’t stupid either, he could see the looks you two would give each other. When you all entered your fourth year, you had started helping out with their little underground business. You spent the first two weeks of summer that year at home but actually ended up staying with the Weasleys’. You seemed... A little off though. Fred and George both noticed you begin to space out at times, giving off almost this sad look. Whenever they’d talk to you though, you looked at them like you normally would. Something was wrong. They could feel it. It wasn’t until they met your father at the station they realized what was going on. He seemed to snap at you a lot, making you go completely silent. To anyone that didn’t know you this was a normal response. To the boys though, you always had something to say. If you were quiet, this was because you were afraid. Not disciplined. You sat on the train in complete silence. Neither of the boys were sure if they should ask you about your dad. You focused on the rain drops on the window. “I’ve always liked the rain. What about you guys?” You finally asked. “Makes me tired as shit.” George said making you crack a smile. “Heard one of Harry’s uncles is teaching this year.” Fred said. “I think I remembered him mentioning that. The Remus guy?” You asked. “He’s standing in while Quirrell is away.” George nodded. “As long as it isn’t like last year’s substitute.” You groaned. “Fucking Gilderoy.” All of you said in unison making each other laugh. “I swear a simple breeze makes Quirrell catch something.” George sighed. “He does end up getting sick a lot. Remember when he got chicken pox?” You asked. “You would’ve thought the bastard was dying.” Fred nodded. ”He has the immune system of an infant, I swear.” you laughed.

You all sat around in the Great Hall, you catching a glimpse of who the new substitute professor was. He had a scar on his face and it reminded you of something. You just couldn’t figure out what. Eventually though, you came to like the way Remus taught. He had a sense of humor. Not that Quirrell didn’t it was just very awkward when he did finally crack a damn joke. Remus rose a brow when he saw your first and last name on the roll call. “Miss Y/n, is your mother perhaps Persephone L/n?” Remus asked. Fred rose a brow. “She was sir.” you said, making George look up. “Was?” Remus asked. “She passed on when I was eight sir. Why, did you know her?” you asked, earning a couple of students to glance at your response. “I did. Very kind woman. Who did she marry?” Remus asked. “Cassian Lestrange sir.” You responded, making everyone now halt. “...I see.” Remus nodded. “Something wrong?” You asked. “No offense.. I truly mean none. But I genuinely cannot see Cassian as a father.” Remus admitted. You nodded looking down. “He’s... An interesting man.” You muttered, your look distant and pained. Remus noticed, but changed the subject. Fred looked back at his desk. He had no idea about any of this, much less a distant relation to Draco. Judging by your reaction to the questions though, Fred decided it was best to leave it be. You enjoyed Remus’ class, him noticing a few similarities to your mother as you interacted with other students. You always had a smile on your face when you spoke to others. But the one thing he always noticed was the looks that you and Fred would share. George usually paired up with a girl but Fred ALWAYS paired up with you. You two worked well together. It almost reminded him of two other people he knew... Today though, wasn’t the best of days. It was time to practice Boggarts. You already knew what yours was, but you weren’t ready to exactly displayed to the class. You however walked forward and did it anyways, holding your breath as the Boggart began to shift. Finally it did.

Into your father. You opened your mouth to say a spell but nothing came out, your hands shaking as it inched forward. Fred looked at you and then the boggart, quickly pulling you back with one arm and shouting “riddikulus”. You couldn’t still your breathing and it only seemed to be getting worse. “Y/n? Look at me.” Fred said, ignoring the students watching you. Remus locked the closet and you hyperventilated. “Class dismissed.” Remus said, shuffling the other students out. “I-I can’t-- b-breathe.” you whimpered. George ran over and you gripped your head. “Y/n. I’m right here Love, follow my breathing.” Fred said softly. You followed his movements. “What’s your favorite book?” George asked making Remus raise a brow. “S-sense and Sensibility.” You answered, still regulating your breathing. “Personally I’m more of a short story man, what about you Freddie?” George asked. “Not big on reading. More of a napping fellow.” Fred answered. You let out a small laugh and straightened your posture. “What’s your favorite class?” Fred asked. “P-probably this one.. with the exception of t-today.” you answered. Remus reached into his drawer and handed you chocolate and a bottled water. “Thank you professor.” You muttered. You sat down and sighed. “Y/n... I hate to ask this, truly I do. But is there anything going on at home?” Remus asked. You didn’t say anything. “I... Don’t want to answer that question.” You finally said. Fred frowned and George exchanged a look. “Boys, do you mind leaving us for a few moments?” Remus asked. Fred kneeled to you, looking at your face. “I’ll be outside if you need me. Okay?” He asked. You nodded and he got up, leaving with George.

The door closed and Fred let out a long sigh. “I am going to kill her father, want to help?” Fred said. “Hand me a shovel.” George said simply. “Why didn’t she say anything?” Fred asked. “She doesn’t even want to talk to Lupin Fred. You saw her face, she most likely didn’t want to remember.” George said. Fred looked at the door and sighed. “We can’t let her go home George. Not this summer.” Fred said. “I’m with you.” George agreed. The two boys became a bit more protective over you. But they found it so strange that you still kept the happy go lucky personality despite going through all of this. Then Fred found you one night in the astronomy tower with a blanket. You were propped up against one of the stone arch’s and looking at the night sky. “Y/n?” Fred asked. You looked over at him. “Hey Fred.” You said with that smile. He sat across from you. “What brings you up here?” Fred asked. “Insomnia. And cookies.” You said. “Cookies?” Fred asked. You scooched closer to him, pushing a tin of cookies to him. He took one and you sighed looking at the stars. “Can I ask you something?” He said. “Sure.” You nodded. “What keeps that smile on your face all the time?” He asked. You let out a long breath, thinking over a detailed answer. “Lots of reasons. I have two kickass best friends that will fight for me no matter what, I have really cool teachers, I have friends who are like family.” you answered. “But... I keep that smile because some times someone just needs to see the good in the world. I won’t lie to you. My life is much darker than I think you accounted for. But if my smile provides someone else some light then damn it I’ll keep this up.” You said. Fred looked at you surprised. “Y/n...” He muttered. You looked at Fred and he said nothing, pulling you into his arms. You slowly hugged him back and he sighed. “I swear if anyone tries anything with you again, I will personally send them to their grave.” Fred said making you laugh. “I’m serious!” Fred said, not being able to keep a straight face seeing your smile. “Shut up and take a cookie.” You laughed.

You two were found passed out the next morning my Luna. You were in Fred’s arms and he was holding you close. You two never brought it up, despite the fact that both of you were blushing like crazy when you woke up. It was now CRYSTAL fucking clear how Fred felt about you to George after witnessing a snowball fight between you two that resulted in Fred tickling your sides and making you laugh during a Hogsmeade trip. You smiled in his arms, faces inches apart. If Fred and George’s jackass brother hadn’t gotten into a fight with Draco, George was 95% sure you two would’ve kissed.

You seemed distracted by something else though, and that was your professor. The scar on his face- why did it look familiar? And why was Remus going to Snape for a secret potion? You noticed that he was pretty secretive about his personal life and Harry never answered the question of where the mark came from. You took what you like to call “The Granger Approach.” Which was basically reading until you had a reliable answer. Fred sat with you the entire time, napping or talking to George while you read. Both boys were passed out by the time you found an answer. “Oh... Shit.” you realized, making Fred open an eye. “Find what you’re looking for?” George yawned. “...Yeah and I think Remus is going to be absent tomorrow.” You said looking at the full moon through the large glass windows. “Why’s that?” Fred asked. “He’s a werewolf.” You said in a whisper. Both boys looked at you with a “You can’t be serious” expression. “What makes you say that?” Fred asked. “Ron said something. Harry’s class saw his boggart. It was the moon.” You said. George blinked. “If our little brother is your proof that’s not exactly reliable.” George said. “How do you explain the potions he gets from Snape, or the scar on his face, or the fact that he was leaving campus this afternoon?” You asked. “He was?” Fred asked. “He was sneaking around but I noticed him.” You shrugged. “Alright. Say he doesn’t show up tomorrow. Who fills in for a substitute?” George asked. “Probably Snape.” you grumbled. “You’re a Slytherin and you don’t like Snape? My God you really are a strange one.” Fred teased making you smile. George rolled his eyes. “Do we ask him about this?” George asked. “No. We leave this alone unless Remus needs help.” you said. “How in the hell were you not sorted into Hufflepuff? Like honestly?” Fred asked. “I have no idea. Luna says its never wrong though.” You shrugged.

Sure enough, Remus didn’t show up and Snape took over class that day. Fred, George and you all exchanged knowing glances but overall didn’t say anything. The school year finally came to a close and you were honestly sad to see Remus go. The crazy thing was: That day when you explained your boggart to Remus, he told you that his door was open to you if you needed to leave home. You declined but Fred was hellbent on you staying with them for the summer. He hated the idea of you being potentially in harm’s way. This offer you accepted. You showed up, bags in hand with that same beautiful smile. Molly was of course excited to see you and you were happy to be there. The Burrow honestly felt like home. You and Fred had so many moments though that made the whole family go “Dude. Kiss already. PLEASE.” Specifically when you saw a spider and screamed, practically climbing up Fred while he killed the damn thing. “You managed to go into the forbidden forest alone and came back unscathed but a small spider scares you?” Fred asked, your legs having a death grip around his torso. “THEY ARE FUCKING CREEPY FRED!” You whined. “It’s smaller than you!” He laughed, holding you up. “SO IS A GRENADE!” you whined. You hopped down and eyed the dead spider. “Afraid it’ll crawl--” “FRED IT HAD BABIES!” You screamed, climbing right back up him, more directed to his face. “Oh for Christ’s sake--” He said, enchanting a broom to sweep them out. “You’re a Slytherin. All of you have creepy creatures for pets and you are terrified of..” “Fred faced you as you were linked to his side, inches away from him. You looked in his eyes, almost as if you were looking for something, swallowing hard. “What the hell happened here?” Ron asked, seeing the two of you. “I saw a spider.” “OH GOD WHERE--”

George was tired of this tension. Yes, it was cute to see his brother head over heels. But my GOD WERE YOU FUCKING DENSE. BOTH OF YOU. How could you two have so many OBVIOUS moments that would make people who barely knew you go “Oh so they like each other” But you two still be clueless to the other’s intentions. You two also talked endlessly to George and Ginny. Both of them would sit there listening wanting to say something, but kept their oaths of silence. This year things were bound to change though. You see: this year was a Triwizard tournament. Other schools were coming to this shindig. And a boy from Durmstrang seemed awfully fixated on you. You were friendly, inviting him to sit and Fred would just be internally screaming the whole time watching you. The Durmstrang boy would do things that literally made Fred’s eye fucking twitch: playing with your hair, complimenting your smile, constantly looking at you. You were oblivious to this being flirty though, unaware of the boy’s crush on you. Finally one day Fred had to talk to you about it. He could not stand watching this little fucker with you. “You should talk to her Fred. Tell her how you feel.” George said. “And if she doesn’t feel the same way?” Fred asked. George practically slammed his head down onto the table in frustration, releasing a long groan. “JUST. ASK. HER.” George whined, making Fred jump. “Good God man, what’s gotten into you!?” Fred asked. “NOTHING FRED. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.” George groaned, getting up and making Ginny nearly die of silent laughter.

You were in the library, grabbing a few books for a herbology project when Fred popped up, scaring the shit out of you. “Christ! Say something when you’re behind me!” You breathed. “Sorry! Sorry.” Fred apologized. “What do you need?” You asked curiously. “What’s going on with you and that Durmstrang kid?” Fred asked. “What do you mean?” you asked, moving down the aisle, looking for a specific book. “Do you like him?” Fred asked. “He’s cool.” You shrugged. “Not like that Y/n.” Fred huffed. “Like what?” You asked. “Romantically. Do you like him romantically?” Fred asked. “Wha-- no!” You gagged. Fred felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Why did you want to know?” You asked. “It’s just... He acts like he likes you. That’s all.” Fred said. You stopped and turned around, a questioning squint on your face. “Would it have bothered you if I did?” You asked. “Yes.” Fred answered, no hesitation in his words. “Why?” you asked. Fuck. Fred did not think this through. “It just would’ve.” Fred said. “Again, why would this have bothered you?” You asked. “No particular reason!” He lied. “Answer the god damn question before I ask out Luka out of spite!” You snapped. “You do that and I ask Angela out!” He said back. You glared. “Oh that bothers you!?” Fred noticed the expression. “Yes it bothers me!” You said. “Why!?” Fred asked. “I asked you first, you dolt!” You said. Both of you were quickly becoming aggravated, glaring at each other. Fred couldn’t take it anymore and slammed his lips onto yours, resulting in you dropping the book in your hands and cupping his cheeks. You two eventually pulled away for this stupid thing called air and you let out a small laugh. “Well shit Fred, if you would’ve just started with that I wouldn’t have had to ask.” You laughed. He smiled, his hands around your waist. “You’re lucky we’re in public or else I would’ve done a lot more than that Princess.” Fred said in your ear. You looked at him with a smirk “If I knew making you jealous would make you act like this, my God I would’ve made friends with this kid ages ago.” You laughed. “Oh bite your tongue.” He chuckled. “Hmm, I’m thinking I leave that to you.” you teased. He shook his head, kissing you again.

George caught you two and he actually screamed “HALLEFUCKINGLUJAH” at the top of his lungs, making both of you jump. You three ended up in detention (you and Fred were in trouble for the book mess), George telling you two how the past few months were absolute hell. “I have been watching you two jackasses, trying to get you to DATE since LAST JANUARY. IT’S OCTOBER.” George complained. “It wasn’t that bad!” You laughed. “Not that bad-- NOT THAT BAD!? FRED TALKS MY GOD DAMN EAR OFF ABOUT YOU AT NIGHT-- I DON’T SLEEP” George whined. “Has he now?” You asked, smirking at Fred who was smiling. “You’re always on the bastard’s mind! And I have to listen to Ginny complain to me with the same issue-- ‘Y/n was talking about Fred again to Hermione. Something about if given the chance she’d definitely shag him’.” George quoted making you choke on air and cough as Fred looked at you with an amused smirk. “Would you now?” Fred asked. You rolled your eyes “What was it you said to me a few hours ago-- ‘You’re lucky we’re in public or else--’” “I remember what I said Darling, I just wanted to know where your mind was.” Fred teased. “Oh you know exactly what I’m thinking you little shit.” You griped making him snort. “Oh God Mcgonagall better come back soon, I’m locked in a room with two randy jackasses.” George prayed aloud. “Relax we’re not going to shag.” Fred said. “Thank god.” George sighed. “That’s not until three.” Fred yawned making you snort and George slammed his head on his desk. “DRINK HOLY WATER YOU UNGODLY SINNERS”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley

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nanamisflowerfield · 4 years ago

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HELLO!I hope you are healthy! Make sure to eat veggies and drink a lot of water! I dunno if I'm doing it right but How about Finnian or Sebastian with a future!Phantomhive reader? Like reader is Ciel's decendant( look like the female version of him) and vert important to the Quenn and England( *cough and almost every other country *cough) They were hunting some witch maybe but teleported back to past. With her cousin who is Elizabeth's male version, constantly asks her to marry her and etc. They landed right inside of the manor and a fight begins( Maybe reader is kinda half demon half human or half angel half human) She uses every kind of weapons but she is especially good at swords. Ciel doesn't believe of course so she basically tells the whole family history and shows him the ring.Oh and also maybe the same things that happened to him also happened to her as well. When she sees Sebastian she is like " Dude you didn't even bother changing yourself?" Before she kills the witch, the witches puts a spell on her, saying that as long as she doesn't fix her ancestor's mistakes, she cannot go back and won't have a future.So reader is stuck in past eith her annoying cousin I would like to see their times together, you know liking then blushing, trying to confess, their first kiss and just some fluff!

Thank you in advance sweetie and take care!

Omg, thanks for the request!!❤️ it sounded very interesting and I just had to write it as fast as possible! (*^ω^*) I had so much fun!~ Thanks again! I coudln’t decide who I should choose... It was pretty hard to decide...

So this is a Finnian x Reader HC... Unfortunately I had work and a every important exam and couldn‘t write it fast, sorry about it! And so sorry for waiting so long for it!!

And thanks!~ I hope that you (and everybody else of course) is taking care of themselves, wears their masks, be healthy and happy!~ ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Gender: I wanted to write it gender-neutral but it I wrote sometimes she/her in it.... Sorry!

words: 2058

warnings: fluffyyyy! And death

Requests: Open

If somebody ever wants to read a Sebastian Michaelis x Reader with this plot, just ask me! I would write it, because I loved the plot-idea! It was very great! Thanks again, hun!

And some last words: Stay healthy, drink enough water, wear your masks and yes, it is a hard time for everybody but I hope that you all will be happy!~

🗡 “Come on! Go and get that, stupid witch!” You yelled over to your group of colleagues and friends. You all runed as fast as possible to hunt down a strong witch, who wanted to kill the Queen of England and as a good-hearted and well paid Phantomhive, you tried to help her. Unfortunately for you, the emphasis was on the word tried, because the witch was too fast.

🗡 “Sooo…. When is going to be our wedding?” You heard a too familiar voice asking you by your side. “This is no the time to joke around, Elijah! We need to hurry!”

🗡 Thanks to the gods above, you surrendered the witch. But she started to laugh like a frickin’ maniac! “Ohh, you know why I did so many things? Hahaha… I did it for a reason! So many people did so many mistakes and nobody ever tried to help them out or to fix their big problems … So… Why don’t you be a dear and fix the mistakes your beloved ancestors did!”

🗡 Suddenly a light dazzled you and when you opened your (e/c) eyes. No! The witch can’t escape her again! So you did the only intelligent thing and killed her.

🗡 But that damn light came again and out of the sudden your group was gone…

🗡 “Wow… That was strange.” But not Elijah. Your cousin. He stood up and walked to your direction, looking over your body to see, if you have any bruises or wounds. At least one of your group members were there.

🗡 “Yes, indeed. But not as weird as this place here.” You said and looked around you. The surroundings looked like London, the city you used to live in, but everything was so… old? What’s up with the furniture and this crappy paintings? You were to 100% sure that you were in your home. The Phantomhive Manor. But everything was so… weird!!

🗡 Before you could have asked your cousin about his little wound the witch inflicted him with, knives were thrown into your direction!

🗡 Fortunately, you were a skilled fighter. You could practically use every weapon if you wanted to! So you used your great skills and blocked the attacks of some strangers.

🗡 Some of them shot at you, some threw knives but then… You saw something weird. A tree!?

🗡 Elijah pushed you away in time, but only got stretched but a branch of it.

🗡 How in the world, could somebody throw trees around!? That was not possible for any human being!

🗡 Now, when you two were on the ground, you heard footsteps.

🗡 “Who are you?” - “Uhh… If I’m not wrong, people usually introduced themselves before they asked others.” – “You are inside my home. I’m pretty sure, that you know who I am, assassin.”

🗡 Assassin? That was new…

🗡 “What the hell? Hey, kiddo. This place belongs to (y/n)! Afterall this is her home for she is a Phantomhive!”

🗡 “Phantomhive?” The young blue-haired boy raised his eyebrow and did not believed any word Elijah had said.

🗡 So, it was your turn to explain your situation. Who you are, why you are here and so on and on. But the young boy still didn’t believe a word. His household even looked at you in confusion. Until you showed them your ring. The ring of the Phantomhives.

🗡 His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw it and immediately glanced to his finger. It was the same one! How could it be possible? A young woman with blueish hair, the same ring as his and not to forget a similar past… Is she mayhaps from another world? But no. You retold him everything again.

🗡 When your eyes glanced around, you saw very familiar red eyes. The red eyes of a demon. Sebastian Michaelis. “Ohhh my gosh. Are you kidding me, Sebastian!? Did you really… REALLY attacked ME!? What the hell! I thought that you wouldn’t do such a thing except if we had our training sessions, but this is just…. Oh god, I am really mad right now. And what the hell is wrong with your clothes?” Sigh. “Dude… you didn’t even bother changing yourself? Unbelievable.”

🗡 Everybody was just very confused…. Even Elijah.

🗡 And who knows. Maybe you were unfortunate or maybe not, but you were stuck in the past. At first you though it was your bad luck, but now… Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Afterall… he was here. With you.

💐 At the beginning you started to count the days since you were stuck in the past or… present day(?)

💐 And Elijah was there nonstop. He would never leave your side, even when you wanted to sleep in one of the guest rooms, you’ve got from your ancestor Ciel Phantomhive. Your cousin just followed you like a lost little puppy, but it was pretty normal.

💐 Everybody thought at first, that he was your fiancée, until you’ve told them that you would never marry him. He was more like a brother figure to you than husband material… (I feel sorry for Elijah D: )

💐 You loved to look around and observe watch everybody.

💐 It was kinda funny how Mey-Rin always slipped and tripped around or how the kitchen nearly exploded whenever Baldroy tried to cook for the head of the household. It never got boring.

💐 But you loved liked to watch one person particular.

💐 “Good day, Finnian.” You smiled at the gardener, who always seems to be happy, whenever he worked with the flowers.

💐 How could somebody so sweet be so strong? I mean… He threw a tree at you!!

💐 “Ohhh… Lady (y/n). H-Hello!” And like always the young blond boy blushed when he saw you. Some might say that he got a small little crush on you, which was so cute.

💐 He was so different and special.

💐 “Oh, stop it with this whole lady-crap, please.” Of course you didn’t wanted to be called as lady by some guy who you were interested in. And that was all. You were just interested in him for his strength and not his cute blushing face… Or how he always seems to bet happy… How he always tries to help you…

💐 Sometimes, you were sitting under a tree, reading a book boringly. When are you going to be in your time and see your friends???

💐 Whenever this happened, Finnian looked worriedly at you. You always looked so sad. So, he went to his friends and asked how he could cheer you up! They of course have told him how he could cheer you up with different ideas!

💐 Mission Number 1 by Baldroy: Show her your strength. Women love strong people!

💐 When you tried to help him with the weed in the garden, you tried to pull some out but it was kind of stuck in there next to the beautiful flowers you loved. The sterling roses. Finnian, the sweet-like angel, walked to your side to help you out. But then… He got so awkward by the closeness of you two, that he accidently pulled the rose bush out of the ground rather than the weed. “OH NO!” – “Oh gosh, Finnian…. Why?” – “I-I… I didn’t… I… NO!” And the blond gardener ran away, leaving a confused but smiling phantomhive alone in the garden.

💐 Mission Number 1: Failed.

💐 Mission Number 2 by Mey-Rin: Bring her something she likes. Like tea! Yes~ She always drinks tea!

💐 Nervously, Finnian walked to you, hearing the voice of Elijah who talked about who knows what until he saw the gardener. “H-Hello… Do you want some tea…? It’s Earl Grey tea… Here…” He said blushing and coming near to the one he fancied so much. But who could have known that there was a small stone in front of the awkward blond. Small enough to be hidden, but large enough to trip over it, which is what the gardener did. He tripped and the tea he prepared for you, spilled over you, making a big mess. Shocked, he ran away after he apologized to you, not hearing a small laugh of yours and the loud yelling of Elijah.

💐 Mission Number 2: Failed.

💐 When Finnian read a romance book to get a few plans, he thought about giving up completely, but he couldn’t do such a thing. The only thing that matters right now is to make you happy… He couldn’t give up! No! So, he did more researches, not realizing that his beloved crush was nearby, smiling at the blonde.

💐 “Okay… What if I-“ – “Finnian!” He looked over his shoulder to see you running to him. “Oh… Is something wrong? You were running… Do you need help?” He asked immediately. “No, silly.” You laughed. “You looked so nervous again and…. You were thinking about something, right? I thought that you might have been upset with something. Maybe the flowers you accidently ruined.” He gulped. Oh no… You remembered it.

“Sooo… Here. It’s for you.” You said and shoved a bouquet of sterling roses and sunflowers into his hands with the brightest smile you could ever give somebody and would make a certain someone very furious and jealous.

💐 That was the day, you both realized that you weren’t just interested in somebody or fancied that one… No. It was a stronger feeling. It was like… love. Yeah, maybe you loved him.

💐 Now, he wanted to confess to you, after that one day, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to do this. Elijah would be mad and you were a phantomhive! That was a big no-no! But you were the only thing that makes him super happy…

💐 You might not have the power of mind-reading, but you sure have a great sense in reading people’s emotions, which is why you were certain, that he had the same feelings you had.

💐 It was time to confess your feelings! But… how?

💐 “Ohh nooo!” You dramatically laid your arm on your head and glanced down. “I am stuck here. I can’t get dooooown! What should I doooo?~ Ohhh, I wish for a strong one to save me!~” – “Here, I am!”

“NO! ELIJAH GO AWAY!! NOT YOU! GOOO!” – “But you need help, (y/n)!” – “Elijah, I don’t need your help!”

And that little argument went back and forth for a while, until he came to you two. “You two are having many arguments…” – “Oh, that is very normal for us. Many say that we are like a married couple, right my beloved?~ Ouch! Why are you throwing your shoes at me!? Stop it, please!”

“But you said, that you needed help!” – “NOT YOURS!! I can come down ALONE! Here!”

And that is what you tried to do. Usually, you were like a cat. Perfect at climbing trees and landing on your feet, but this time, the phantomhive-bad luck hit you hard in your face, which resulted in you making a wrong step and falling down.

💐 And here you were. In the arms of the one you wanted to help you. Finnian. He was fast enough (and strong enough to shove Elijah away) to save you in time. “Ohhh, my hero!~” You laughed and threw your arms around his shoulders, smiling at the still shocked gardener.

“Let me give my sweet knight in the dirty armor a reward!~” That’s what you did. You gave him a surprise kiss-attack on his lips!

💐 Oh gosh…. He looked like a tomato! Totally blushing and asking if it was okay to kiss.

💐 “But of course! I might be stuck here in your time… But maybe it is a good thing I am here… I’ve got to meet you and finally love somebody… It was a long time since I ever trusted somebody… But know I can… I have you. I love you, Finnian.”

💐 Finni being a blushing mess and nearly yelling his reply of “I LOVE YOU!” too loud.

Bonus:

💐 “…. WHAT!? BUT (Y/N)!! I thought we were going to marry!” – “No! She is mine!” – “Pff…. In your dreams! From now on, you will be my rival!”

“Uh…. I already chose Finnian, Elijah… Gosh, what the hell is wrong with you….”

#kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji imagines #black butler #black butler imagines #black butler x reader #phantomhive!reader #finnian #finnian x reader #finnian imagine #finnian x phantomhive!reader

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alicanta77 · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Royal Blooded

Pairing: princess!y/n x prince!Chenle

Themes: royalty au, fluff, angst

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence

Words: 7.1k

Inspiration: BTS - Blood, Sweat and Tears - orchestral cover

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Finale

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Royalty doesn't equal happily ever after

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You held your head high as you walked towards the throne room. You had your main servant walking behind you and two guards escorting you on either side. Your shoes made small tapping noises on the stone floor with every step you took and your clothes and hair gently flowed in time to the movement. You approached the grand door, nodding at the two knights guarding the entrance, who bowed back before moving their spears and opening the grand door for you.

The throne room appeared before you in all its glory. The metal chandelier hung from the ceiling, dangling above the engraved stone floors that were currently stood on by the entire court. The court and knights of your kingdom were all in neat rows on the left of the building, framed by the sculpted columns that ran up the walls. On the right side was another court entirely, clearly very rich and clearly not close to your kingdom. Their cloaks and shield bared an emblem which you had never seen before.

You had under a second to take in the sight in front of you before you had to move forwards. As you moved forwards you kept your eyes on your father’s, never breaking contact so that you didn't show weakness. You knew what this meeting was about, and you weren't particularly pleased. You had always known that this day would come, you had just hoped that you would have at least a few more years of freedom.

You reached the front of the room and paused in front of your father and mother’s golden thrones. Your servant and guards moved to join the lines of your court whilst you bowed your head in respect and stood, patiently waiting for your father to speak first.

He stood, your mother following, and spoke, addressing you by name but speaking clearly so that everyone who was present could hear his words.

‘Y/n, our only child and sole heir to the throne, the day has finally come where you will take the first monumental step for your kingdom.’

‘Father, I give you my solemn word I will uphold the oath I took when I was crowned heir and do whatever I can for my kingdom and my people.’ You replied, keeping your voice steady and clear so that it could be heard by the whole court.

‘Today will mark the start of our journey into a new age. Today we will create an unbreakable alliance with a kingdom whose wealth and power rivals our own and, this alliance, will start a new time, a time of peace and prosperity for the both of us.’ Your father continued, straightening up in order to face the court. He gestured for a man and woman from the new court to stand with him. The crowns on their heads and extremely elaborate clothing gave away to you that they must be the king and queen.

‘We have with us, the royal family and court from the Zhong kingdom of Shanghai, China. Over the past few months we have been in negotiations, trying to find a common ground between us to use as the foundation for this new peaceful age. Eventually we settled on the most solid of alliances, one that will bind our nations for all generations to come.’

Your father turned around and raised his arms to the members of both courts in the throne room.

‘A marriage!’

The room erupted into cheers as you were led up the few stone stairs and stood in-between and slightly in front of your parents. You turned your head to your left and saw a young boy, around your age, standing in the same position as you.

This must be who you were marrying. He looked out at his people with a calm look on his face, you couldn't tell if it was just a facade or if he really didn't care that he would be marrying you. You honestly couldn't tell which one you wanted it to be.

You turned your head back towards the two courts, missing the way he turned to you in order to look at, and study, your features.

King Zhong then stood forward to continue informing the court of how the marriage would play out.

‘Since the Zhong kingdom has four sons, of which Prince Chenle is the youngest, it has been agreed that he will stay here, protect and, when the time comes, govern this kingdom with the royal family already ruling. Due to the young ages of both our heirs, we have also decided that there is no rush for this wedding to take place. The agreement of it is enough for us to guarantee peace and, when it does happen, it will be a celebration that will echo through both kingdoms.’

He turned to face you before looking back towards his son.

‘Your wedding will create an age of peace that will allow both our kingdoms to live without fear for generations to come. It will all trace back to the two of you.’

He and your father moved together before your mother moved to your other side. You managed to sneak a very quick look to your left and noticed Chenle’s mother doing the same. You realised that you were standing in a line: your mother, you, your father, King Zhong, Prince Chenle, Queen Zhong. You felt your parents both grab your hand and hold them up in the air as the court burst into another round of applause.

It was a symbol of unity.

---

Soon you were back in your chambers, thankfully, alone. If you had to stay and make conversation with your future husband and his family, you were sure that your brain would explode. You knew you were going to have to converse with them at the celebratory feast that the castle was preparing for tonight, but, until then, you were going to savour your rare moments alone. You had even sent away your servant and asked them to ensure that you weren't distracted for the next few hours.

However, that hopeful plan was short lived when your mother drifted into your room, your servant sending you an apologetic look from where they were standing behind her, powerless to protect your privacy.

‘Mother, what a lovely surprise!’ You politely said, standing up from where you were previously lying on your bed.

‘Y/n! You cannot lock yourself away in your bedroom every time you wish to avoid talking to people. I shouldn't have to remind you that you are a royal and that this is not how we conduct ourselves. You should have stayed and made polite conversation with either the King or Queen, or the Prince, Chenle. You will marry him, you know?’ Your mother scolded you gently.

Your parents had always been incredibly gentle and loving with you, only strict when it came to representing the kingdom and upholding the royal conduct. This made you incredibly grateful for them as they always made an effort to understand how you were feeling as a teenager, not just as a royal.

You sighed and looked down at the stone floor.

‘I know Mother, and I apologise for hiding away, I’m just a bit taken aback at this situation. If I may speak honestly, I have always known that I would marry someone for the sake of the kingdom, and that they would likely be someone I didn't know well. So that is not the part that has unsettled me a bit, I just- I thought I would have more time, Mother. I feel as though I am still young, yet I have the responsibility of a marriage, and not just any marriage but such an important one. The fate of our kingdoms is relying on the success of this union and it is difficult to process the magnitude of that importance. It is not an easy burden to carry.’

Your mother approached you, a sympathetic look on her face. She placed a delicate hand on your shoulder and gently guided you so that you were both sat down on your bed.

‘I know that this kind of marriage, an arranged marriage, is scary. And it is not a sign of any type of cowardice to be nervous about it. I was so terrified the first time I met your father, my knees were shaking underneath my dress and I could barely stand up, let alone walk. We got married very young too. As did the Zhongs. All of us have had arranged marriages, to someone we didn't know, while we were still very young, just like you and Chenle. So we do understand what that is like, and that is why we all refused to have the wedding while you are still so young. We wanted our children to get the chance to know each other before getting married. The chance that we never had. I gather that the pressure of this marriage is heavier than anything I will understand, due to what is riding on it, but you must trust yourself to do what is right. You are a smart child, y/n, and I have every faith that you and Chenle will build a beautiful kingdom.’

You turned your head towards her and smiled, as she continued talking, a small twinkle appearing in her eyes.

‘I have spent the last few moments speaking to Chenle, and I think you'll find that he is more than what you are letting yourself believe. Don’t forget that he is in the same position as you, only he has to go through it all in a strange kingdom, surrounded by people he doesn’t know. His family leaves tomorrow morning, and he will be left here, alone. He is probably more nervous than you are.’

Her words silenced you. You hadn't really thought about the fact that Chenle was leaving everything behind to be here. He really was making a much bigger sacrifice than you had given him credit for. Your mother stood to leave, briefly saying one last thing over her shoulder.

‘The Zhongs have gone back to their chambers now. The King and Queen are in the Royal chambers in the West Wing, and Chenle is accompanying the guest chambers there too. The feast will begin tonight in the great hall, I will see you there.’

And with that, she left, the large wooden doors closing quietly behind her. You stood up from your bed and walked towards the closed door. You thought for a second before you opened it and walked out, fully intent on finding Chenle and starting to get to know him.

You could see your mother walking down the corridor in the direction of her room, and you turned away from her and began your own journey to the West Wing of the castle.

---

After a few quiet minutes of walking, you finally reached the West Wing. You intended to head straight up to Chenle’s room but as you reached the doors, you hesitated, your hand poised to knock.

What if he didn't want to see you?

What if you had offended him by not staying to speak to him and his family earlier?

What if he wanted to spend the day with his family before they left?

With these thoughts and others swirling around your head, you couldn't bring yourself to knock. You would be too embarrassed if you walked in on his final night with his family.

You lowered your hand and turned to leave, instead deciding to talk to him at the feast. You had only walked a few steps away from the door when you heard a piano being played.

You didn't know of anyone in the castle who could play the piano that beautifully or had the time to play at their own leisure, so you followed the sound.

You soon found yourself standing in front of the room you knew to be the hall of the west wing. This was often used as the spare great hall, it wasn't quite the size of the one you would be feasting in tonight, but wasn't, by any means, small.

You pushed open the door slightly, wincing to yourself as it creaked obnoxiously loudly. The playing stopped abruptly and, after a second of silence, a voice called out:

‘Hello?’

You didn't recognise the voice so you opened the door further and moved into the room. There you stood, face to face with Chenle, the boy you would marry.

Although you had hoped to find and speak to him, now that you were stood in front of him, your mouth couldn't seem to form any words. Eventually you forced yourself to just say something, rather than stand there awkwardly while he looked at you politely.

‘I’m sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. I didn't even know it was you, I had just wondered who had been playing so beautifully.’ You muttered out, embarrassed at the nervous mess you had become. With all your years of learning how to present yourself in the public eye, it shouldn't be this hard for you to hold a conversation.

Chenle smiled slightly at your compliment.

‘Oh... thank you, your highness. Do you know how to play?’ He asked, looking you directly in the eyes.

‘Ummm, no. I wish I did though.’ You answered, moving slightly closer to the piano he was sitting at.

‘How come you never learnt?’ He asked, turning around in his seat so that he could face you.

You smiled sadly and shrugged slightly. ‘My father thought that learning an instrument would be a waste of my time. He thought my efforts were better focused on other things.’

‘What other kinds of skills?’ Chenle asked, tilting his head slightly, his eyes wide open and fixed on you. The innocent look on his face made a small smile break out across your features.

‘Skills such as languages and public speaking. He wanted to make me the best royal I could be, and I enjoyed those lessons. I love speaking many languages, but I do wish I could play like you could.’ You replied honestly.

Chenle opened his mouth to speak again but the loud creaking of the door opening drew both your eyes to the growing gap in the doorway. Soon your servant’s head popped around, their entire body entering the room once they saw you there.

‘I apologise for interrupting, your highness, but the feast is fast approaching and it is time for you to get ready.’ Your servant said, their eyes flickering between you and Chenle, clearly nervous that they had interrupted something important.

You turned to Chenle and gave an apologetic smile.

‘It seems I must go prepare, but I will see you at the feast?’

Chenle stood up, a gentle smile on his face as he approached you. He took your right hand in his and brought it to his lips.

‘I look forward to it.’ He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand before you turned around and exited the room.

Maybe this marriage wouldn't be so bad.

---

You raised your silver goblet to your lips, a laugh escaping you as you conversed with a knight from Chenle’s kingdom. The feast was in full swing and the great hall was filled with laughing royals and knights alike. The festivities continued all throughout the lower town and outlying villages as well, with processions and food being sent there for their own feasts.

The knights and royals were sat in an open circle around the walls of the great hall. Both your family and the Zhong's were sat at the head of the table, your fathers in the middle, then your mothers then, finally, on the end were you and Chenle. He was close enough that you could exchange the odd smile, but not close enough for you to make any kind of conversation with him.

The servants bustled all around you, filling up glasses and offering pieces of food in between courses. The court jesters often appeared in the middle of the tables and dazzled the crowd with their magic tricks and acrobatics. The final acrobat had just finished their performance with a double flip, making you all gasp in amazement. The entire room burst into applause, laughter and exclamations of praise for the talent showcased.

Your father then stood up, raising his left hand up as a way of asking for silence. He held his goblet of wine in his right and began to speak.

‘As all of you are aware, we are here today to celebrate the arrival of our new friends, King and Queen Zhong and their son Prince Chenle, and the hopeful future that they bring with them. We hope that your stay, however short-’ He gestured to Chenle with his raised glass as he continued to say ‘or long, is as pleasant as it can be. To a new era!’

Everyone in the room, including you grabbed and raised their goblets.

‘To a new era!’ You all exclaimed in unison.

As your father sat down, King Zhong rose from his seat.

‘If I may say something as well?’ He asked your father, who simply nodded in response with a large smile on his face.

‘I would like to thank you for hosting us for our short stay and for offering a new home for our son. We understand that it is against the normal customs for the Prince to move to a new land, but your open mindedness about this situation has made this process a lot easier than we anticipated it would be. I have every faith that Chenle and Y/n will one day rule a beautiful kingdom, and I cannot wait to see that happen. To the future!’

‘To the future!’ You all chanted again, raising your glasses to the sky once more.

King Zhong’s words reminded you slightly of the conversation that you had had with your mother only a few hours ago and you found yourself growing to like the Zhong’s and their people with every passing minute. The knights that surrounded you were filled with interesting and hilarious stories and the other nobles that you had chatted with before sitting down were just as likeable.

You supposed that if Chenle was anything like his people, it would be relatively easy to get along with him.

Time and courses passed and, before you knew it, the servants were clearing away for the final time. Your father placed a hand on your shoulder and sent you a reassuring smile, one which you returned, as the servants led you into another hall, one that had been specifically set up for dancing.

The orchestra began a gentle tune and soon men and women began to pair off and dance together. Ladies and Knights dancing together filled the room as you watched with your parents. You smiled as you watched the laughing couples spin around the floor.

‘A beautiful party tonight, I must congratulate you!’ Queen Zhong’s voice pulled your attention away from the dance floor. You looked over as she placed an affectionate kiss on your mother's cheek and your father shook hands with King Zhong.

Your mother thanked her as they all laughed together. You smiled at the sight, watching silently from the sides. It wasn't long before you were approached and asked to dance, however, it was not by who you had expected.

‘Y/n, would you care to join me for a dance?’ King Zhong offered out his hand to you, a friendly smile on his face.

‘I would be honoured.’ You replied, a similar smile stretching across yours.

King Zhong led you into the dance floor and guided you as the music continued to play. You danced through the steps that you had been learning since you could walk, making them almost second nature to you now.

‘I know that this marriage may not be what you wanted.’ King Zhong suddenly said, surprising you with his bluntness. ‘I know my arranged marriage wasn't what I wanted.’ You looked up at him with raised eyebrows. He nodded, reiterating his point. ‘I was only a year older than you and Chenle are now, my wife only a year older than me. We were married within a week of meeting and it took us over a year after the wedding until we could even call ourselves friends. The pressure of an arranged marriage, especially one as important as yours, can place a huge amount of strain on any relationship. I wanted you to know that I understand that and I hoped that I would be able to give you a small piece of advice, y/n.’

‘What is that, your majesty?’ You asked, recognising the song coming to an end.

‘Don’t force this. Don’t rush it. You have all the time in the world to get to know each other, just enjoy meeting someone new and focus on being friends. Remember that this is about the two of you as well, not just our kingdoms, make sure that you are happy.’ He finished, looking down on you with a smile that reminded you so much of your father's.

‘Thank you.’ You replied honestly, feeling as though he had somehow sorted out many of the worries that were clouding your mind.

You both stepped away from each other and walked back to where the other royals were waiting. You watched as he took his wife by the hand and dragged her out to dance, encouraging your father to do the same.

While watching the two couples, who had had the same marriage you would too, you couldn't help but wonder if yours would ever have the same kind of happy ending.

You took a few steps backwards and accidentally bumped into someone causing you to quickly apologise and turn around, only to find yourself face to face with Chenle.

‘Your highness!’ You both said in sync, trying to apologise to the other at the same time.

You both stood there in silence for a few seconds, you were wracking your brain trying to think of something to say, when Chenle suddenly held out his hand.

‘Would you care to dance?’ His face held a hopeful smile that you already found impossible to say no to.

‘I would love to.’ You replied, slipping your hand into his.

You let Chenle take you into the middle of the dance floor before beginning to move together in sync. For a while you just let the music do the talking, filling the silence between the two of you with its instrumental words.

‘I could teach you if you want?’ Chenle suddenly said, making you look up at him in confusion.

‘Teach me what?’ You asked, furrowing your brows.

‘Piano, I meant piano. I- I could teach you how to play the piano if you wanted.’ A small blush dusted his cheeks, one which you couldn't help but think was rather cute.

‘I- I would love that. That would be so kind of you.’ You replied, smiling at his kind-hearted offer.

‘I wouldn't mind, I love playing so I’m happy to do it.’ He smiled back at you before continuing. ‘Although I do have one favour to ask of you, however.’

‘Oh?’ You said looking up at him.

‘Could you possibly show me around the castle? It’s kind of large and I don’t know my way around any of it yet. I nearly got lost on my way here...’ He mumbled the last bit to himself yet you still managed to catch it, making you laugh out loud slightly.

Chenle noticed you laughing and smiled at the sight. ‘Don’t laugh! I seriously was terrified I was going to be late. Imagine how awful that would be, our parents in the middle of a toast for the two of us and I’m not even there! I would not be able to live in this kingdom after that.’ By this point you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. You leaned your head down slightly to try to stifle your giggles and accidentally placed your forehead on Chenle’s shoulder. You lifted it off quickly and saw Chenle’s face, him still holding the same nervous look as when he was talking previously. This caused you to break out into a second fit of giggles, only this time Chenle couldn't hold himself back from laughing with you.

There you stood, dancing together and laughing over the same joke for ten minutes. If either of you had turned your head to the side, you would have seen your parents watching the both of you with fond smiles on all of their faces.

---

The next morning you found yourself sitting at your desk, flitting through some documents your mother had asked you to look at. None of them were anything to do with you, she had only recommended them so that you would have an idea of the kinds of things you would need to look at once you were crowned.

The documents were actually rather interesting, but since you had no power over anything to do with them, they seemed to be getting more boring with every word.

As soon as you heard the knock on the door, relief rushed through your system. Anything to take you away from this reading.

‘Oh thank god.’ You said to yourself before calling out ‘Come in.’ You lowered the page away from your face so that you could see who had entered your room.

‘Your highness! What can I do for you?’ You asked, moving the paper away from your face entirely and placing it down on your desk.

‘I’m not interrupting anything am I?’ Chenle asked, his eyes scanning over the documents on your desk.

‘No, no, not at all. Just some recommended reading from my mother.’ You explained. Chenle’s eyes widened slightly at that.

‘Your parents do that too! Give you documents to read so that you know what you’ll be dealing with once you’re crowned? Even though there's nothing you can do with them so you're not really learning much.’ He said, stepping closer to you.

‘Exactly that. Oh god, it’s nice to talk to someone who understands what it’s like. I mean, I get why she gives them to me, but, at the moment they kind of do nothing for me.’ You laughed, watching as Chenle laughed too.

‘Don’t they just get more boring the more you read?’

‘Honestly, I’ve never been so happy to hear someone knock on my door. Anyway, what can I do for you?’ You asked, offering Chenle a seat in front of you which he gladly took.

‘I was hoping I may be able to get that tour? It took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to find your room and the thought of being late to anything scares the hell out of me.’ Chenle said, looking at you hopefully.

‘Of course, I’d be happy to show you around. Just so you know, once your man servant is assigned, they will be able to escort you everywhere until you get your bearings.’ You stood up, Chenle following you and you began to walk towards the door. ‘Also, anything to get me away from that reading.’

Chenle burst into laughter, a surprisingly infectious high pitched laugh that easily made you laugh too.

---

You showed Chenle most of the palace. You began with the library and headed from there into the great hall, the throne room, the court physician and showed him around countless bedrooms and servant quarters.

You had finished the entire inside of the castle and knights’ training area and were calmly walking through the grounds when Chenle asked you what your favourite spot in the castle was. You sent him a grin.

‘I’ll show you, follow me.’ You led him quickly into the stables.

‘The stables?’ He asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

‘No, not the stables.’ You laughed before continuing to explain why you had stopped here. ‘It’s just easier and faster to get to my favourite place on horseback.’

Chenle nodded in confirmation, before following you fully inside. You greeted the stablehand with a smile before asking about any available horses. You already had yours which you had ridden for the past few years, but were hoping to get Chenle one which he may keep as his.

You brought Chenle to your horse, allowing him to greet the pure black stallion, called Obsidian, which you rode. The stablehand brought him out and began to saddle him up while you showed Chenle a few available horses. He immediately began to walk towards the grey spotted stallion, standing in front of it for a few seconds before stroking it.

‘I’ve always wished for a horse like this.’ He said over his shoulder. ‘Ever since I was young I wanted one this colour which I would call Aspen.’

You stepped forwards with a smile.

‘Then he’s yours.’ You said.

Chenle whirled around and stared at you in disbelief.

‘He’s what now?’ He asked, all formality that was usually present in your conversation disappearing due to his shock.

You laughed and gestured to the stable hand that this was the horse he wanted before speaking again.

‘Well, since you are now living here, I thought you may want your own horse. You can ride him whenever you like, will take him with you if you journey anywhere and, most knights take theirs into battle with them too.’

For the first time since you met him, Chenle seemed genuinely speechless. He just stared at you, eyes wide and mouth open before stuttering out a:

‘Th- thank you.’

You just smiled and nodded before heading out of the stables to where your horses were saddled up and waiting.

You both quickly mounted before calling out to Chenle, to follow you. You dug your heels into Obsidian’s sides and began to move off. You started off at a gentle canter before speeding up into a full gallop.

Chenle kept close behind you, impressing you with his riding skills. You galloped out of the castle and into the woodland before continuing up a path that you knew well. The trees rushed in a blur of green and brown beside you and you looked to your left and saw Chenle riding exactly next to you. You both smiled at each other before you nodded your head to the right and shouted,

‘This way!’

The wind flew through your hair as you took Chenle uphill towards a cliff edge before, finally, beginning to slow down.

Your horses were panting heavily by the time you arrived, having been riding at a fast pace for a short while. You tied them to a tree next to a river nearby and left them to drink and recover whilst you brought Chenle to the cliff edge.

‘This is my favourite spot.’ You said, looking out on the marvellous view in front of you that never failed to take your breath away.

From this cliff edge you could see the entire citadel. The castle stood proud in all its glory and the town travelled all the way down to the walls by the lower gates. The view stretched past the lower town and outside of the city walls, where you could see a few farming fields and the closer outlying villages.

You sat down on the comfortable grass, Chenle sitting beside you.

‘Enlighten me, your highness, why is it that your favourite spot in the castle isn't actually in the castle?’ He asked, tearing his eyes away from the scenery to look at you.

‘Because, there's more to a kingdom than just it’s castle’ You explained. ‘I like to look at it from here because I can see the people. My people. Who I love and will do any I can to protect, with or without an oath. Here I can see everything and, I feel fulfilled, like everything makes sense.’

Chenle watched you, nodding with more sincerity and seriousness than you had seen on him yet. Then the small mischievous grin you had come to recognise spread across his face.

‘So... you can speak multiple languages, dance beautifully, ride better than half of the knights I’ve ever seen... I don’t suppose there are any other talents of yours I should know about?’ He asked, looking at you out of the corner of one eye.

You smiled at the question, keeping your eyes trained on the view in front of you.

‘Stay tuned.’ You stated, enjoying the conversation between the two of you without formalities. It was much easier to talk to Chenle when you weren't so aware of keeping up the royal facade. After sitting there for a few more minutes, admiring the view and making idle conversation, you finally made a move to stand. ‘Let’s go. I’ll show you one of the outer villages then we can head back.’

As soon as he saw you moving to get up, Chenle shot to his feet quickly and offered out a hand for you to take. You smiled and accepted it, allowing him to pull you up from the ground. You headed back towards your horses and mounted once again. You set off at a quick pace, enjoying the wind in your hair and the shouts of conversation from Chenle behind you. You travelled all the way to the outer village laughing and joking, only to be greeted with a sight that was anything but happy.

The village was under attack.

---

You and Chenle rode into the small village, the utter chaos surrounding you distracting anyone from noticing who the two of you were.

You quickly jumped down from your horse and looked over at Chenle who was staring at you with almost unnoticeable fear in his eyes.

‘Get the horses and yourself out of here. Keep them safe and I’ll find you in a bit.’ You instructed. You watched as Chenle’s expression clearly changed to worry.

‘What about you? What are you going to do?’ He asked.

‘I’m going to help my people.’ You stated. And with that you turned around and ran into the battle. You stopped briefly to grab a sword from a fallen bandit before moving to protect your citizens.

You swung the sword upwards to block an attack on a kneeling villager and deftly redirected the blow. You stepped in front of the injured man and faced the bandit head on. He stepped forward to swing at you and you brought your sword up to protect yourself, but he suddenly stopped, grunted slightly and fell to the ground.

Behind him stood Chenle, sword raised and eyes on the fallen bandit.

‘Are you okay?’ He asked, his face filled with concern.

‘What are you doing?’ You replied. You knew you should probably thank him but at this moment you were so shocked that that was all you could get out.

‘Helping the people. If they're your people, that means they're now my people and I’m not planning on waiting on the sidelines while you fight for them.’ He said firmly, grabbing your hand and pulling the fallen villager up and helping him into a house for shelter.

You felt pure admiration filling your chest. The boy had been here for under 48 hours and was already risking his life for a kingdom and people he didn't know. You quickly grabbed hold of his hand, forcing him to look at you.

‘Thank you, your highness.’ You said, looking him straight in the eye. He nodded and you turned back towards the battle.

The next minutes were a blur of whirring swords, shouts of pain and worry and the sound of metal clashing on metal. It didn't take long for the news of your arrival to spread throughout the village, scaring half of the bandits away. The last thing they wanted to do was be known by name to the future rulers and current heirs of the kingdom.

As you watched the last few bandits disappear into the woods, you turned to the village leader and asked for their name.

‘If you are ever troubled by these bandits again, you are to send word to the castle immediately. Knights will be here within the hour.’ You announced to the villagers.

‘How can we ever thank you, your highness?’ The village elder asked, bowing his head in respect. You smiled at him.

‘Work hard and help your children grow up well. I don’t ask for anything more than knowing that my people are living well.’ You replied honestly. You never felt the need to take anything from the villagers, you would much rather know that they were happy and healthy.

You walked towards Chenle, who had reappeared with both of your horses. You had no idea where he had hidden them, but you were just glad that they hadn't been stolen. You mounted before reassuring the village with one final statement.

‘Prince Chenle and I will inform the king and queen of the bandits. I will personally ensure that food and medicine are taken down here to replenish what you have lost. If you know of any other villages with similar problems, please alert us and we will send knights down as reinforcements.’

You heard the villagers whisper Chenle’s name in awe. The outer villages hadn't seen him yet so it wasn't surprising that they had no idea who he was. You turned on your horse, Chenle doing the same and began to canter away, listening to the cheers and thanks echoing up from the relieved village behind you.

---

The ride back to the castle was a quiet one. You hadn't tried to speak yet, knowing that your main priority was to report the recent events to your father. But, just before you reached the walls, you slowed Obsidian to a stop, causing a confused Chenle to halt Aspen too. You dismounted and watched as Chenle did the same.

‘Is everything ok? Why aren't we going in?’ He asked, clearly having no clue what you were about to do.

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck.

‘Thank you, for helping me and my people.’ You whispered, arms tightening slightly.

To begin with, Chenle didn't seem to know what to do, his arms raised slightly but frozen there. He quickly recovered from the initial shock, however, securing his arms around your waist and pulling you even closer to him. You were taken aback by how easy it was to hug him and how comforting he was. You both stayed in this position, neither of you wanting to be the first to let go.

‘We need to tell my father what happened.’ You eventually said. ‘He’s probably wondering where we are since we did kind of just disappear.’

You felt Chenle nod into your shoulder and you both slowly drew your arms out from around each other. You took a step back, too self conscious to be able to look him in the eyes and quickly remounted Obsidian. You kicked him gently, spurring him into a gentle canter and made your way back through the castle gates.

---

You and Chenle stood in the throne room, in front of your parents explaining the events of that day.

‘- supplies that they have lost over the past few attacks.’ You finished, laying out your hopes for helping the village repair.

You parents nodded, taking the situation very seriously and both agreeing with your plan to help rebuild and protect the targeted villages.

‘We will send a group of knights to them to deliver the supplies and get the names of the other villages that may be struggling as well. Thank you for bringing this to my attention Y/n. Chenle, thank you for stepping in. While I trust my y/n with a sword, I dread to think about what may have happened to the rest of the village, had you not decided to protect them as well. We are indebted to you.’

Your father’s words made Chenle smile slightly, even though he tried to hide it. Chenle bowed his head once before speaking himself.

‘It was an honour, your majesty. As your highness, y/n, pointed out to me today, the kingdom is more than just a castle, its spirit is in its people. And if I am to rule these people one day, I would like to know that I have protected them at any moment I could.’

You parents both smiled at Chenle’s words, their obvious approval making you smile too. Your mother then raised her concerned voice to speak her final thoughts.

‘Thank you, both of you for your duty today. It may be wise to see the court physician to ensure that neither of you have any serious injuries.’

You both nodded before bowing and exiting the room, making your way towards the castle’s doctor.

---

After both being cleared of any serious injuries, you and Chenle both being prescribed an ointment for various bruises and one small cut on Chenle’s arm, you offered to walk Chenle back to his room.

‘I doubt you’ve managed to memorise the entire castle yet.’ You joked.

‘Not quite.’ He replied, a similar smile on his face. ‘I did get rather caught up in other business today though.’

You smiled down at the ground and you walked along the grey stone floors. Chenle cleared his throat.

‘So, you can fight well with a sword too. You continue to surprise me, your highness.’

Your face broke out into another smile.

‘I told you to stay tuned. Besides I can't have you getting bored this early can I?’ You joked, a laugh breaking out of Chenle at that.

‘I guess not...’ Chenle paused his sentence as you reached his door.

‘Also...’ You began, drawing Chenle’s attention as he placed his hand on the door handle. ‘Please, call me Y/n. I’d like for us to drop some of the formalities if you're okay with that?’

Chenle smiled at your question.

‘I’d love that. And, please call me Chenle, all formalities forgotten.’

You breathed a small sigh of relief, feeling as though you were standing next to a new friend rather than a stranger you would soon marry.

‘Goodnight, Chenle.’ You said, unable to take the smile off your face.

‘Goodnight, Y/n.’ He replied, before stepping inside his room and closing his door behind him.

And there you both stood, on either side of the same door, both smiling at the simple thought of the other.

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booksforevermore13 · 4 years ago

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The monster within me (doesn't exist)

Summary: "Hate you?" Sirius pulled away and held Remus by his shoulders, "You ass, we could never hate you."

There's an unwritten rule in the stones that the Marauders stick together. No matter what. Remus learns that in his second year.

Author's Note: Just my version of how the Marauder's learn about Remus' furry little problem. Read it on Fanfiction if your prefer!

...

Remus had always loved the wind, for it came so boldly, rousing him to a wakefulness, an alertness, that let him savour each and every moment in the Forest despite the nearing torment.

In soft breezes, finer than silk, and smoother than water, it sang past the trees, sending the dried autumn leaves on a dancing funfair ride, hypnotic and beautiful. The warmth that had been in the wind just last week had either evaporated into the sky or leached into the earth, making way for the beguiling autumn breeze.

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself in his mother's garden, listening to the birds chirping away and the slight buzz of the bees come to suck the nectar from his mother's begonias.

But he wasn't there.

Remus grunted as a jolt of pain snapped up his back, numbing his shoulders and sending nervous tingles down his spine. He stopped in his tracks and doubled over as his stomach lurched. His eyes teared up as webs of pain started slithering up his body, flaring up whatever they touched.

He should have gone to the Hospital Wing. The pain had started weeks before it should have and he knew he should have gone and informed Madam Pomfrey as soon as the first aches had started, but he hadn't. He hadn't because James and Sirius had been planning a prank for the last few weeks and Remus couldn't find it in himself to lie to them again, to say he had the flu when it was far from that. He needed a chance at normalcy, a chance at actually feeling human, and in his ridiculously miserable life where things rarely lasted, he needed every chance he could get.

Remus felt his legs give out as he fell on his knees, sure that he had scraped the skin off, but he hardly noticed. A blinding pain had started pulsing in his head, moving across his forehead until it became a constant, growing hum. A shriek left his throat as he collapsed completely, clutching his head, clutching his body as his bones snapped and his ankles turned all the way around, as his spine cracked and he bent backwards.

And then all he knew was pain.

...

White walls and white ceilings.

That's what he woke up to.

How Dickensian.

Remus' eyes ached as he looked around his small confined space, hidden from view by scratchy, white curtains.

Normally, he'd wake up to Madam Pomfrey looking at him, her grey irises tinged with concern and underlying pity. She'd ask how he felt and he'd answer 'fine' even though he felt far from fine, and she'd start fussing over him, giving him a dozen potions one after the other, so that in the end he felt as if he was munching on wet sand and wanted to throw up all over her spotless white curtains.

This time, however, there were no grey irises, no condescending questions and no potions. Nothing even remotely similar to what normally happened.

Remus' throat closed up in dread as he remembered the events of the previous night. He hadn't made it to the Shrieking Shack. He'd… he'd collapsed and… and he had screamed in pain but that was all he remembered.

This… this shouldn't have happened. Had he hurt anyone? Had he hurt…would Dumbledore expel him, now that he'd messed up?

He'd messed up. Merlin, he'd messed up so bad. He should have gone to Madam Pomfrey as soon as the pain had set in. A person like him didn't deserve normalcy, and now due to his own careless whims, someone could have been hurt. What if he had bitten someone?

Remus' breath grew haggard as the thought crossed his mind. He wouldn't be able to bear it if he was the reason someone else got turned. If someone else had to bear what he had to bear every single month. He couldn't have, could he?

Merlin, he felt like a monster. He was a monster.

Remus heard the curtains open and his head snapped to the right, expecting Madam Pomfrey to come hurrying in, her voice drowning out his thoughts as she fussed over him.

Instead, he met with crescent-shaped glasses, blue eyes behind them, but they didn't have the twinkle he associated them with. There was a grave expression on Dumbledore's face and Remus knew almost immediately that he'd ruined everything.

"Did I do something… did I hurt..." Remus managed to croak out, his throat constricted with tears.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus breathed in shakily and nodded as Dumbledore took a seat at the edge of his bed. He couldn't trust himself to talk, or else he knew he'd fall apart for ruining whatever he had left.

"No one was hurt, in answer to your question," Dumbledore said, and Remus let out an inaudible sigh of relief.

"—but I believe this time, it was different. More excruciating, I suspect."

Remus nodded, "I'm sorry I didn't come here earlier, this… this could have been—"

"Mr. Lupin, you were found on the edge of the Forbidden Forest by the centaurs. You were bleeding profusely, and had we not got you here the moment we did, you would not have survived."

Remus gulped, his hands shaking. "Are you going to expel me, Professor?" he asked, feeling sicker by the minute.

Dumbledore looked at him through his glasses, as if he was deciding Remus' fate that very second. "Had a student found you there, then things would have been very different. Calamatic, even. The Forbidden Forest is out of bounds, Mr. Lupin, and yet if you hadn't decided to take that certain path, then I believe there would have been casualties."

"There is no easy way to tell you this, Mr. Lupin, but the events that occurred last night could have gone very badly indeed. Kindly don't hesitate to refer to Madam Pomfrey if and when a situation arises not unlike this one."

When, he said when. Would this happen again?

Remus watched as Dumbledore got up from the bed, still peering at Remus through his thin glasses. He turned around to go, moving the curtains aside slightly, before facing Remus again.

"And no, Mr. Lupin, I will not be expelling you. Not today or anytime soon. We all make mistakes, Mr. Lupin, but this cannot be categorized as one."

Remus could have almost cried in relief, his chest lightening as Dumbledore stepped out of his corner, his robes trailing on the white ground.

Everything seemed to be white around here, much to Remus' distaste.

"I believe you have visitors," he heard Dumbledore's voice across the room, and he frowned, hardly registering what he had said before the curtains were yanked aside and he was met with a set of concerned grey eyes.

"Sirius," he breathed out, his eyes watering as the black-haired boy threw himself against him, hugging him gingerly as though he knew he was hurt.

He didn't, did he? There was no way he could.

"I was so worried," he heard Sirius say. "We met Dumbledore in the corridors and he was going to the Hospital Wing, and you were the only one there so we thought something was wrong and you had become sicker and he was coming—"

"Sirius, I'm fine," Remus said and Sirius let him go, pulling away as he took a seat beside him on the bed. James and Peter stood behind him, identical frowns of concern and question on their faces.

"Are you really?" they asked at the same time, and Remus laughed.

"I am now," he said and he meant it.

...

"Lily's reading the same book," James declared as he took a seat beside Remus.

"What?" Remus craned his head over to where James was sitting, the growing ache in his limbs dull and constant.

"Pride and Prejudice," James frowned, "She's always reading it."

Remus shared a look with Sirius, smiling as they looked at a very pondering James.

"It's her relief book," Remus said knowingly. He'd noticed it too, albeit upon James pointing it out to him, but he'd noticed it and once he noticed something, it became awfully hard for him to unnotice it.

"What's a relief book?"

"Everyone has one," Remus said, before correcting himself. "At least, all readers have one. It's something you turn to when you're stressed or sad or simply want to bash someone's head in a wall."

They were silent for a while and Remus turned to his book, his eyes scanning over the pages, yet nothing registering in his head as he waited for their response.

"What's yours?" Sirius finally asked and Remus frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"What's your relief book?"

Remus thought about it it, the question slightly blowing him off course before he raised the book he was reading.

"War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells," Sirius read off the cover. "What's it about?"

"Aliens." Sirius made a face and Remus hurried to explain himself. "It's about people from outside the planet and people from here, and uhh… it's about destruction and uhh… collateral damage.

Collateral damage. Maybe that's why he liked the book so much. There was a hell lot of collateral damage in it. He was collateral damage. His entire life was collateral damage from a bloody freak accident.

"—are you stressed then?" he heard Sirius ask and closed the book shut.

"No," Remus swallowed. "I just really want to bash someone's head in a wall right now."

"Yeah?" Sirius smirked. "Who?"

"No one you know," Remus replied.

"Is it James?"

"No."

"Is it Peter?"

"No."

"Is it me?"

"Oh, hell no."

"Then is it you?"

Yeah, Remus wanted to say. But he settled on, "No."

…

He didn't see them for hours at a time. He'd come out of Charms by himself, no Sirius joking about Flitwick's moustache, he'd go to lunch alone and there wouldn't be a Sirius urging him to eat an extra piece of chicken or offering him his share of treacle tart.

Remus half thought he'd done something wrong even though Sirius had told him he'd done nothing of the sort.

But he'd been distant lately, turning Remus down for a game of Exploding Snap, avoiding the Common Room when Remus was sitting there, doing his homework, not tagging along as Remus went to the Library.

He'd done something wrong, he knew. He always did something wrong. Messed up everything good that came his way.

He stepped out of the Common Room, sorely missing the company of the other three as he made his way to the Library.

He'd found himself spending less and less time there, for without the company of Sirius who was solely there to get ticked off by Madam Pince, the Library felt too quiet.

And yet, Remus found himself making his way there, his footsteps quick and silent, his shadow appearing to slink across the growingly dark walls.

He pushed open the wooden door, squinting as the golden-yellow rays of the sun fell directly over his eyes, and made his way to his designated corner of the library.

Remus had expected to be the only one there. He almost always was. He'd certainly not expected to come across three overly-familiar figures, two of them poring over a book while the third tried to look over their shoulders.

"Sirius?" Remus heard himself wondering out loud. "Peter? James?"

Their heads snapped over to him, Sirius jerking in surprise as the book fell out of his hand and landed near Remus' feet.

"What-what are you doing here?" Sirius asked, albeit a bit loud as Madam Pince shushed him from her desk.

"I could ask you the same thing," Remus said, hurt brimming in his chest as he bent over to pick up the book. His back ached as he did, and rightly so, because the full moon was approaching and Remus nearly recoiled as his eyes landed on the drawing of a werewolf and then of a man transforming into one.

Panic creeped up his throat as he looked at the three of them, his eyes directly on Sirius' as his mouth moved, but no words came out. "Wha-what's this?" he managed, the book thumping as it fell on the desk.

"Why are you reading about werewolves? It's not in our course yet. W-why then?" Remus asked, his words frantic as he looked at James, Peter and Sirius one by one. They each had a guilty expression on their faces, and deep down, Remus knew they had figured it out.

"It's not… Remus, we… we were just… just," Sirius stuttered. He never stuttered.

Remus breathed in heavily. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry, I didn't, I'm not… I am."

And then he ran out of the library, Sirius's shouts for him to stop unheard by him.

…

"We must remember what ruthless and utter destruction—" Remus's voice cracked and a tear slipped out of his eye, sliding down his cheek and falling on the ground, "our own species has wrought, not only upon animals—" and then he stopped and wiped his tears, but didn't make a move to get up from the ground.

He didn't know why it affected him so much, them knowing. Maybe it was because he didn't want them to know he was a monster, a killer, maybe it was because he didn't want them to be disgusted by him, even though he was disgusted by himself. Or maybe it was simply because after all these years, he couldn't stomach his own identity.

Remus closed his eyes, his eyelids spilling out the tears gathered at the corners.

The daylight had dwindled to a barely perceptible lighting of gloom, and Remus couldn't find it in him to get himself up. His shirt was soaked, the moisture from the moss seeping into his skin, sending slight shivers down his back. Dusk had set and he knew he had to go back but he didn't want to.

He wouldn't be able to bear it when he went back to the castle. Their stares, their terrified stares that showed they were revolted by him. Sirius looking at him as if he was a…a…

Dumbledore would surely throw him out now. He'd already messed up once. Now that they knew, he'd have no choice but leave.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he sobbed, his silent cries seeming to echo among the oak. He hardly heard his name being screamed out, or the footsteps nearing him until his eyes snapped open and he saw a frantic Sirius crouching beside him.

"Everyone's looking for you!" Sirius screamed before lunging towards Remus' lying form, pulling him up in a hug.

Remus flinched, his body tense before he relaxed into Sirius' body.

"Everyone?" he asked, his voice scratchy from all the crying. Everyone? Did everyone know?

Sirius sighed. "Just James and Peter," he said. "We've been looking for you everywhere! Have I ever told you you're an ass?"

And then Remus burst out crying, his sobs loud and torturous, tears rolling down his face and onto Sirius' shoulder. "You hate me now," he cried. "I ruined everything, I can't, I didn't mean to—"

"Hate you?" Sirius pulled away and held Remus by his shoulders. "You ass, we could never hate you."

Remus sniffled as tears fell on the cold, wet ground before he felt nimble fingers lifting his chin up to meet stormy grey eyes he would have recognized anywhere in the goddamn world.

"Remus," Sirius urged. "Remus, we don't care if you're a werewolf, we really don't. For all we know, you have a furry little problem you've to take care of once a month and that's that. Nothing more—"

"I'm a werewolf. You should stay away from me. I could hurt you, I could… I could kill you. You have no idea—"

"Remus, I've seen you in your bloody Mickey Mouse underwear. You couldn't hurt a cockroach if you tried," Sirius said.

"But—"

"If you say we should stay away from you one more time, I'm going to stab you with a rusty knife," Sirius said fiercely. "You are a Marauder. There's an unwritten rule in the stones that Marauders stick together. No matter what."

Sirius hauled himself up, before offering a hand to Remus, who looked at it for a few seconds before gingerly taking it.

"And going off to the Forbidden Forest? That sounds like something I would do, which means you shouldn't," Sirius said, before sighing heavily. "Your back is wet, did you know?"

Remus nodded, shrugging to get his wet shirt loose when he felt Sirius drape his sweater over his back.

"You need it more than I do," he said as Remus gave him a questioning look.

Remus gave a watery chuckle before they lapsed into a comfortable silence, navigating through the woods by the dimming light of the sun.

"We have a plan," Sirius said a few minutes later. "A plan to help you when you transform."

"It won't work—"

"Shh," Sirius glared playfully. "Why do you think we've been in the library all week? The library. Me in the library. People should pay to see me there."

"Sirius," Remus said exasperatedly.

"Shh," Sirius glared. "Don't be such a sour wolf."

"A what?"

"A sour wolf," Sirius repeated with the most serious expression Remus had seen on him yet. "And fair warning, if James decides to kill you for being an ass, don't blame me. I'm innocent."

Remus laughed, a real laugh this time.

"That's not fair at all," he said softly as the school grounds came into view.

Maybe he couldn't bear being a werewolf, maybe he was a monster and maybe he wasn't, but he had Sirius by his side, and James, and Peter, and as crazy they were, hell, he was crazy too but he was glad he had them. They were part of his life, and a colossal part too, but they were there and he was happy.

#fanfiction #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #marauders #werewolf #slight hints of wolfstar #beginning of a wolfstar relationship #wolfstar #lily evans #the marauder's second year #my version of how the marauders learnt that Remus was a werewolf #Albus Dumbledore #written for the quidditch league fan fiction competition

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nurseofren · 4 years ago

Text

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 27 (NSFW)

Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad

Read Chapter twenty-six

Title: There is No Redemption

Words: 7.4K

Summary: Happy trail worship? Happy trail worship.

ST Rambles: Hello readers, I hope you enjoy this part. I am in my final semester for my ADN and cannot promise even monthly updates at this time. Please, please, please comment your thoughts because I don't want to produce content that is not enjoyable. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

[MASTERLIST] || BANNER / @elmidol

Stress enveloped your skull in throbbing pain, Karmen’s six-hour rundown stinging your senses and drawing you inward. Halfway through, you had already begun to feel the excess of information take its toll; Zag’s voice – unpleasant in small doses – grated into you, each word coming too fast and leaving too soon. Thankfully, no doubt to cover herself, she had left you with a thumb drive; it summarized everything she’d mentioned.

After the ordeal, when she left by the sharp click of her heels, you understood why it was recommended to arrive two days prior to the initial hearing: you were utterly and dreadfully exhausted. After unpacking – ensuring easy access to your favorite socks and keeping Snoke’s letter tucked into the back drawer of a desk – you had sat in bed for an hour trying to refresh with the thumb drive’s contents; you’d were determined to be prepared for tomorrow’s shift at Canto Bight’s recovery wing. If nothing else, you would not make a fool of yourself during your practice here. This you swore to yourself.

At some point you had drifted to sleep, waking to find your cheek stuck to the datapad that’d been propped up before you. The sunset woke you with a searing ray of light, screaming fuchsias and hazy purples warming your outstretched arm as they cast through open curtains. The breeze rolled off of the bay and tickled loose hair over your nape, a deep breath stretching your lungs awake before you unfurled from yourself.

The radar at your wrist indicated Kylo Ren was near but not in his quarters, probably not inside the building. It was a confusing feeling – the unsteadiness you felt when revisiting your earlier interaction, the vagueness of his words contradicted by the certainty in which they’d been delivered, but simultaneously this calm in your chest since you had left him. Although you had no idea what he’d gone on about, or what in time meant, his mere presence – the fact that he was near and would continue to be – allowed you these glimmers of peace.

Not since Starkiller. Not since Snoke. Not Mason and his baseless confidence, no matter how much you wished to latch onto it; not Talia, who had helped you back from your darkest moment. The only things that stilled you were the known proximity of your master, and the nature of the words he’d earlier spoken. You’d felt it that recent night on the Finalizer, how it lingered in your muscles just before you’d dozed off, how it seemed his presence had scared your nightmares away.

However ridiculous and backwards, Kylo Ren – the one whose pain is printed on your skin, who led a slaughter just strides away from you – had become a constant. It was never what you had expected, but when you thought of the trial now, what eased your nerves was nothing less than the raven-haired warrior whose face was slashed with midnight hues of pain.

Much like you, you’d come to realize, he had survived Starkiller, and the event changed him. Though you could not know for sure, you began to wonder if what had gone on had not only left him with the wounds that’d wet your skin, but perhaps ones that were deeper – ones that were not so visible. Something happened before that explosion, something more than whatever fight had earned him that scar.

You shook your head; this was too much to think on right now. With a throw draped over your back, you trudged through the room and out into the chill of your side-balcony. This sky held more beauty than any you’d ever seen; you watched the sun descend, spying a domed, octagonal pavilion at the far left of the side gardens. It dripped with violet-petaled ropes and emerald ivies, was supported by scalloped columns entwined with twinkling blooms welded from gold, the whole stage centered around a sunken fire pit.

Considering for a moment, you saw it would have a better view of the sunset, and you’d been cooped up since arriving. It was a quick decision, catching view of a spiral of stairs that led to the grounds, but only after noting the pair of doors a few paces left of your room’s. They were closed, and the inner curtains seemed to be shut, the room behind them dark. Empty.

No, Kylo Ren was not here, but – a thumb over your radar – he was not far. Somewhere off on his own business. Training, maybe. At least, that’s what you supposed kept you from traveling with him, the thought frustrating. Maybe – no, undoubtedly – he would never admit to it, never show it, but he was still recovering.

Ten days ago he was in a medically induced coma talking about someone named Ben and how he’s dead. Bacta works wonders, but it means nothing if a patient is noncompliant with post-operative restrictions, like swinging around a plasma sword for hours on end, or doing trial runs with the Force – which, although you knew little about, one could easily assume it put strain on the body.

Maybe you were wrong and your master was completely fine, maybe the Force aided in healing. No matter, you worried; for him, mostly, never forgetting how he appeared in that medbay, but also for yourself. It was clear that you cared for him – for fuck’s sake, when you thought you’d never see him again you wanted to tell him you loved him – and you knew his pursuits could very likely be the death of him. Stubborn as you might be to acknowledge it, so long as he was okay and not recklessly shredding through healed wounds, so long as he returned to you, you could rest somewhat soundly.

Hugging your blanket, tighter when the wind blew, you wandered down to the courtyard’s trim lawn, along the overflowing flowerbeds that brimmed with brilliant colors, until you met the few steps that led to the pavilion’s stage. Flames shocked you when you stepped onto the eight-sided base, your presence triggering a hidden system. The rectangular pit exploded into a rainbow of fire, thin veils of flames ascending elegantly into an ordered myriad. The pit was massive, consuming the base but for a few paces from each support.

Much like everything else, the pavilion was grand in size and decoration; the hearth’s hues danced along the draped flora, at least ten paces separating each gold-threaded pillar. Everything here was explicitly luxurious, so big and gorgeous. You wanted to settle into it, but it was temporary, and you would not know how fatal that fact was until it was too late.

Farther out, flames rippled over the bay; the sinking heat of the sun endeared your skin, the warmth at your back growing in distance as you gave in to the silent call of the scorching sky. First tracing the tip of one of the gold leaves woven to a pillar, admiring the detailed stems and ridges, you curled up against the column’s wide base. Head caressed by the smooth, cool stone, knees curled close to your chest, you were glamored by the water’s rhythmic sway, wondering if you would ever have the chance to feel it on your skin.

It took little effort to keep Karmen’s lecture from your thoughts, too lost to the burgundy of dusk that bloomed as the sun wilted toward the bay. A stillness surrounded you, and then you tuned into the chirping whispers of bugs that remained hidden with the fall of night. It did not bother you in the slightest, their distant songs a reminder of your life before the academy. A passing thought, fond amusement lazily humming in your chest – there are no crickets in space.

You remained folded against the pillar for some time, watching night creep over the city, more grateful for the heat on your back as warmth waned, the moon climbing higher with each lulling minute. The stone iced into your cheek. You went to leave, but your commlink buzzed at your waist, and you knew it would be wiser to keep this particular conversation outside.

Elbows to your knees, you ruffled a hand through your hair, closed your eyes, and answered Mason’s call. “How’s your day, McCarty?” There was no use in starting an argument if he had moved on from earlier.

“Probably better than yours, if I had to guess.” He sounded chipper. It was a relief.

“Well, what went on? Where’d you go? Who’d you see? What’d you eat?”

“I’ve really just been hanging out at the house since getting here. Caught a nap, which was nice. Soto sent me a transmission detailing updates on a few patients.”

He wasn’t hostile at all. Hopefully it meant he was done being weird. “I also got a nap. Which, agreed, is definitely nice. Especially after being kept in a room with Zag for six hours and trying to keep my head from exploding.”

“Six hours? With Zag? Are they trying to get you convicted of murder?”

You shared a laugh, scooting along the stone floor and peering up to the ceiling. It was tiled with mosaics, the fire’s vibrant colors reflecting off of it and shifting along the intricate designs. The view of the city was wider from this position, distant lights shimmering in windows that peered into whatever parties were undoubtedly happening.

“She isn’t that bad. It’s just her voice. And I barely have a handle on anything other than the fact that I have my first shift tomorrow, and then two days after that is the initial hearing. And I don’t even want to think about that to begin with, so…”

“Well,” he sighed your name, “I’ll be there. Bright and early, just like you. Wearing my second-best attire, saving the very best for the official trial, of course.”

“Jeez, that’s another thing, right? They fly us out here, put me up in some military-grade villa, but they give me nothing to wear, are aware that my residence just exploded on Starkiller, and then still say I can’t wear my uniform. I just find that a bit unfair. But that’s what I think, which we both know has not mattered since the very beginning of all this. I don’t even know why I expected anything different. I’ll just have to request transport to the shops or something. And then make credits appear out of thin air to pay for it.”

With notably increased enthusiasm Mason said, “Actually, I, uh, I was going through the house earlier and there’s actually a lot left over from my family’s recent trip. You’re free to come over and take some stuff back to your embassy if you want.”

“Alright, first – not my embassy, and if we’re calling it anything, I vote palace. Seriously—” you stared at a trellis that overflowed with wild blooms of every shade of red, the dead, fallen petals mocking you in the familiar way they pooled beneath. “—this place is too beautiful for any of the old businessmen who stay here. It’s actually ridiculous.”

“So it’s not homey, after all?”

A bellowing laugh came from the center of your chest, echoing up to the domed roof and into the growing dark. “No. No. Not homey. Not quaint. None of that. Just giant and spectacular.”

“Well, whatever it is, do you want to come over and grab some clothes?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah. That’s a lot better than spending credits I don’t have. Although maybe I’m worrying for nothing? Don’t they forgive your debt when you die, anyway?”

Mason did not laugh, did not even speak, and your amusement fell into alarm. An edge menaced along each pointed word when he spoke; “Maybe they’ll forgive your debt, but I won’t forgive you for dying.” He grunted in rejection. “You’re not dying, so I don’t know why we’re discussing this.”

Silence swallowed you both, and for a moment you could hear him trembling, hear the shakiness of his breath. A sharp exhale startled your hand from your ear. And then it was quiet again. He cleared his throat, and you noticed how thick it had become. Was he crying?

“Mason, you need to tell me what’s going on. And don’t say-,”

“Nothing is going on. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“Funny, because when you say that, when you tell me we’re fine when I didn’t ask, it makes me think the exact opposite.”

He sighed, but at this point there was a good chance it was more exasperation or fuming than anything else. “I’m not having this conversation when I can’t see you.”

“Well, I’ll just turn my transmission on and we can-,”

“No.” Clipped, barked. Final.

It concaved your chest. Mason had never spoken to you like this. Your teeth scraped at your bottom lip. “Should I be worried?”

He paused. “No,” as it gritted through his teeth, your name was contoured with wisps of ire. An ounce less of restraint and whatever he was holding back would crack this hardened, taut façade.

The worst came to mind. All you could manage was a terrified whisper, “Are you revoking your seat to testify? Is that what this is about? Am I about – fuck – am I about to- I can’t lose you. I can’t-,”

“I told you. I told you I will be there.” Frosted fury swept through his following pause. His flat tone was laced with quiet hurt when he next said, “Do you really think I could do that to you? Leave you in the dust like that?”

“No. I guess not.”

“You guess not,” he thought aloud, a long drag of breath crackling into your ear. “I’m glad that you’re settled in, and… good luck during your shift tomorrow. You don’t need it, I know, but nonetheless.”

He was dismissing you. You hated it. “I’m not hanging up until I know we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” he said simply, too fast. Mason cleared his throat. “Request transport for the morning after your shift. You can shop around the closets and after, we can order lunch and… and we can talk. About things. Everything.”

It was apparent he would not give anything more away, but you knew from his flat tone that whatever it was, was detrimental to him. Or you. Or both.

“Yeah. I’ll put in the request after shift tomorrow.”

Another long, aching silence. You listened to his breath, trying and failing at ignoring the knives in it. The line remained silent, the hanging static a backdrop to the hidden, harmless creatures humming in the night.

“I love you, Mason,” you prompted, teeth catching your trembling lips, time choking you with every halved second that trudged along.

It killed you, every inhale adding to the weight in your chest, every empty, wordless moment he spent cutting into you with a silent blade.

Another second and you turned back to the heightening tide of the bay, the clear night sky dying it a deep navy. Even as you tried to focus on the waves that foamed along the distant shore, there was no sound louder than Mason’s nonresponse.

“Goodnight,” Mason said, small, far enough away that it splintered through your heart like ice wedged through rock.

“Good-,” the line went dead, the static dying, a night-kissed wave crashing in your periphery, “-night.”

The iridescent veils of hearth rippled before you now, turning away from the seemingly infinite expanse of water. Even so, you shivered, and you were sure it had nothing to do with the weather. Tucking your commlink into your waist pocket, loosing a long-kept breath, you stood from the stone and clasped your blanket over your shoulders. With a final glance, chin to your shoulder, you appreciated the beauty of your first night here.

Whatever awaited you tomorrow, the next day, and in the weeks to come? It would remain. For now, just this one moment alone, you could pretend that everything was okay. Just for a moment.

A soft touch brushed your shoulder, but when you turned to meet whoever it belonged to, you found there was no one around. But a light caught your eye, one that had not been there before. Maybe that interruption to the dark captured your attention, but not at all was it what kept your gaze above the gardens.

Through the clear night, a breeze danced through the flora, glittering scarlet petals into the shadows. Above those dwindling rubies, leaning over the balcony’s curve, was Kylo Ren. Behind him, the golden light of his quarters caressed his back, small fragments draping over the sharp, toned muscles of his shoulders. He was staring down to you, his gaze laving along your figure, eyes those of a predator aware their prey was no match for them. The ever-heightening moon was all that lit his front, but it was enough. No, so much more than enough. Entrancing. Captivating. Beguiling.

Light cascaded along the taut strength of Kylo’s abdomen, his broad, thick chest emanating with the smooth white of the dusk’s sun. Once more, like it always did, the scar skating through his features kept your attention. From a distance it was less intrusive, but its presence sank your heart like the sun had wandered into the sea.

A whip of night air pushed his hair back to tease his ears, his head slightly cocking to the side when you found his eyes again. There was no color to them, none that you could see so far away, but you felt their heat slink along your lips, then your neck, over your chest, and lower still. When they claimed yours once more, they were sculpted with steadfast steel, strong and slithering, ordering your compliance to the smoking promises beyond.

Without noticing, that chill from earlier had left you, and you gathered the blanket so it hung from your forearm. Kylo held you with his eyes, the fire’s warmth falling away when you stepped off the platform and wandered, in leisure, down the steps and into the plush lawn. A dew was readying to form on the grass beneath your bare feet, the coolness welcome under his blazing attention. One step, two, another, and a final; small, shuffling, like you were hypnotized – truthfully, you could have been, but there was none but your own intent in the steps that carried you closer to him.

Only when he straightened to his full height, standing away from the balcony’s edge, did you halt your advance. He paused there, watching you, so gracefully still you were unsure of his breathing. From his new position you could no longer see his hands, but – you could feel them. A pressure along your cheek, your heart stammering at how its span so completely matched his own, and then around your throat, dizzying when it teased your carotids. Breath shivered from your slack mouth, catching when that – his – ghosted touch skimmed down your sternum and pushed into your rib cage.

Kylo made no sound, but when the night’s quiet scattered around your faint, gasped moan – feeling the whispered hands smooth over your hips, around the front of your thighs – you saw his jaw flutter, darkness and moonlight tangling when he gave you one final glance. The phantom touch left, a feline smirk flickered along his lips, and when his brows descended and veiled those deep, deep eyes, Kylo turned and sauntered out of sight.

But you understood his message, the silent one that only his body spoke, and you knew that his leaving was not goodnight, but an invitation. One you fully intended on accepting.

The trees swayed above you, the beds of perfectly spaced flowers blowing with the gentle breeze and combining with the sea behind to fill your head with the salty, fresh aroma of a Canto Bight night. Each step you took along the patterned grass shimmered anticipation through your veins, heady, wanton thoughts brimming in your mind.

The cold stone that marked the ground level’s patio shocked through you, wet crimson petals that had pooled below the trellis now clinging to the soles of your feet. You did not have time, or at least were desperate to not waste any, to pluck them off, allowing them to travel with you as you led them up the curved staircase. As you climbed the steps, you stole a fleeting glimpse of the bay; from this height the city’s nightlife sheened along the shore, a few private ships zooming above the skyline and carrying their passengers to events unknown to you.

Events that you could not have cared less about, not when you arrived to the second-level balcony, not when you saw the swaying curtain beyond Kylo Ren’s open, waiting door. No, those events meant nil, exceedingly so when you found the beginnings of a trail leading into his room, the first crumb that of pooled, discarded athletic pants.

Instant, overwhelming chills clamored about your skull, the blanket draped over your arm joining the black bottoms when your limbs went wobbly. Through the wind-swept gossamer you spied the second addition – one long, impossibly large, black sock – and when you came closer, the cool of night waning as you met the threshold, your heart thrummed louder at the nearing shaft of light that fled the refresher’s entrance.

Heated tiles warmed your first steps into Kylo’s room, the coquettish curtain kissing the tip of your nose before the door at your back locked shut in near silence. You brushed past the veil of fabric and took in your surroundings, quite different from what they were earlier. The golden rays of morning had since been overridden by soft panes of night, only the moon reflecting onto the light tile, not a single star to join it. The bed’s canopy remained shut, its thin sheets cascading around the bed so there was ample space to walk within its soft confines. And from that canopy, from the circular track above, bloomed delicate, mild light; it melted midway down the canopy, fading to nothing before it breeched the polished ivory below.

Another step and you noticed the trail of scarlet, dew-drop-covered petals you were leaving in your wake. On the step up from the bed’s level lay a second sock, so you padded to it, and tuned into the sound of heavy, rushing water that became louder as you delved further into the dimly lit room. This level was dark save for the glow of the open refresher; you followed that light like a lost vessel in space, hands trembling as you passed through the sitting area with soundless strides. Finally, as you’d calculated at the earlier bareness of his chest, you found the piece of clothing that signaled your final destination lying at your feet.

Atop the refresher’s threshold lay a pair of black boxer-briefs – unfolded, just as they’d appear fresh off the heated, muscled body from which they’d come. A smile played at your lips, remembering how the pair he’d so generously provided you the morning after you’d first slept next to him had hugged your hips with subtle compression. Those, unfortunately, were undoubtedly obliterated with everything else that had exploded with Starkiller.

Kylo Ren was nowhere within view, but running water tucked behind a corner to your left, and when steam swirled around an inlet that bordered a sleek, unbroken wall of ash-grey tile, your lungs lit with need, with want, your thoughts only focused on the body and man that waited for you just beyond view, just out of reach. Suddenly you became aware of how overdressed you were, so you turned to your right and found a mirror that ruled its own wall and plucked open the top button of your uniform.

The fogged silver expanse provided a blurred, softened outline of your near-bare body, scalding goosebumps scraping up your neck at the thought of Kylo’s slicked, dripping body. Hands hooked behind your back, you loosed your bra and smoothed the straps down the sides of your arms. And then all that covered you were the lack-luster panties the Finalizer had provided all those months ago, but they soon joined the small pile at your feet, leaving you naked and anticipatory and adamant.

Plopping your watch onto your clothes, you squared your shoulders, fixed your posture, and approached the heat of the hidden shower. Its warm embrace evoked such a calm through you, first loosening your shoulders, then steadying your breath.

Beyond the smoke hued barrier was a chamber of luxury, the water cascading from above like it came from an invisible storm cloud; its volume suggested a harsh pressure, but, stepping beneath the jets that seemed to span the entire stall, your skin was graced with the pleasant fall of a spring shower. Looking up, blinking through the misted warmth, you found the navy night sky peering down at you through the clear glass ceiling.

All light but that of the moon left the stall, and when your attention shifted down, you saw him through the sheets of water that kept you apart. The air was thick with fog and mist and night, but he remained the most devastatingly gorgeous person you’d ever seen, ever known. You needed him to be closer, you needed to be closer to him. No matter if you’d been with him those few nights ago, and though you’d spoken just hours ago, there was a tautness that tightened as your steps brought you to him.

Arms at his sides, stance strong and confident, Kylo Ren was a stride away from you, and you stopped. Inky black hair dripped down his neck, and his mouth was set in a flat, unreadable line, but all you could think of was how it felt you were seeing him for the first time all over again. He was different now, body scarred and worn from the passing of time. You did not stare at the red and black that had only been there for such a short time now. You appreciated it.

Kylo observed you, and a measure after your gaze followed the ebony ribbon rested in his countenance, you lifted a hand to it. He tensed and you caught his eyes, giving him a small nod before the very tip of your fourth finger kissed the start of his scar. You watched him, vaguely aware of your hand slipping along the marked path through his brow and down his cheek. Breath pushed from him in eased waves, his eyes danced between yours, and when you reached the line of his jaw and tapped your finger to the raised, pinking skin there, you closed your eyes and leaned up on your toes so you could press an aching kiss to it.

That tenseness that’d clanged into him at your touch was instantly gone, the heated streams above not a match to the stifling relief that fogged from his nares. So near to him, a second hand pushing through wetted, onyx locks, you remembered how he’d stared up at you on the Command Shuttle, how unreadable his expression was when his new scars had still been fresh wounds.

Your touch found the tail end of his healing flesh, and you swallowed down a thick, betraying sob. “Why did you believe me?” you whispered, not looking up to him. “When I told you I hated you and I wanted to quit. When I said,” you winced, “when I called you a bastard and said I wished I could forget you. Why didn’t you fight it longer?”

Kylo was quiet for a moment, body still but not reluctant to the steady meandering of your fingers. Something haunted him when he said, “Irredeemable bastard, if you’ve forgotten.”

“No,” your throat bobbed, “I haven’t. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day. Any, any part of it.” Looking up at him, you smoothed your hand over the scar settled into his shoulder. “After that morning, after everything, why did you believe me?”

“You were saying goodbye,” he murmured, like he’d mulled over that day time and time again and never considered the possibility. “Before Takodana. You knew. He’d gotten to you by then.” A note of betrayal sharpened his tongue, a snarl lighting when he referred to Snoke.

The hand that wasn’t tracing circles along his scarred muscles now toyed with his ear, the tip of your index finger molding to the curved pinnae. “Kylo,” just a breath, nearly drowned by the water ricocheting at your feet, “answer me. Please.”

Smooth, low, he began, “Because who could-,” he swallowed, considering you before starting over, “Because I’ve never known anyone who didn’t hate me. And I’ve always been a bastard. So when you said those things, after that morning, after you’d ran through Starkiller to tell me and kept saying them…”

Memories fluttered behind his eyes, and as their burning brown centered glittered against the navy night, you lifted your hand so you could hold his face, hold it like a parent would caress their child’s tear-sodden cheek. Kylo blinked back to you and you comforted the purpled skin beneath his eye.

He did not want to voice the answers you sought, but you watched as, piece by piece, you dented one of those walls he’d erected in that time-stained interrogation room. Perhaps it was a hopeful thought, but you swore you felt him ease into your hand.

“I stopped fighting because only a fool counters the truth of his life.” Kylo’s throat bobbed, his deep, shadowed gaze swallowing you whole. He caught your hand and led it flat along his broad chest, and then to the panes of his abdomen, placing it over the bruised, raised flesh of the scar you’d yet to explore. “I believed you because there was no reason to doubt you.”

The showering heat from above shielded that which was blurring your vision. He believed you because he believed those things of himself. After seeing him wear so many masks, physical or phantom, you saw it in his eyes that he still thought those things and had for his entire life.

And then it made sense, and the realization dragged jagged, thorn-wrapped talons through your heart. You whispered through the water, wondering if you were speaking only for yourself when you said, “That’s why you didn’t look inside my head. You didn’t think it would show you anything different. You didn’t think I could ever feel differently.”

You ran your thumb along the uneven ridge of the scar forming over his side and tucked your other arm around his waist. With the force that kept moons anchored to their planets, you pulled him in and nestled into the notch of his breastbone.

Through your teeth, “You are not a bastard. Or irredeemable,” your fingers dipped to the center of the healing tissue, “I’ve learned that we make the choices we think are best, and if that’s true, if I believe it? What do either of us have to be redeemed for?”

Kylo said your name, clear as the night that loomed overhead, and a patient finger tipped your chin up. “Nothing. Because there is no redemption for those who do not want it.”

Intensity hardened his face, and once more you felt that sense of equality between him and you. Long fingers smoothed into your drenched hair, and you found a prompt in his brow. Sighing, lungs stuttering, you asked, “What, then, if not redemption?”

The hand that he’d set over yours shifted to your hip, thick fingers prodding at your flesh. Kylo’s touch left your chin and the pad of his thumb rolled over the faint scar that cut into your hairline, a twinge of pain lighting at the memory of its origin; it had healed days ago, but you would never forget the sound of it cracking open when Robbie knocked your skull against the durasteel door.

Kylo stopped musing when he heard you wince, his eyes meeting yours in a stark, unwavering gaze. He smoothed over the blight a final time and proceeded to skate his fingers along your jaw, his thumb coming to rest over your bottom lip. Similar to this morning, yet colder and with a quiet fury breathing beyond his eyes, he looked at you with solidarity.

Calm, sure, adamant, Kylo said, “Retribution.”

A moment to process was spent in his gaze, studying how unbreakable it was, swimming in the shadowed hazel that poured into you. Kylo’s eyes flicked to your lips, and before he could look away, you leaned up so you could reach his own. The swirled hair at his nape slithered through your fingers when you swept you hand from his abdomen and up his torso. Massive, enveloping hands trailed praise along your body until they were mirrored under your breasts.

Exploring his skin, your fingers took residence over the small of his back, digging red trails along the slick surface. You moaned into Kylo’s mouth when a capable hand claimed your supple chest and kneaded into you. He growled in response, a predatory sound that rippled through your nerves and tightened deep, deep in your belly. The pliant pads of his thumbs circled your nipples, the very tips of his nails flicking upward before he added his forefingers and pinched the sensitive peaks to his will.

Kylo mouthed the hinge of your jaw, the bridge of his nose slipping along the bone until you surrendered your neck to him. He hummed against your artery, sucking away the beaded moisture that’d collected for the past few minutes – or had it been hours? Time evaded you further when the schemes of his tongue at your throat delved deeper, revealed themselves further when he laved at your clavicle, shifting between kissing and biting and marking as he made his way to your breastbone.

His muscled back flexed as your fingers routed to his front, dipping low until you found the haze of soft, wet hair that grew from his pelvis. Kylo continued his endeavors and pulled you in by the curve of your back so he could bare your chest to him and run his nose under the base of your breast. His need for your body was evident in the way he bent you to his will, cradling your back so he could have you, but also permitting a sense of safety in the relentless strength that flowed from his forearms through to your marrow.

Near limp in his hold, you tread your fingers down his pelvis and savored the feel of that patch of hair, feeling his pulse beat beneath it, reveling how water collected and fled in such a slow, teasing manner. His chest was to yours, so you felt, rather than heard, the pleasure vibrate from him, deepening when you grazed the very foundations of his hardening shaft. He breathed into your skin, mouthing at your breast and sucking painful paths as he went. The heat of his mouth melded around your nipple, and he bit, and even when you winced and writhed with satisfied hurt, Kylo kept on; not until you were sure he’d drawn blood did his teeth – their unique ridges now throbbing into your breast – leave you, replaced by the salve of his plush, scorching lips. The body of his tongue was structured with adamant, laving over your pebbled peak until poems of pleasure groaned from the depths of your chest.

He leaned you back up and shifted his attention to the remaining half of your body, but you needed him just as much, and you wanted to litter his body with the same pleasure he’d given yours. So, snaking your hands to his jaw, you kissed the hinge opposite to his scar and pecked harder and longer, sucking at his skin like the blood that bruised would grant you eternal life. Falling to your knees in a steady, unrushed descent, you kissed every inch of his abdomen, every bump and ripple of skin that was present around the mending injury. With eyes peering up, hands cherishing the fronts of his thighs, you tongued the scarred tissue and watched him shutter with ecstasy, eyes half-lolling, mouth slackening for a second before he swallowed down whatever satisfaction would have left him.

You teethed at the soft, raised skin, watching him, content when a guiding hand pet down your slick hair. Shifting to his middle, you hummed from one hip bone to the next, feeling the tickle of hair that fled from his naval and dispersed in an even, thick layer of black atop his pubis. Hunger ravaged your throat and you nuzzled into the soft bed of obsidian hair. A kiss to it, then a nip, and then the tip of your nose swirled around the dark patch, his cock twitching at the side of your face.

Anchoring your eyes to his yet again, you dragged the flat of your tongue through the maintained, drenched hair and pushed both your hands along his inner thighs. The muscles beneath your touch sang, streamed just as fluidly as the droplets that were trickling down your spine. Pulling away from him, you faced his cock and observed how it bobbed with your eyes on it, watched it strain for friction when your hands teased both sides of his base, sifting through the dark curls beneath.

The moonlight painted his shaft with subtle, breathtaking contours – a shadow cast under the spongey ridge of his head, light glinting off the misted moisture that’d caught on his flushed shaft. Each prominent vein cast a winding whisper of darkness just a measure from the next. It hypnotized you, the way they overlapped and crossed at points, bulging out from his cock and shifting with each throbbing pulse of blood that clamored through him.

Curious fingers flitted along the heavy, hot column of flesh, tapping it and listening to the thickening breath from the man watching you through ravenous eyes. A smirk curved your mouth, and you peppered a light, whispered kiss to his slit, pushing his cockhead just so it met your teeth, and leading your lips away so the teasing burned through him. You pulled a hand away from his leg and sat back on your calves, taking a breast into it and kneading as he had before, plucking your nipple through each space between your fingers.

“A teasing little whore tonight,” he purred, voice thick.

You hummed, pleased you were getting to him. “I’m your little nurse, remember?” The tip of your tongue teased circles into his frenulum. “And you are my master. Isn’t that right? Master Ren?” Fuck, the title even got to you, cunt fluttering with the hope to be overflowing with him.

“Good girl, teasing whore, nasty slut? Little nurse? You have so many names now.”

“And all of them belong to you.”

You teased his tip and finally laved a flat tongue on the underside of his shaft, flicking it side to side and gripping into his structured, rippling thighs. Something animal, completely primal, roared in his throat, and sooner than you knew, Kylo Ren had joined you on your knees, the weight of his cock slicking down your middle and slapping up to your slit when inertia bounced through it.

A masterful tongue slipped into your mouth and licked your hard pallet, next dropping down and pushing against the side of your own tongue. A muffled moan – one that you were unsure was his or yours or both – clouded through the shower’s downfall. But then a throat-thick huff, aggressive and impatient, gnarled through the air and you were spun on your knees so your back was flush with his chest.

“Yes,” he rumbled, “they do all belong to me.” A possessive hand pushed you into him with might, taking residence in the valley of your breasts. “Your names, your body. Everything.” His hips canted, and the tip of his cock knocked against your clit, fire billowing in your belly, quicker and deeper now.

“Everything,” you echoed, finding his free hand and guiding it so it lay over the permanence etched into your thigh. “I’m- everything. It’s yours. I am yours.”

Unrelenting digits bruised more marks around the one he’d made prior, and when you felt his cock fall in line with your entrance, you thrust into him as he did the same, and you took all of him, at once, in one, fluid, aching motion. An unabashed cry echoed euphoria throughout the moonlit stall. Before you could fully recover from the first thrust, his hand – the free hand that didn’t remain under your own, clutched to your thigh – dipped into your folds and that blooming fire from earlier mushroomed at the graze of his thick digits against the buzzing nerves.

Thrust after thrust after thrust, fucking into you and filling you to the brim and then some each time, knocking the air from your lungs and burgeoning those sweet spots within with each paced, violent pass. All of that pressure combined with the winding circles and strokes he racked your clit with, you felt the breath of climax rise first in your chest, and then upward into your throat.

Kylo was panting by your ear, sucking the skin behind, clutching you to him so it became uncertain where his body ended and yours began. You hooked your arm above your head and clutched at his drenched tresses, flailing for a better grip and settling on clasping your hand onto the back of his neck.

“I feel you,” he groaned.

“Feel me,” you huffed.

“I know you.”

“know me.”

“You’re mine,” your name was laden with yearning claim, lilting from his tongue so it caressed your mind, body, and soul all in one fell swoop.

“Yours,” you heaved, “all, yours.”

You came. Simple. Body swimming in the schemes his fingers and cock and tongue and voice forced into you until it became too much. A few thrusts more and his pace faltered, cum spurting against your walls and dripping out of you as more and more left him. Full lips pressed fleeting, lulling praise into your nape, your shoulder, until he angled your head to his and branded his lips to yours.

Spent, emotionally and physically, you fell into him and enjoyed the image of his legs framing your own. But then your eyes lolled shut and you simply breathed, settling into this moment as best you could, and tried to memorize the tide of his chest slicking against your back.

Barely aware in the vague, misty stall, you only realized that Kylo had begun cleaning you when he guided you back to your feet to rinse you free of soap. Even then you just leaned into his chest and let the jets spray silken streams down your skin. And then you were wrapped in a heated towel and cradled in his arms, leaving the steamy refresher and coming into the gentle atmosphere within the golden gossamer canopy.

With less than a word, maybe a breath, the light from above waned to nothingness, and the room was black save for the glinting eyes that studied your own. The towel discarded to the floor, you now lay beneath the thick comforter and linen sheets of Kylo Ren’s bed. Both naked, you huddled together in the center of the expansive mattress, legs wrapped together in an impossible knot, each breathing in the other’s warmth.

Ease trickled into your muscles, and you shifted so your forehead could rest in the heat of his chest.

“What changed? From the other night?” you yawned. “What convinced you? About Snoke.”

He was tired, too, you knew, the hand tucking you into him tracing lazy, distracting circles into your back to keep him from sleep. “Perspective, really. Seeing things clearly for the first time in… Seeing things clearly.”

For now, fatigue caressing you, that was an answer you could accept. He’d given you more of his mind tonight than ever before, and you did not care to mar that fact with a half-wit interrogation. Perhaps you would listen to him this time, given how little you potentially had left, and do as he’d said this morning.

Trust me first.

It was sound advice, and not worth questioning on the eve of your first shift on Canto Bight. So you nuzzled into him and giggled when the tip of your nose nudged that black healing ribbon over his collar bone.

“I like your scars,” you hummed.

You could not be certain, sleep plunging you into its riptide, but just before it pulled you under, you swore you heard the fatigued rumble of Kylo Ren’s voice whisper, “I like yours too.”

#keeping your promise #st kyp #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren smut #angst #fluff #ao3 #wattpad

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