#but it turns into a very earnest conversation about what how everything happened between them and how they’ve managed to keep it going | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 3 years

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you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina, to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

#listened to boyfriend by big time rush while writing hahaha #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #fred #fred weasly x reader #sad reader #reader insert #artist reader #fred weasley fluff #sorry for the big blocks of text tumblr has a 250 paragraph limit #why woukd they do that

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frodo-with-glasses · 2 years

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It might just be because it’s 3 AM and I’m emotional but I am still. Not. Freaking. Over this.

“To Sam it seemed as if all the stones were listening and the tall rocks leaning over them”—maybe they are. Maybe the land itself is aching to hear a noise of joy. Maybe Sam’s words have brought something bubbling up in Frodo that’s breaking a centuries- or millennia-long silence, and the very dust under their feet is responding in like kind. Maybe the land itself, remembering the music that created it, remembering the life and song it used to hear, remembering—like a long-faded photograph, like the whisper of a wind gone by, like a smell you recognize but can’t recall what it reminds you of—the tantalizingly familiar ache of a thing you know you ought to know, that you know was once yours, but can’t remember…maybe all the land is yearning for healing, for this thing it’s forgotten even existed, and everything that’s left—every barren rock and stone—leans in close to hear.

Or maybe it’s all in Sam’s head. Maybe that’s just how he feels. Maybe he’s surprised. He was just talking, just shooting the breeze, just running his mouth as he’s done a million times before, usually to poorer effect. He didn’t expect to get much of a reaction from Frodo. He didn’t expect such full and earnest laughter. He definitely didn’t expect the tears that hit the backs of his eyes just listening to it. He wants to lean in. He wants to be absorbed by it, wear it like a badge, drown in it like the sea. He wants to live in this moment forever, knowing that he did that, he did that, he did THAT—somehow his big dumb mouth formed all the right big dumb sounds to ease Frodo’s heart and make him really, honestly laugh in the middle of all this terror and doubt and pain—and not all the crowns and trophies and dragon hoards in the world put together could ever be worth half as much.

Maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s the point, that’s the point, THAT’S the point, that they can’t budge the darkness on every side of them but damn it all they can turn on a light, and that light is a noise, a measly little noise—like the scrambling of a rat on the rocks, like the crumble of dust settling, like the rumble of the earth under their feet—just another sound, bubbling out of the throat of a hobbit, but oh it’s so much more. It’s joy—the joy of being together, the joy of conversation, the joy of “all is dark but I am not alone because you are here”. It’s hope—the hope that there will be life on the other side of this darkness, the hope that they will tell our stories, the hope that we will get home someday. It’s love—it’s that beautiful and mysterious way that two souls connect and interact and intertwine and become so much more than themselves.

And holy crap on a popsicle stick maybe this is why God invented love, because what I am when I’m with you is something so much more than the sum of what we are when we’re apart, and there’s something extra, something more, something beautiful and mystical and spiritual about what happens in-between and outside and inside of us when we’re together, and whatever it is will outlive every speck of dust on this starved and fire-blasted and godforsaken earth because love is a force that existed before the universe was created and it’ll exist long after it’s gone and one little laugh is like plucking the string on a guitar that reverberates across one end of infinity to the other and transcends the misery of where we are into the higher reality of what we always have been, what we are on the inside, AND WHAT WE ALWAYS WILL BE—

This is why Sam insists on cuddles right after this because!! I would too!! I just! I love you!!! I want to be close to you and feel the warmth of your skin and listen to the heartbeat that assures me you’re alive and absorb you into me because you’ve already taken up such a residence in my heart that you are half of me already, and if I can’t make the two of us one singular being, then I want to get as close as I can; let me hold you, let me protect you, let me make you laugh again, because who I am when I’m with you strikes at the core of what I know I was always made to be—

Maybe that’s why the land leans in. Because it’s hearing something both older than its foundations and younger than it will ever feel again, and whatever life is left in those dry, acrid, starving rocks wants to become a part of it too.

Anyway yeah I have. A normal amount of emotions about this.

Not SamFro, only AAAAAAAHHHHH—

#samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #holy cow i actually don’t have words in english anymore guys #these boys make me feel emotions that aren’t even in my brain chemicals anymore #they’re in my SOUL and my BONES #UGH #okay i’m actually done screaming about this now LOL

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jungkxook · 4 years

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—moonstruck. (m)

⟶ pairing: taehyung x reader

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

⟶ words: 7,421

⟶ rating: 18+

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

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

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

“Are you serious right now?”

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

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

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

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

“Am I wrong?” Hoseok refutes.

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

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

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

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jin scoffs. “Or worse.”

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

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

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

“I mean, a wedding.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t have to do this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

“Oh my god.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung…” You whisper.

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

“I want you to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it that obvious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop me if it hurts,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enlighten me.”

“Gladly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So good,” he says. “All mine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So we’re the exception?”

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

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

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

“So the bite…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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hakuoyuki · 3 years

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Hello! Just wanted to say thank you for all the IkePri info you've given us :) I am super curious now about the localisation changes made for the ENG version. It seems like the MC was changed quite a bit from your tags :D. What other changes have you noticed compared to the JP version?

Hello Anon～ Apologies for the delayed reply.

You're welcome! By the way, another ask was also asking me about the localization changes so I shall be answering that here as well.

This is going to be quite extensive with spoilers from various parts (including spoilers from parts of all starter routes) for both ENG and JP versions so I shall share the examples under the cut

To start off, here are the general list of things which I had noticed a change for (as of Sep 16, 2021)

・Route Ending Titles

・MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech (This is one very major change I have noticed. First and foremost, unlike the previously released titles, in IkePri JP each of the suitor’s MC have subtle but very apparent differences to her. It’s a little hard to explain compared to experiencing it but the rough explanation would be as follow:

Leon's MC: Bright & Honest, Daring

Yves' MC: Open-minded & A Hard Worker

Licht's MC: Patient & Active

Jin's MC: Earnest & Lovely

Chevalier's MC: Intelligent & Refined, Thinks and Acts Maturely

Clavis' MC: Have Composure & Tsun (Mega Tsun pre-lovers)

Nokto's MC: Frank & Flexible

Luke's MC: Peaceful & Helpful

Sariel's MC: Elegant & Mischievous

Rio's MC: Pure & Cheerful

You get the picture. Basically, in addition to JP MC being “polite and graceful (to varying degrees depending on which Suitor’s MC)” her personality vary depending on the suitor and this is something that really impresses the JP fandom because it gave her character even more depth, and most importantly, it really shows why the specific suitor fell in love with her. Their chemistry together is just perfect.

However, ENG had changed her personality, reducing all of the above to be the “default ENG MC”. (Think IkeSen ENG’s “Sassy” MC, that’s pretty much what IkePri ENG MC was turned into). (My JP friends who are fluent in English uses the term “impudent” to describe ENG MC after reading the ENG ver). A scene from Leon Chapter 4 avatar story had him describing MC in both versions and the difference between the two was very well highlighted there so I have included that as one of my examples. Additionally, there are way too many instances of this and I simply can not cover everything in full details but I have included selected examples under the cut.)

Nonetheless, sometimes the original personality is kept because of plot-related lines (as described in the next point below) and even for ENG only players, the sudden difference in her speech pattern / behavior is can be clearly seen which sometimes leads to “a little” confusion and inconsistency.

・Conversations / Narrative in Stories (The changes here varies from minor to Major changes in nuances, to sometimes the Whole Context of the line being completely changed into something else entirely, however this mostly only happen to minor details that (1) do not affect major plot points, (2) is not a "plot-moving" scene, (3) does not touch "crucial world building" information. Some examples can be seen under the cut.)

・Suitor’s Personality (During some scenes, which examples can also be seen under the cut, the way some suitor behave or speak have quite a distinguishable difference to their original JP counterparts. Some character had their lines in ENG "toned down” making them sound “tamer”, while some ended up acting a bit more “aggressively” than they did in JP. It is debatable whether to call this “out of character” or “a change in personality that makes JP Suitor and ENG Suitor different from each other (to a certain extent)”. It is however, not something new at all for ENG localization to be changing how ENG Suitors acts such that sometimes they feel like different people (Example: IkeSen Sasuke, IkeRev Dalim))

・Choice Selections within Routes

・Usage of Character Sprites in Routes (So far, there is evidence that in at least one of the starter’s route (Yves’), a scene where a character was shown to be in their full outfit in JP ver, instead had their dressed down sprite used in the ENG ver. Due to spoilers, I will be explaining this scene and which character it was under the cut. P.S. Nokto having his dressed down sprite shown in Leon’s route is Not A Change, the original was made that way.)

・Yves Dramatic (Passionate Love) End Last Premium Story (Parts of the story, especially toward the end of the story had been rewritten from the JP version. The ENG version for this specific story included some very explicit description which Did Not Exist in the JP version. As of now, I do not know if this kind of change was made to his other end’s last premium or other suitor’s “those kind of scenes” too but refers to my earlier point of changes regarding “Conversations / Narrative in Stories” because the same applies here. As an additional note, from what you’ll see in the examples later, these type of changes are not always “made more explicit” since the opposite, “toning down and made tamer” also applies too. *Note: due to the description in ENG being Very Explicit for this story, I will be omitting it from the selections of examples below as my prior explanation had already covered all the details of what was changed.)

・Birthday Story Promotional Image (I do not mean the CG image but the layout of the template used to promote the story sale. For the ENG version, they have removed the story name from image entirely and changed “1st” to “Year 1”. The quotes they chose to use was also changed. Example from Leon 1st Birthday is included below)

・Story Names (Confirmed changes: Both End Clear Story, Birthday Story. The starter routes’ premium and His POV story titles are a direct translation of the JP version. Comparison of the starters both end clear story title and Leon’s 1st Birthday story title can be found below)

・Card/CG Titles (Not all, but many were changed. Mostly to become more concise but some has changes made to the nuances too. The CGs in the “Photos” page kept the original JP names as translated but the same CG found in the “Cards” page has adjustments made to its name in the ENG ver.)

・Card Lines (Similar to the situation with “Card/CG Titles”)

・Login Bonus Line (Similar to the situation with “Card/CG Titles”)

・Suitors' Profiles (Not only were their “A X B” Character Traits changed into a phrase, some of the suitors had their descriptions tweaked a bit too.)

・And on a general note, the way IkePri JP and IkePri ENG handles their promotions on Twitter are also different

[The following bit showcasing the examples after going through side-by-side comparisons will be even more extensive with spoilers from various parts (including spoilers from parts of all starter routes) for both ENG and JP versions so please be forewarned before proceeding]

Exhibit of Examples

Note 1: I may not be sharing all the screenshots due to sharing policies but all comparisons are side-by-side comparisons. Even for routes, I actually sat down and went through both ENG and JP version at the same time for max accuracy.

Note 2: Since we’re focusing on the differences, I’ll be omitting bits that are more or less the same in both (no change in nuance nor context).

Note 3: These are “selected examples” so there certainly are even more changes than what I chose to include here.

ーーーー

[Route Ending Titles]

ENG: Romantic End, Dramatic End

JP: True Love End, Passionate Love End

The ENG localization of IkePri have changed the title names to be like IkeSen / IkeRev / IkeVamp despite their JP end titles being different. As such,

True Love End (JP) = Romantic End (ENG),

Passionate Love End (JP) = Dramatic End (ENG)

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 1 Scene 1 & 2] - (This segments most clearly highlights the changes in “MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech”, “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”, and as a bonus: Rio fans you’ll want to check this out for his line that was lost due to localization.)

ENG

MC: “You wish! This is... actually, wow. This is AMAZING. I bet the whole bookstore could fit in here with room to spare!”

MC: “It’s not “love nest” but it’s “my bedroom”. Uwaah... This is wonderful.”

ー

ENG

Rio: “MC... I’ll always be here for you, no matter what!”

His words had a teasing edge, but I knew he meant it, and as the last of my doubts vanished, I felt a sudden burst of excitement.

Rio: “MC... As thanks how about a hug, or a kiss to my cheeks, orーー”

MC: “Fufu, Rio you’re full of jokes again.”

ー

ENG

Rio: “Sure thing! But if you get lost or you need me, just call my name and I’ll come running!”

After tightly holding onto Rio’s hand, I left the room to explore the palace.

ー

ENG

I’d been so taken by the scenery that it took me a few moments to realize I wasn’t alone.

Leon: “......”

ー

ENG

MC: “Oh! Umー”

MC: “.....!”

ー

ENG

MC: “Do you blame me for looking dazed? This place is huge! I’m going to get lost just trying to find the bathroom! Oh, andー”

MC: “This palace is huge so I was just taking a stroll to figure out where things are. ...More importantly!”

ー

ENG

MC: “Thank you so much for helping us. We’re indebted to you. Would you mind if I asked your name?”

MC: “Thank you very much for helping us. And you are....?”

ー

ENG

MC: “Wellーthanks, Leon. Do you... know that guy? The one on the white horse?”

MC: “Thanks, Leon. .....Is the royalty from earlier an acquaintance of yours?”

ー

ENG

MC: “Do you remember when we first met in town earlier? Why did you make it sound like you barely knew Chevalier?”

Leon: “Because it’s not that far from the truth. I wasn’t kidding when I said we don’t talk much.”

MC: “Okay, I guess I get that, butーI had no idea you were royalty, either. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you in the palace!”

Leon: “Sorry if it felt like I was keeping secrets from you. How about I do something to make up for it?”

MC: “When we met in town, why did you make it sound like Prince Chevalier is just someone you came across before?”

Leon: “I don't really talk to Chevalier much so it's not really wrong to say he's just someone I come across”

MC: “I see.... wait, that's not the point here! I totally didn't think you're also a royalty so it surprised meーー”

Leon: “Sorry for surprising you. Won't you let me apologize for it?”

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 4 Attire Story] - This story included a description for MC as quoted by Leon. This part very clearly shows the personality change in MC of the two versions.

ENG: “Who's smart and sassy and also really sweet”

JP: “Who’s strong-willed, hard working, and serious”

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 5 Choice Selection] - The (+4 +4) choice in this chapter was changed from playful (JP) into serious (ENG). The conversation following the choice selection was also changed however since I’ll be focusing on the change in “Choice Selection” example here, I won’t be sharing the dialogue that followed.

ENG

・I frowned at him.

・I questioned his motives. (+4 +4)

・I sighed and looked away.

・Pretend to be angry

・Tease him back (+4 +4)

・Turn away from him

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 7] - Nokto had one of his line changed in this chapter and this change in ENG, no offense but, it made him sound like he was turned into IkeVamp Arthur. This is an example for changes in “Suitor’s Personality” and “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”. Other than this one line, the rest of Nokto’s dialogue in this chapter was “plot-moving” and contained “crucial world building” information thus his original line was kept as is (which I am personally very glad that they did not changed the rest much because this was my favorite Nokto scene in Leon Route).

ENG

Nokto: “Aww, rejected already! I’m heartbroken.”

Nokto: “Aww, too bad. I got rejected.”

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 9] - Toward the end of the chapter, Nokto had one of his line lost in localization similarly to what happened to Rio in Leon Chapter 1. The examples from this chapter highlights the changes in “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”.

ENG

Nokto: “Don't tell me you and Leon are already...”

MC: “Already what?”

Nokto: “You're a woman. He's a man. And what beast doesn't want to pounce when a pretty little rabbit appears before him?”

Nokto: “Could it be you and Leon are already in that kind of relationship?”

MC: “What kind?”

Nokto: “You know? A guy and a girl together? That kind of relationship. For a rabbit to be in front of a beast like this... It's hard to resist their instinct.”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “This should make up for me not helping you out last night. I don't like owing people things.”

MC: “Nokto, I... okay, thanks!”

I still wasn't sure whether I could trust Nokto, but if he was going to give me this opportunity, I wasn't going to squander it.

(This isn't quite how I wanted it to play out, but I'll take any chance I can get to break the ice with Chevalier.)

Nokto: “With this, I'm making it even for not being able to help you out last night. After all, I don't like being in debt.”

MC: “Nh, thank you, Nokto....!!”

I was so eager to follow along that I didn't caught it when the words....

*“Many things are better left unknown.” ....left from his mouthーー

ー

Note: The bolded sentence here is the bit that was entirely changed across localization. I wanted to highlight this out because (mild spoiler) the phrase “Many things are better left unknown.” is a phrase that later on comes into play again in Nokto’s route and it really emphasizes on the core of his character.

ー

ENG

Nokto: “How did you end up looking like that? I doubt blood just came raining down from the sky to drench you.”

Nokto: “What's with all the blood? And don't joke that it rained blood on your way here.”

ーーーー

[Leon Chapter 19] - This part once again highlights the changes in “MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech”, changes in “Suitor’s Personality” and “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”. During this whole conversation here, the way it played out in ENG and JP pretty much gives off the same message but... both MC’s and Nokto’s personalities just ain’t it when you compare how the conversation turned out in both versions.

ENG

Nokto: “Do you have any idea how many guests are here tonight? I've been smiling and greeting them for so long my cheeks hurt. I deserve a break.”

MC: “Well, when you put it like that...”

Nokto: “You know, we used to hold balls like this all the time, before... recent events. But that means it's the same old same old and I'm bored.”

Nokto: “Oooh, I know.”

(I don't like that glint in your eyes...)

Nokto studied me in the semi-darkness, a mischievous smile playing across his lips, and then he reached out and caught hold of my hand.

Nokto: “Why don't you come back to the ball with me, MC?”

(You have GOT to be kidding me!)

MC: “You know there's people here from Obsidian, right?! I can't just go waltzing into the ballroom! Come on, Nokto, I know you're not stupid.”

Nokto: “I'm not. And that's why I know they're not going to guess who you are just by looking at you.”

Nokto: “Besides, I don't think I can stomach going back in there without something exciting to entertain me.”

Nokto: “But if you can't handle the challenge, I guess I'll have to just sneak off into town andーー”

MC: “You can't do that! This is an important event!”

Nokto: “Then you know what you have to do.”

MC: “All right, fine, but I'm not staying long!”

I scowled at Nokto, but his grin only widened as he twined his fingers firmly with mine and turned towards the doors leading inside.

Nokto: “There's tons of guests tonight, I've been forever handling the reception ever since it started. .....That's why it's about time I take a break”

MC: “.....I see, you worked hard”

Nokto: “Before the king passed away, there's a lot of these kind of balls held at the castle, and there's no unusual face around today either so it's pretty boring”

Nokto: “.........I got an idea”

(.....?)

His thin lips turned into a smirk as if he's plotting something as he firmly grip onto my wrist

Nokto: “Won't you go back to the ball with me, MC?”

(Eh........wha? No, no, no!)

MC: “I can't do that! Tonight there's guests from Obsidian too aren't there!?”

Nokto: “Yeah, and it'll be huge trouble if they find out you're Belle. But, just something like seeing your face won't give you away”

Nokto: “And unless there's some sort of thrills, I can't get myself to head back to the ball”

Nokto: “If you won't accompany me then, I might as well ditch it and just like this, head off somewhereーー”

MC: “Nh, you can't do that!”

Nokto: “Right? Which means you have only 1 option left to take”

MC: “Wah.......!”

While holding onto my hand, Nokto walked off with a jaunty step

ー

ENG

Nokto: “You were pretty when your world was so tiny you'd only read about love in books. But now that actual love has left you heartbroken... You're stunning.”

Nokto: “So stunning I could definitely see myself enjoying a night with you in my arms.”

Nokto: “More so than when all you knew were just the narrow world of love within books, you're much more sensual when you're suffering from love”

Nokto: “......To the point that makes me think I won't mind being your one night stand partner”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “And judging by that expression, I bet you've got a lot to learn in the bedroom.”

Nokto: “If you'd like a few lessons, come by my room one night. I'd be more than happy to show you all sorts of new ways to have fun.”

Nokto: “As far as I can see from that unsophisticated reaction of yours, it seems I still can't expect much from you on the bed though?”

Nokto: “Well, if you want to be trained though feel free to drop by, to my bedroom. It's not like I won't slushily caress and dote on you”

ーーーー

[Chevalier Chapter 3] - This scene shows the changes in “MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech”, and “Suitor’s Personality” that was slightly changed due to the nuance difference in the way the line was said between the two versions. As well as minor changes in “Conversations / Narrative in Stories” from how the dialogue between MC and Nokto turned out to be here.

ENG

MC: “Hey, learn the concept of personal space!”

MC: “...Nh, too close, too close!”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “Your intentions are pure, I see. That's not really my thing, but maybe the other princes will like you for that attitude.”

MC: “Good thing I'm not here to impress you or anyone else.”

Nokto: “Unsophisticated aren't you. This is unsatisfactory for me, but perhaps that kind of attitude might appeal to the other princes.”

MC: “That's not my goal!”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “Ah, yes. I was probably on a date back then.”

Nokto: “Ah, I was busy with dates”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “When I'm finished, how about we have a little fun together?”

Nokto: “When I'm finished, I’ll be your partner?”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “You'll spend time with king highness but not me? At this rate he's going to get ahead of me in terms of your favor.”

Nokto: “Hold on, don't tell me you got closer to him the moment I took my eyes off you?”

MC: “Not exactly, no.”

Nokto: “You'll be King's partner but not mine? Could this be that he had already taken the initiative?”

Nokto: “To think that while I was looking away, you would become this close to King.”

MC: “We're not close though....”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “Lately, there have been rumors that military action is on the horizon.”

MC: “What kind of military action?”

Nokto: “Ooh, I've piqued your curiosity, huh?

Nokto: “Let's see.... How about this? If you join me in bed, I'll tell you all about it.

MC: “No thanks! I'll just ask someone else.”

I jerked my head away from his hand, and he chuckled.

Nokto: “You see, recently there's some fishy rumors floating around.”

MC: “What fishy rumors?”

Nokto: “.....Ooh, you're interested after all?”

Nokto: “Let's see.... If you enjoy yourself together with me in bed then, I won't mind telling you though?”

MC: “Nh, never mind then. I can just ask someone else about it.”

I looked away from him, and he chuckled.

ー

ENG

MC: “Stop playing games with me.”

(I'm really curious about that rumor, but I'm also not buying at the price Nokto is asking!)

MC: “I'll be leaving now.”

MC: “Don't play me.”

(I'm interested in what the rumors is about but, if I ask about it from Nokto that seems like a huge price to pay.)

MC: “I'll be going now alright.”

ー

ENG

Nokto: “He's probably in the library at this time of day.”

MC: “Really?”

Nokto: "And just like that, you owe me one. I realize now that wooing you is going to require real persistence and tactics.”

(I was about to thank you, but when you say that, I'm glad I didn't.)

Nokto: “If King Highness makes you cry, come to me and I'll comfort you.”

MC: “Uh, thanks for the offer, I think?”

Nokto: “If it's around this time, I wonder if he's in the library.”

MC: “Eh?”

Nokto: “With this, you owe me one. Just now I realized the hard selling way seems to work better with you.”

(When you say that it makes me don't want to thank you)

Nokto: “Come to me if King makes you cry. I'll comfort you.”

MC: “T-thanks?”

ーーーー

[Chevalier Chapter 4 Attire Story] - The way the dialogue proceed in this story once again highlights the changes in “MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech” that the localization has brought about.

ENG

MC: “Good morning, Prince Chevalier.”

All I could see was a large, silent, motionless lump under the sheets that didn’t respond to my greeting.

MC: “Umm, wakey wakey, eggs and bakey?”

Still no response.

MC: “Prince Chevalier!”

MC: “Good morning, Prince Chevalier.”

Chevalier: “.....”

MC: “Um, it's time for breakfast but.....”

Chevalier: “.....”

MC: “Prince Chevalier!”

ーーーー

[Chevalier Chapter 5] - This scene also shows the changes in “MC’s Personality / Behavior and Style of Speech”, and “Suitor’s Personality” that was slightly changed due to the nuance difference in the way the line was said between the two versions. All in all, Chevalier in JP really do feel more “sadistic” than in ENG and this scene is just one of the example of that. There is also a distinct difference in MC’s personality in ENG vs in the original JP ver which can also clearly be seen here from the way she reacts to Chevalier telling her to “move”.

ENG

Chevalier: “That was clumsy of you.”

(Ohー)

I found Chevalier standing next to me, looking down at me with those frigid eyes.

MC: “Well, this is awkward....”

Chevalier: “Indeed. And you need to move.”

(I'm fine, thanks for asking! Geez!)

Chevalier: “How clumsy”

(Ah.....)

By the time I realized, Prince Chevalier was standing next to me staring down on me with a cold gaze

MC: “My apologies for the unsightly....”

Chevalier: “It absolutely is. And get out of my way”

(I didn't expect him to worry about me but..... He's unsparing.....)

ーーーー

[Yves Chapter 13] - This is another example for changes in “Suitor’s Personality” and “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”. The punching line ENG Yves here said earned a “What? I beg your pardon?” from me when I read that line because that was a little, if not too much, of a shift in Yves’ personality from the JP Yves I came to know making him uh... more aggressive? Or well, more “impudent” like how ENG MC had also generally became so.

ENG

Yves: “I'm so furious I'd love to go in and punch every single one of them in the face. But I'm hardly the punching type.”

Yves: “So when the banquet is over, meet me in the kitchen.”

MC: “The kitchen? Why?”

Yves: “To blow off steam, obviously, We're going to eat everything I make in the meantime. After all, you're the only one who knows my secret.”

MC: “I'd love to help! I promise I'll be there, and we'll eat everything in sight!”

Yves: “So much that I want to go and raid the banquet right away. But it's not like I can do that, right?”

Yves: “That's why, then the banquet is safely over, let's gather in the kitchen”

MC: “Kitchen.....?”

Yves: “Come join me as I binge eat to release off my stress, MC. The only one who knows about this secret of mine is you so...”

MC: “Uh...of course! I'll join you and eat a lot too, I promise!”

ーーーー

[Yves Chapter 17] - The ENG version of Yves Chapter 17 includes Licht’s dressed down sprite that does on exist in this route in the JP version. In the JP version, it wasn’t until late October 2020 (almost 4 months after release) that Licht’s dressed down sprite was first revealed before his route release in November 2020. In the JP ver, other than the starters and Nokto whose route was slated for release 1.5 month after the release of IkePri JP, all other characters did not have their dressed down sprite shown in any of the starters’ routes at all. (Rio casual outfit from the prologue is another exception).

Note: Screenshot from the left is from a Yves Chapter 17 in JP ver at the beginning of July 2021 (there were no changes made to it from its release a year prior), Screenshot on the right is from Yves Chapter 17 in ENG ver on September 1, 2021.

ENG

Licht: “You don’t need to be so nervous. I don’t care much about you one way or the other.”

Licht: “.....You don't have to be that cautious. It's not like I like you or hate you”

ーーーー

[Yves Chapter 19] - And again, another highlight on the changes in “Suitor’s Personality” and “Conversations / Narrative in Stories”. This time it’s Klein Twin’s interaction and how the way their conversation played out in ENG delivered the scene so differently from JP in terms of mood and tone and the emphasis made on what is being said.

ENG

Nokto: “Well, handing Evie over to Obsidian might actually be a good idea. Although on wrong move and he'll be dead.”

Licht: “....Nokto.”

Nokto: “Stop glaring at me like that. I'm just telling it like it is. It's not like they actually care about Evie.”

Nokto: “Besides, Evie's so naturally unlucky I wouldn't be surprised if God himself abandoned him. It's more likely he'llー”

Licht's chair hit the floor with a sudden crash as he rocketed to his feet and stormed over to Nokto, grabbing him by the collar.

Licht: “Can't you event tell the difference between what to say and what not to say?”

Nokto: “Not really.”

Nokto: “Handing Yves-chan over to them might be a relatively good plan though? But just a single wrong step could end up getting him killed”

Licht: “.........Nokto?”

Nokto: “What's with that scary face. It's the truth isn't it? It's not like that side think of Yves-chan preciously either.”

Nokto: “More over, Yves-chan himself got such god forsaken level of unluckiness doesn't he. The chances of being saved isーー”

A loud thud resounded as Licht stood up. Closing the distance between them, he glared at Nokto.

Licht: “......Can't you distinguish between what's good and bad to say?”

Nokto: “Perhaps”

ー

Note: The bolded sentence here is the bit that completely changed the twin’s characterization between versions. There is such a major difference in nuance in what Nokto said as well.

"Literally" translated, the line in JP would end up as

“More over, Yves-chan himself got such level of unluckiness that seems like even god had forsaken him doesn't he. The chances of being saved isーー”

The original JP line on the “god abandoning” was emphasized on his level of unluckiness

Whereas, in ENG they’ve instead emphasized on “god himself abandoned Yves”

As you can see here, these two means completely different things.

Additionally, the way Licht treated Nokto in ENG here is something Klein twins absolutely wouldn't do to each other had this been their original JP persona.

ーーーー

[Birthday Story Promotional Image]

As you can see from the pic below, the ENG version changed “1st” to “Year 1” and removed the story title from below the year indicator. This was what also gave me the feeling that perhaps they changed the story’s title too anddd... they did.

(Quote change)

ENG: “You move my heart so much it’s almost absurd.”

JP: “Being with you.... I feel alive”

(Story Title change)

ENG: Only You

JP: It's Fine if You're the Only One Who Knows

ーーーー

[Leon Both End Clear Story Title]

ENG: The Blue Sky

JP: The Farthest Corners of the the Blue Sky

ーーーー

[Chevalier Both End Clear Story Title]

ENG: Our Kingdom

JP: The Country Loved by my Beloved Woman.....

ーーーー

[Yves Both End Clear Story Title]

ENG: Happily Ever After

JP: The Tale of Endless Misfortunes and Happiness

ーーーー

[Leon 2nd Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): Lost in Skies of Blue

ENG (Photos): A Childish Wish Lost in Skies of Blue

JP: Young Wishes Dissolves into the Blue Sky

ーーーー

[Chevalier 2nd Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): The Flower in My Heart

ENG (Photos): The Flower in My Heart Blooms Again

JP: The Whereabouts of the Flower that Bloomed Again is.....

ーーーー

*[Chevalier Romantic End Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): The One Flower

ENG (Photos): The One Flower the King Loves

JP: The One Flower the King Loves

ーーーー

*[Chevalier Dramatic End Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): A Beloved Flower

ENG (Photos): A Beloved Flower in His Hands

JP: The Beloved Flower is in His Hands

ーーーー

*[Yves 2nd Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): Someone Else

ENG (Photos): Someone That’s Not Me

JP: Someone That’s Not Me

ーーーー

*[Yves Dramatic End Route CG Title]

ENG (Cards): Curse

ENG (Photos): Lifting the Curse

JP: Lifting the Curse

ーーーー

[Card Titles]

Leon 5 Star - ENG: Just a Beast

Leon 5 Star - JP: I'm a Craving Beast Thirsting For You

ー

Yves 5 Star - ENG: Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

Yves 5 Star - JP: Maybe I’m Just Acting Like a Cat in Front of You?

ー

Licht 5 Star - ENG: Wolf’s Den

Licht 5 Star - JP: To Be Jumping Into a Wolf's Bosom

ー

Jin 5 Star - ENG: In Other Words

Jin 5 Star - JP: In Other Words, I'm Not Letting You Escape Got It?

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Rio 5 Star - ENG: Beast Right Here

Rio 5 Star - JP: There's Other Beast Here Too Aren't There〜. Yep, Right Here

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4 Stars - ENG: [.....] Prince

4 Stars - JP: Rhodolite’s [.....] Prince

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Nokto 4 Star - ENG: Ready?

Nokto 4 Star - JP: My Sword isn't Just for Show

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Rio 4 Star - ENG: I’ll Protect You 24/7

Rio 4 Star - JP: I’ll Be By Your Side Protecting You 24 Hours 365 Days

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3 Stars - ENG: [Name]’s Hobby

3 Stars - JP: His Hobby

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Nokto 3 Star - ENG: Younger Brother

Nokto 3 Star - JP: I’m Not Like the Younger Brother You Say?

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Licht 3 Star - ENG: Keep Your Distance

Licht 3 Star - JP: Don’t Involve Yourself with Me

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Rio 3 Star - ENG: Your Loyal Attendant

Rio 3 Star - JP: Loyal Dog Butler

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[Card Lines]

Nokto 5 Star - Don’t Run Away

ENG Line 1: “You shouldn’t run away from me. It’s instinct to go after running prey. See? I caught you.

JP Line 1: “No running away~ You see, wanting to catch a prey that's trying to escape is the nature of a man and a beast..... Hey, I caught you.”

ENG Line 2: “Hmm? You’re going to resist? You really know how to turn a beast on. I won’t be able to play nice at this rate.”

JP Line 2: “Hmm? You're resisting? You really know how to agitate a beast don't you. At this rate, I won't be able to be gentle though?”

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Nokto 5 Star’s Evening Line

ENG: “Good work. If you're tired, you wanna lean against me and take a break? Ah, but if you do that, I might end up kissing you.”

JP: “Good job. If you're tired you can rest against my shoulder if you want? Ah... but if you act that spoiled I might end up ravishing you though~”

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Nokto 5 Star’s Night Line

ENG: “Good night. ....If you want something, say it. If you do, I’ll take you as mine.”

JP: “Good night. ....If you're expecting something then properly explain it to me in words. If you say it precisely then I'll eat you.”

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Nokto 5 Star’s Morning Line

ENG: “Morning. You know it’s really alluring to see people disheveled after sleeping. ...What was I trying to do? Exactly what you were imagining.”

JP: “Good morning. Seeing your disheveled figure upon waking up is such a turn on. ....What am I about to do? Exactly what you're thinking I'm going to.”

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Nokto 4 Star - Ready? (ENG) / My Sword isn't Just for Show (JP)

ENG: “I'm actually better at battling with wits, but there's nothing else I can do except to use a sword against those who can't understand simple words. Ready?”

JP: “I'm actually much better at a battle of wits. But against someone who words doesn't go through, there's no other option but to slash them down. You see, my sword isn't just for show.”

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Nokto 3 Star’s Night Line

ENG: “Isn't it about time you went to bed? Of course, if you're in the mood, I could join you there...”

JP: “Are you about to head back to your bedroom? Ah, if you feel like it... how about I pretend to escort you back only to have my way with you?”

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Clavis 3 Star’s Night Line

ENG: “Goodnight. Keep the bed warm for me, won't you? Haha, I'm just joking. This time, anyway.”

JP: “Goodnight. Beware of a sneak visit to make love. ......Hahahah, just kidding. For now”

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Nokto 2 Star’s Night Line

ENG: “Hmm? Are you trying to stifle a yawn there? Ahaha, you could just go to bed, you know.”

JP: “What's this~ you're stifling a yawn. Ahahah, you're all teary eyed, how cute~”

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[Nokto’s Login Bonus Line]

ENG: “Got you. Let’s have some fun.”

JP: “Caught you. I was thinking how I want to play with you.”

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[Suitors’ Profile]

Chevalier’s Profile Description

ENG: The prince who will use any means to achieve his goals, even if it stains his coat red with blood. Not many dare to approach this heartless beast, but will you? Can you turn this beast back into a human?

JP: Feared as the beast among the beasts, the ruthless and cruel 2nd Prince. For the sake of his goal he will use any means to achieve that and his blood drenched figure is frequently witnessed. He's an unapproachable existence but he holds an unexpected secret.....?

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Nokto’s Profile Description

ENG: Licht's younger twin brother and a complete flirt, but he's clever enough to outwit just about anybody. You notice that his flippant behavior just comes from trying to hide scars that run deep. Will you be the one to heal those scars?

JP: The 7th Prince, Licht's younger twin brother. He's quick witted and is proficient in socializing but his womanizing tendencies makes him an enemy of women. His skillful seductions made you stand on guard however, contrary to his frivolousness he holds a sublime past.....?

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Licht’s Profile Description

ENG: Nokto's twin older brother and is as cold as ice. He hates being with people and is most often by himself. But when you find that he's kind, you hear about his shocking past that forced this gentle prince to put up so many walls. Will you be able to break these walls down?

JP: The 6th Prince, Nokto's older twin brother. He hates interacting with other people, be it in the palace or on the battlefield, he often try to be left alone. Behind his cold demeanor is an event which caused the kind young boy to be changed into a lonesome beast.....?

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Leon’s Character Traits

ENG: The Charismatic Hero

JP: Fearless x Ore-sama

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Chevalier’s Character Traits

ENG: The Cold Beast

JP: Dangerous x Sadist

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Yves’ Character Traits

ENG: The Star-Crossed Prince

JP: Unlucky x Tough-Acting Tsundere

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Nokto’s Character Traits

ENG: The Suave Playboy

JP: Clown x Playboy

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Licht’s Character Traits

ENG: The Soft-Hearted Loner

JP: Hates Human x Kuudere

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Clavis’ Character Traits

ENG: The Unreadable Troublemaker

JP: Mysterious x Audacious

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Jin’s Character Traits

ENG: The Sexy Ladies' Man

JP: Incongruous Adult x Sinful Womanizer

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Luke’s Character Traits

ENG: The Indolent Charmer

JP: Lazy x Charlatan

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Sariel’s Character Traits

ENG: The Smiling Devil

JP: Fiend x Resourceful

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Rio’s Character Traits

ENG: The Devoted Butler

JP: Blind Love x Freedom

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Last words: There’s certainly more than I’ve just shared above but it’s impossible to cover all the changes. Furthermore, I have no idea how much more or less they’ll be changing but... seeing how much they’ve changed thus far...... Yep, the JP ver is my home 😂.

I hope everyone enjoys the English localization version tho! Everyone have their preferences :D

#ikepri #ikemen prince #イケメン王子 #cybird #ikemen series #cybird ikemen series #asks #i tried to keep this concise but...#localization changes #ikepri jp #ikepri eng #i beg ikepri eng pls keep nokto's mc the way she is in jp ver and please don't mess around with his character when his eng route comes out #i really really relate to nokto's jp mc A LOT #if her character gets changed like it's been getting changed so far i doubt i can get myself to read nokto's eng route #and also nokto is not like arthur #they may be similar in some ways but no they are not the same #ikepri eng don't just go around changing his character like that one line in leon ch 7 that's just not cool #so far no changes are made to the PLOT tho so that is very very good #the bottom line is the overall plot remains the same as jp so yayy :D

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could do some Romano + Prussia x royal reader (separate) headcannons? I'm a sucker for a good forbidden romance and would be happy to see what you want to do with it. Thank you!

Yes, of course! Sorry for the kinda late response--I got carried away writing other things. What a coincidence that I've been doing a lot of exploring in fantasy! The reader is referred to as she/her.

Forbidden Romance Headcanons - Prussia and S. Italy

Prussia - The earnest pickpocket and sheltered princess

Unfortunately, Gilbert is on the wrong side of history. As an albino, he's been an outcast ever since he was born. In an age of superstition and class divide, his parents had no problem abandoning an extra mouth to feed. Especially when they were a demon with magical powers. Left to fend for himself as a baby, he only ever survived thanks to the generosity of an old neighbor. When they passed away due to old age, he had to get on by himself on the streets. Stealing, lying, whatever it takes to get some quick cash. And he's been doing it ever since he was five.

He loved fairytales ever since he was a kid. His guardian always told him these stories before bedtime, after all. They said it was good luck to give the princess a flower, and he remembered this a few years later during the royal parade in town. Pushing through the crowd of onlookers, he held out a small dandelion hoping you would take it. Before the guards could swat him away, you took the flower with a smile. All you remembered from that time was a small and dirty face gleaming up at you. And, of course, a pair of striking red eyes you would never forget.

In his adolescence, he became a thief with quick hands. It wasn't until he took on the most dangerous job of all did he make himself a public enemy. Stealing the royal family's jewels. And he would've gotten away with it if he wasn't forced to take a detour through the princess's bedroom. Unbeknownst to him, you were wide awake. Immediately, you recognized him as the little boy from that day. Without thinking, you hid him in your wardrobe until the guards left. That was the start of a strange friendship forged between two people from two worlds--a dirt-poor criminal and the well-loved princess of a thriving kingdom.

He visits you from time to time by climbing up the side of the castle. When he first did it, you practically throttled him by his collar, screaming, “Do you have a death wish? They'll throw you to the lions if you get caught!”. He simply responds with, “The awesome me never gets caught! That's why I'm here, ja?” Soon, this becomes routine until you learn to trust him.

Gilbert loves gloating about his adventures as a street rat, whether it's about singlehandedly beating up gangs of bullies or outrunning the palace guards. As a sheltered person of royalty, his stories reflect experiences alien to you. But it opens your eyes to things you've never seen, and it's very fascinating.

If he's not telling grossly exaggerated anecdotes of his greatness, he'll bring in board games and cards he “borrowed” from his friends. You've never played with them before as your parents deemed them unrefined. It fills him with pride to see you enjoying yourself so much, especially when he's teaching you how to play.

You don't go out very often, so he always brings back little trinkets and souvenirs. When you found out he stole them all, you would hit him on the head and tell him off. “Where did you get these from? Stealing and giving these to the princess--do you know how stupid that sounds?” Then, you would pinch his cheek until he tears up and admits his wrongs. “I-I thought you would like them, okay? I wanted to give them to you as a present...” The next day, you would accompany him to the shops he robbed and pay the owners back.

He gets upset and embarrassed when he realizes those gifts aren't gifts at all. Not when you paid for them yourself! One of the ways he shows affection is through giving gifts, but that unfortunately clashes with not having money. So he's eager to make something out of himself, even if he has to work as a bottom feeder and face unfair treatment for what he looks like. When you find out, his boss gets one hell of a time dealing with you. After that, he uses whatever small amount he earned to buy something for you.

As he grows out of his old habits, he becomes more honest. In fact, he's so determined to prove himself that he shows up one day with a homemade board game scribbled out on a spare piece of parchment. He's nervous and twiddling his fingers, and that's when you know you have to help him get back onto his feet. He's so touched by your kindness that he shows you a secret he's been hiding forever--he can do magic. It's one of his skills that let him become so good at stealing in the past.

After some practice to touch up his abilities, you try convincing your parents to let him work in the palace as an all-rounder. With the magic dancing in his fingertips, there's nothing he can't do. He has a green thumb, good reflexes, and the horses in the stables listen to him better than the caretaker! He can't forget that you encouraged him to let go of his doubts and previous identity as a petty thief. There's nobody in the world he looks up to more.

On the night of your eighteenth birthday, he's invited to a ball to celebrate. Once again, he finds himself anxious to see you in your dress, especially when he's quite glammed up himself with his suit and hair slicked back. While you teach him how to dance, he tells you he looks ridiculous. But you think otherwise and make it explicit. That's when Gilbert realizes he's completely smitten with you. He embarks on another journey to improve himself until he thinks he deserves you.

South Italy - The plebeian pâtissier and renegade royal

War has ravaged the kingdom and eaten into the state's reserves, leaving inflation rates at an all-time high. The suffering middle and working-class take it up to their rulers in a coup d'état, killing the king and queen. And now, they're searching for the princess amidst the chaos of an ungoverned dominion. Romano couldn't be more indifferent to such a cause, only ever caring about putting food on the table. He works day and night helping out his family's bakery, making what he can to get by. However, he's forced to take a side when he finds a girl on his doorstep on the verge of starvation.

Unable to turn away someone in need, he nurses you back to health. However, he does so with spite, wondering to himself why he has to give what little he has left to a princess. When you feel better after a few days, he's eager to send you off but changes his mind as you leave. Romano can't bear to let you face certain death, or worse, knowing how bitter the townspeople are about the unpopular war. So he welcomes you back with a sharp sigh with his head turned away. “Alright, alright, you can stay. Now stop making that pathetic face, you spoilt principessa--it's depressing.”

He relays a few house rules as conditions for keeping you around. You have to help him with chores. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, everything. Considering you always had someone doing those tasks for you, you're hopeless at it. He'll swat your hand and show you how to do things right with an annoyed scowl. “No, no, no, no, no! You're doing it all wrong. This is how you do it. What do they even teach you in that palace, huh? Books? Maths? Books about maths? Well, they won't keep you alive, you know!”

Because he's so observant and strict, he's a good teacher, and soon, you get the hang of everything. Before, he had to open his mouth to correct you every few seconds, but now, he can just watch you do his work with his arms crossed. It's a little demeaning to have someone watch your every move, but inside, he's relieved you're finally fitting in and not a complete waste of his time and resources. In reality, he never wanted to send you off and hoped he could just handle an extra mouth to feed. Not that he'll ever tell you.

When you're out and about, he makes you wear a cloak to hide your identity. When he's forced to interact with people, he'll hold you close and play everything off without arousing suspicion. Even if your hood falls off, he won't react--he's screaming inside in panic, but he's a great actor when he needs to be. You're totally not the princess, just a crazy similar doppelganger. The cloak is there so that people don't make a fuss. When they leave, he'll turn to you and scream how much of an idiot you are. But really, he was just worried to death--and you have a feeling he was. So you hug it out and leave him cussing with a red face.

As you two grow closer, his cousin Antonio notices how much he cares about you despite his efforts to hide it. It's a problem. He approaches him and warns that if people found out he was hiding the princess, he would get killed with her. Romano heats up and screams, telling him that he already knew what he got into the second he let you into his home. When he's asked why he's still keeping you around, he responds with, “It's not fair that her parents fucked up, and she has to face the consequences. Just like how I never wanted to run this stupid bakery--I wanted to be a painter, not burn my hands in the kitchen all day!”

Unbeknownst to him, you overhear the conversation. The next morning, he discovers that you're gone and loses his head. While he's screaming and crying, he's swarmed with the possibilities of what happened to you. He's a bit of an overthinker, but his paranoia is deserved--were you taken away in the middle of the night? Are you even still alive? He spirals down a path of self-loathing until he confronts how much he misses you, then his regret of never being frank with his feelings. Romano didn't understand what he had until he lost it. To say this was a wake-up call--to be more honest with himself--would be an understatement.

A week later, you return unscathed. Turns out, you left to stay with the owner of a paint shop owner your family always supported and bought from. You present him with a gift of some high-end oil paints, brushes, and canvases. When he sets them all down, he'll pull you into a tight hug, and once again, tell you how stupid you are. While he has you in his coils, you smile to yourself as you pat his hair, happy that you also got something in return. Some transparency. “I just thought I'd give you something... For all the trouble.” You'd say, and he'd shush you with a few hard kisses. “You were never a trouble. I wanted you to stay, so I'm more to blame than you.”

As the political situation of the country calms down, so do the anxieties of angry neighbors pounding on his door. You return to his home much to his content. Now that you're just as good as him at icing cakes, you spend more time running the bakery. This gives him some time to paint, and he can't be happier. Once you both get settled, he discovers another hobby on top of making art. Making coffee! The bakery evolves into a café lavishly decorated with his paintings, and it becomes the most popular establishment in town. You both realize how overrated it is to want to be anything more--you never bring up your title ever again.

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musical-shit-show · 3 years

Text

could have danced all night

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader Inspiration: Prompts #2 (“apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”) #14 (“when i’m not with you, it’s almost like…i can’t breathe.”) and #41 (“i may or may not have left some…marks.”) Warnings: sexual references, kissing, meddling siblings, fluffy fluff Word Count: 3,733 Author’s Note: This is my first request! Big shout out to @acmbooksandfilm for sending this in, I had a lot of fun writing it. Also, apologies on it taking a bit to get out, writing has gotten difficult as my real adult job has slowly turned my brain to mush. But, if you would still like to send in a request, feel free! My DMs and Askbox is always open, even though it may take a little longer to complete requests. And as always, check out my Masterlist, About Me page, and Prompt Lists. Thanks for all the love on my other one shots and enjoy!

“Colin, enough,” Benedict huffed as he threw on his shiny black tailcoat, “Surely you have better things to do than pester me about my love life.” Anthony, Benedict, and Colin often crossed paths when getting ready for the numerous events of the season, and now the younger Bridgerton brother was doing everything to get on his elder sibling’s last nerve.

“I’m merely pointing out the obvious, Benedict,” Colin said smugly, straightening his cravat as he looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t help but flash a mischievous smile at his reflection, “Practically everyone in the ton knows about you two, what’s the harm in proposing?”

“What on God’s green earth are you two talking about?” Anthony strode into the room, closing the door in the likely event that Colin said something inappropriate and scandalized one of their younger sisters or, heaven forbid, their mother.

Benedict couldn’t help but flush. Yes, he was close enough with his brothers to discuss all matters surrounding women, but it felt wrong for him to talk about you. Especially when your relationship wasn’t meant to be any sort of relationship whatsoever.

It had started out innocently enough; you had been close with his younger sister Eloise and Penelope Featherington for years, acting as surrogate older sister on account of you being several years older than them. You were also friendly with Daphne and Simon Bassett, and often had tea with the pair when they weren’t off performing their duties as the Duke and Duchess of Hastings.

In truth, you knew Benedict the least out of the Bridgertons who had or were close to coming of age, and was shocked when he requested to have his name written on your dance card at the first ball of the season. When it came time to dance, you had expected Benedict to act shy at first; but after some coaxing from you, he won you over almost instantly with his wit and humor.

He only asked to dance with you once more at that particular event, not wanting to be improper. However, it was clear from the way the two of you looked at each other that there was a spark.

“No one,” Benedict said, almost too quickly, “Our brother is just sticking his nose into affairs that aren’t his own, as usual.” Anthony rolled his eyes, thoroughly unamused by his younger siblings’ bickering. The three of them strode down the stairs of their home and seized a carriage so that the conversation could continue in private.

“So…” Colin drawled, “It is an affair, then?”

“You know that’s not what I meant at all.”

“A slip of the tongue, perhaps? You know, brother, you must choose your words more carefully��"

“Mark my words, Colin Bridgerton; I will kill you in this very carriage if—”

“Will the two of you, please,” Anthony huffed, feeling a migraine coming on, “Benedict, is this about who I think it is about…?” Colin nodded fervently, but Benedict remained stone-faced. He hated keeping things from his family, especially his brothers. But he couldn’t risk tarnishing your name, not after what had transpired between you two.

It wasn’t meant to happen. When Benedict had snuck off one night to another one of Sir Granville’s soirées, he was shocked to see you there, wearing a tightly-laced corset, undergarments, and practically nothing else. As soon as you saw him, your eyes widened to the size of your mother’s best teacup saucers. Without thinking, you grabbed him and pulled him into the nearest empty room.

“Benedict, wha—what are you doing here?!” he remembered you asking him, utterly flustered. His eyes drifted to the sheer robe draped over your shoulders, the fabric floating gently with your every movement.

“I could very well ask you the same question!” he attempted to whisper, now distracted by how your corset pushed up your bosom considerably, “How do you even know about these, um, parties?” For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of what to say as Benedict’s pale blue eyes bore into yours.

You sighed, resigning to come clean, “Genevieve—Madame Delacroix—she told me about them. I confided in her about my father’s money troubles,” you felt the tears start to well up, but could not bear to cry in front of Benedict in the state you found yourself in, “I barely have any money for a dowry to find a suitable husband, and Genevieve and Sir Granville are familiar so…I work when I can and just make the guests feel comfortable—you know, offer them drinks, tobacco, the like—but I provide nothing more than hospitality.”

You felt that you needed to make that distinction to Benedict. Though you suspected that any chance with him was gone now that he had discovered your secret, you wanted to at least maintain part of your reputation, “Granville is generous enough and I could not be more grateful,” you continued, pulling the nearly translucent robe tightly around your body, “And these parties are so secretive that I thought, perhaps, I could scrounge enough money together before the end of the season before I was discovered. Clearly not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh dryly, but Benedict stared at you, his expression earnest, “You need not worry about that,” he breathed, “I won’t tell a soul.” You absentmindedly bit your bottom lip, chewing nervously on a bit of broken skin. Could he really be trusted? Yes, you had crossed paths over the last few weeks, exchanging pleasantries and the occasional flirtatious glance, but would Benedict be able to keep your secret?

“Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton,” you replied coyly, deciding that you didn’t have a choice in the matter, “Perhaps I will be able to repay you one day.” A sly smile spread across Benedict’s face, his eyes flickering to the locked door. Though the party was continuing on the other side, you two had remained virtually undisturbed.

Feeling bold, he traced his fingers over your collarbone, instantly sending a chill down your spine, “Perhaps…you could repay me now?” he posited, trying his best not to sound like a complete and utter rake, “Only if you wish to, of course.” Despite your best efforts, you could feel a palpable spark that had been building between the two of you over the past few weeks. And you had grown tired of restraining your impulses any longer.

Gently, you placed a soft kiss on his lips. Your eyes fluttered shut and Benedict cupped your face with his hand, his grip surprisingly tender. His free arm wrapped around your body smoothly, pulling you flush against him. You frantically thought through the consequences of someone discovering you with a Bridgerton, but you were too preoccupied with removing Benedict’s clothing to pay much mind…

“Benedict!” Anthony snapped his younger brother out of his reverie as the carriage slowed to a stop, “Would you get your head out of the clouds and tell me what’s going on?” Benedict stared at him, utterly panic stricken. He had kept your secret for nearly a month now, and during that time the two of you had gotten even closer, both in the eyes of the ton and after nightfall in your bedchamber.

Benedict’s mind almost drifted to the night he had shared with you only hours before, but focused on the task at hand, “You needn’t worry your pretty little head, brother,” he said coolly, “I have it all under control.” Anthony looked as if he were going to be sick, and Colin smiled with devilish glee. The three brothers clamored out of the carriage and made their way into the bustling ballroom, more of their family trailing close behind.

Benedict could hear Eloise whine as Lady Bridgerton attempted to smooth down her hair, and he felt a small pang of guilt for not coming to his sister’s aid against their mother’s incessant prodding. But now, he had more pressing matters at hand; namely, what in the hell he was going to say to you now that his brothers were onto him.

He spotted you from across the hall, his heart fluttering with every step he took in your direction. He noticed that you were wearing an intricately laced shawl that was tied tightly across your chest, completely covering your collarbone and much of your breast. Benedict felt himself frown slightly, then immediately scold himself for being improper at a society function; surely, you need not show your bosom to the entire ton in order to draw the eye of him and a number of other suitors.

You were conversing with Penelope and Lady Featherington when he finally approached you, eyes wide with fear, “Hello,” he said politely, giving a slight nod to Penelope and her mother, “Is there a spot open for my name on your card?” You quirked an eyebrow, giving him a smirk as you removed the card from your wrist.

“Why of course, Mr. Bridgerton,” you replied in an equally cordial manner. Heaven forbid Portia Featherington get a whiff of your affair; you’d be certain your name would be splashed across Lady Whistledown’s pamphlet before you’d wake the next morning, “In fact, you are the first gentleman to ask, so you may have the first dance. If you are not otherwise engaged, that is.” He shook his head and his eyes gleamed as he returned your card to your delicately gloved hand.

Despite his anxiety being astronomically high, Benedict was delighted that he was able to dance with you so early in the evening. He always thought of you as a fluid dancer, light on your feet as the two of you would glide across the ballroom. He often found himself not being able to take his eyes off you, the lively music and judgmental crowd fading away the moment he embraced you.

More importantly, he wanted to speak to you about the precarious situation you found yourselves in. It was only a matter of time until either Anthony or Colin pried the truth out of him, and he wouldn’t let the news spread across all of London society, besmirching your good name. He cared about you too much to allow such a wretched thing to happen.

A few moments later, all of the couples were signaled that the first dance was to begin. Benedict shot a glance to Colin, who had been talking Anthony’s ear off since they arrived. Now, the two of them were staring him down, whispering like schoolboys. He refrained from scoffing and instead took your hand gently, pulling you into his tall frame as the music began.

You instantly noticed the nervous and almost pained expression splashed across Benedict’s face, and you furrowed your brow in worry. However, you decided your best course of action was to try and alleviate the tension he must’ve been feeling, “I see you haven’t taken a liking to my shawl,” you remarked, a sly smile dancing on your lips, “I will have to tell my sister she has dreadful taste.”

Benedict ripped his eyes from his brothers’ stares and produced a small chuckle at your teasing. He realized he’d much rather converse with you than worry about what Anthony and Colin were up to, “No, it’s uh—it is, quite lovely,” he countered, lowering his voice, “Though I would prefer to see more of you, of course.” You raised an eyebrow, impressed by his boldness.

“I believe you saw plenty last night, Mr. Bridgerton,” you posited, weaponizing his own name against him, “In fact, I suppose you could blame yourself for my more…conservative attire, wouldn’t you agree?”

Benedict couldn’t help but flush, but cleared his throat to attempt to keep up with your rather scandalous banter, “Yes, well…I suppose…” he stuttered, “I may or may not have left some…marks.” He spun you, watching as your dress moved gracefully around your body and fluttered behind you as you gripped his arm once more.

You searched the panicked expression on his face. Surely, he only knew you were teasing, so why did he look like he was on the brink of sickness? “Benedict, why are you acting so strange?” you asked, attempting to keep the mood light while searching for information, “You’re not falling in love with me, are you?”

Benedict swallowed, attempting to maintain his composure. Besides the looming threat of every affluent family in Mayfair uncovering your secret, he was also painfully aware of how nervous you had been making him over the past weeks. The way your smile lit up every room, the way your eyes sparkled playfully, the way your laugh made his heart do a somersault.

“It’s just as well,” you continued, not waiting for him to answer your rhetorical question, “I overheard Colin and Pen whispering earlier, and Simon and Daphne as well. Apparently, all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.” He sighed, a little relieved that you had caught onto his family’s shenanigans before he worried you unnecessarily. He couldn’t help but appreciate your perceptive nature.

“Believe me, Colin and Daphne may be my siblings, but they are not my friends right now,” he joked nervously, only half-kidding, “And Anthony is on dangerously thin ice. It appears my family can’t help but get involved in matters that do not concern them.” You giggled, causing Benedict’s heart to swell. He was growing more infatuated with you by the second.

“I wish my family cared half as much as yours does,” you say, a twinge of sadness in your voice, “They are all so wonderful, and I’m sure they are just being protective.” Benedict nodded, heartened by the kindness and understanding you were showing to his siblings. You already got along quite well with Eloise and Daphne, and you were always courteous to his mother while still being able to hold your own when conversing with Anthony or Colin.

As the dance came to an end, Benedict had begun to realize his affection for you. Not just physically; yes, your first encounter at Sir Granville’s had brought you two together faster than he had ever expected. It was reckless, intimate, and completely wonderful, but getting to know you, without dozens of uppity members of high society leering at your every move, was more valuable than any nights you had spent together.

And he decided in that moment, as your hand released from his and you both bowed respectfully, that he could not bear to spend one more day without you by his side. But he could not profess his love in front of God and everyone, least of all his family; he quickly surmised that he must wait until a moment presented itself.

You were quickly whisked away by your mother, unable to even say a proper thank you and goodbye. But as your eyes met his blue ones, you couldn’t help but notice how they were sparkling in the candlelight, and you felt a twinge of melancholy. You cared for Benedict, but feared it was only a matter of time before your affair ended and he was married to another disgustingly wealthy aristocrat. You gave him a fleeting smile before getting dragged to the other side of the ballroom.

As you turned away from him, Benedict felt two hands grasping each of his arms, one hand belonging to each of his meddling brothers, “I knew it!” Colin whisper-yelled as he and Anthony pulled their love-struck sibling into a secluded corner of the lavish hall, “You know, you really aren’t fooling anyone, Ben.”

“How do you mean?” Benedict asked nervously in one last ditch effort to conceal the truth. He shouldn’t have bothered; his brothers had seen how smitten he was with you, and soon the entire ton would be abuzz with salacious gossip if he did not make his move that very evening.

“Benedict,” Anthony chided sternly, clapping him on the shoulder, “Please, do not deny it any longer. You’re clearly bewitched.” The eldest Bridgerton child could not help but smirk; it was almost entertaining to see his usually guarded brother so obviously in love.

Benedict sighed, defeated, “Alright,” he whispered, his face flush with embarrassment, “I apologize for thinking I could ever keep a secret from you two.” Colin smirked proudly, feeling as if he were London’s greatest detective, “I’ll tell you everything if you want, but for the love of Christ, it cannot be here.” He gestured to the room, which was growing more crowded with preening mamas, hunting for the slightest whiff of a scandal.

While Benedict and his brothers searched for a private room for him to regale your escapades, your night flew by, and hours later you found yourself chatting with Daphne and Simon on the gorgeously decorated outdoor terrace. The night was perfectly temperate, and although the noise had died down significantly as many guests had departed for the evening, your head was still swimming in thought. Specifically, you were overwhelmed by the thought of Benedict.

He was quite kind to you, and a very smart, charming gentleman, but you felt your heart lurch as you recalled the intimate nights you had shared over the last few weeks. Men of Benedict’s status would not wed a tainted woman, no matter how much you wished he would. It was only a matter of time before Lady Whistledown revealed your transgressions, and you would be marked as an undesirable to the entire upper echelon of society.

You shuddered at the thought. “Chilly, dear?” Daphne asked sweetly, noticing the unsettled look on your face, “I would think you’d be more protected from the elements with that beautiful shawl on.” Your heart jumped to your throat before you could cover for yourself; Benedict had appeared on the terrace, looking absolutely petrified. Simon and Daphne exchanged glances.

“Darling,” Simon said, turning to his wife, “It is quite crisp out here, don’t you think? Perhaps we should—”

“Go inside to warm up?” Daphne finished his sentence, that unmistakably mischievous glint in her eye that all Bridgerton children possessed, “Why yes, I think that is a fantastic idea, Simon.” She hooked her arm under her husband’s, and the two of them bid you and Benedict adieu, much to your dismay. You were certain he had been found out by his family and was here to end your affair before word reached the rest of the ton.

Still, you managed to smile politely. Simon was right, there was a slight chill that pervaded the terrace, mostly due to the lack of company that had populated the space only hours before, “Hello, Benedict,” you mutter, shifting your weight from one heeled foot to the other, “Will you be departing soon or—?”

“Erm, yes,” he answered a bit too quickly, and you raised an eyebrow. His strange behavior all night was another indicator that ending things was clearly as difficult for him to initiate as it would be for you to accept, “But first, I, well, I need to tell you something. Something I probably should have told you weeks ago.”

You felt a lump in your throat almost instantaneously. ‘Here it comes,’ you thought, more distressed than you hoped you would be. Benedict took your gloved hand, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. If it were not slightly improper, you would almost find it comforting; his touch always seemed to soothe you, ever since your first night together.

“I never expected to…for us to become so close in such a short period of time,” he began, wondering at what point in this silly speech he would make a royal ass out of himself. Though he had gained a little brotherly insight from Anthony and Colin, he still felt as though he could vomit at any second, “And, well, truth be told, I have enjoyed every moment we have spent together.”

You smiled, pleased by his kind words, “Truthfully, I have felt the same,” you remarked, “But it’s quite alright, Ben, I understand—”

“You do?” he cut you off again, a bead of sweat forming on his brow, “Am I really so obvious about my affection for you?” You stared at him, confused. Was this not him ending whatever…relationship the two of you shared? Now you felt like the fool.

“Affection?” you repeated, your mouth twitching, “I thought you did not want to see me anymore.” Benedict’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help but laugh dryly. You had mistaken his jittery behavior as a bad omen, when that could not be further from reality.

He shook his head, and you felt the pace of your heartbeat quicken, “My dear, I think there’s been a slight misunderstanding,” he joked, clearing his throat, “I know that our relationship has been a secret for some time, but I cannot hide how I feel for you any longer. You are kind, and witty, and strong, and incredibly adventurous, and when our dance came to an end earlier this evening, I…I felt like there was a part of me missing as soon as you left. I…when I’m not with you, it’s almost like…I can’t breathe.”

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, taken aback by his doting and earnest words. “And it would be my honor,” he smiled, his gaze intense and impassioned, “If I could ask for your hand.” Your eyes sparkled back at his, and you nodded silently, attempting to conceal a squeal of girlish glee. You two were still, unfortunately, in public.

“Yes,” you exhaled, feeling foolish from your assumptions about Benedict only minutes before, “I would be equally honored to be your wife, Benedict Bridgerton.” You snuck him a quick kiss on his cheek, causing him to flush for what was probably the hundredth time that night, “I see our friends were right after all, weren’t they?”

“Yes, yes they were, and I doubt I will ever hear the end of it from Anthony and Colin,” Benedict mused, smiling sweetly as the corners of his eyes crinkled happily, “I’ll see to a proper visit first thing tomorrow morning, I promise.” He studied you, doing all he could to absorb the joyous look etched upon your radiant face. You smirked, turning in the direction of your family’s carriage.

“I shall hold you to that,” you said, pulling him towards the exit, “But don’t think this night is over, Mr. Bridgerton. I’m not done with you quite yet.”

-----------

I hope you enjoyed reading! As always I would love to hear any comments or feedback! Like/comment/reblog, all that good stuff :)

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leviiattacks · 4 years

Note

heyyy there, saw your requests are open. and i'm wondering maybe you could do a timeskip where everything is done and levi finally opened his tea shop. then there he met reader, and he treats them differently from other customers. thank you, hope you're having a good day.

author note :: this was kinda rushed as is most of what i post. the reader is a writer just bc i thought it would be cute and also ISTG. i wrote this entire thing thinking leviolas was such a cool name for a tea shop then googled it and saw it’s also the name of a spider so... ++ btw i have not yet double checked or proofread this because i wrote it at 2am but yeah it’s definitely not great :-) word count :: 2.4k??? somehow???

you’re sweet like honey when you first order from leviolas. you’re the same when you ask the owner for extra napkins and you remain exactly the same when you return with the intention to stick around for a writing session with a black tea by your side

something about you is attractive. that’s what levi thinks of you when you first walk into leviolas

you’re just incredibly wholesome poking your head around looking at all of the handmade pastries and confectioneries in admiration

you think the homely decor is cute and reminiscent of cottages in the countryside, the view outside the windows is beautiful and the scent of coffee alongside tea is heavenly

the pastries are beautiful and you find yourself eyeing the macrons pretty frequently. just EVERYTHING about leviolas is cute :-(

but one particular thing is especially adorable to you

and that would be the owner

when you hear his name for the first time you’re a little shocked

levi ackerman to be specific captain levi ackerman, the high ranking official who aided in paradis’ independence and freed the nation from the grip of titans

you read about him a year back in a paper or two and vividly recall the valiant title he held as humanity’s strongest soldier

he still holds the title that’s for sure but now he happens to own a tea shop

it’s slightly unusual it’s not every day you see a soldier retire and live such a plain life but you suppose the simplicity makes levi happy

honestly, if you had been through hell and back like him you too would wish to spend the rest of your days in the company of tea leaves and sweet cakes

today is a day like any other you’re sat by one of the windows and contemplating sitting in the outside seating area

the sun is shining and lands uncomfortably on your face at this angle and you may as well make your way outside

but before you can a shadow looms over you and a broad chest leans over to cover the window with dainty curtains

“you looked bothered by the light.”

oh god.

it’s him.

he’s standing there looking at you with an unreadable expression and all you can do is open and close your mouth not knowing what to say

humanity’s strongest soldier

levi ackerman

also known as the really really really attractive cafe owner you’ve been crushing on for the last few months now

seeing him up close is much more different to looking at him from the comfort of your seat or whilst you order

he’s normally got his back turned whilst collecting orders or another worker collects them as he prepares the beverages

that’s why the unexpected interaction has you nervous

you can always tell when he’s made your drink because he honestly has a way with tea leaves and you kinda want to gush about how much you enjoy it

but, no, no, no.

you’re panicking just looking at him

soft black strands of hair stick to his forehead, his undercut is oddly satisfying to stare at and he smells of pine trees which again is refreshing

“ah hahaha thank you for blocking the sun out!!”

why the fuck did you ha ha????

this is so awkward.

putting on your best front you beam up at him hoping your toothy smile doesn’t look stupid

then again it probably does because who the hell has a good toothy smile

nobody.......

levi’s gaze lingers on you but if he has anything else he wants to say he doesn’t make it known

instead he firmly nods and turns away

you’ve messed up,,

only!!! you manage to mess up even more....?

without thinking your hand latches onto the back of his blue button up and your face burns up realizing what it is you’ve done when he stiffens to a stop

as quick as your hand has grabbed onto his shirt it lets go and you awkwardly laugh again

hahahahaha

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to hold onto you so hard i was just...wondering if you could let me in on your secret.”

the random sentence is one you’ve made off the top of your head because you don’t have any real reason for holding onto him

but thankfully for you the saccharine of your voice is enough to sway levi

when he turns to see you with the same smile eagerly awaiting his answer something sparks in him

his chest feels a little funny but he ignores it

“secret?” he questions

“yeah!! your tea!! you’re really good at making it and aaaahhhh” you sigh contently thinking back on it.

“i remember when i ordered rose tea one time. you made it beautifully and the taste was infused so delicately it was incredibly soothing.”

hearing you ramble passionately about what he loves to do makes his chest feel funny again

he doesn’t know what the hell is going on exactly

but the only way he can explain it is his heart somersaulting and flipping despite him not wanting it to

despite that, it’s quite enjoyable

it’s probably got something to do with your kindhearted demeanor or the way you always manage to give him a smile when you waltz in

but levi finds himself fighting to touch you more and more as the days pass

your collar is always haphazardly done and he wants to lean in and fix it

sometimes you’ll have an eyelash on your face and he wants to lean in to swipe it away with his thumb

occasionally he stares at your hair and wants to sort it out. half the time it’s all over the place from the wind

he wants to lean in and smooth it out.

all he wants to do is LEAN IN but he sees no valid reason to

he’s lucky he’s always able to catch himself before his thumb reaches your cheek (you’re very oblivious and never notice how close he really gets)

ever since your first encounter at leviolas a few months back he’s been dragged into your world of books and lively stories

it doesn’t take you long to break out of your shell and you’re always telling levi something new

he doesn’t speak as much as you but when you coax out a story or two out of him he’s always earnest

you’ve learnt a lot through the conversations

you’ve learnt about his lost comrades, the horrible things he had to see on the battlefield, how he hopes he’ll live happy with what he has left

there are certain conversation topics he skips entirely and you respect his boundaries

you and levi are sat by a window and a comfortable silence floats between you two

it’s been four months

four months since you asked what his secret was

come to think of it he never told you what it was

he’s intently staring at you as you drink the lemon tea he’s just made you and his stare is a little too intense

feeling nervous you pick up your cup hoping for something to occupy yourself

recently the butterflies in your stomach have been increasing in number but you know it’s wrong to fancy levi

you don’t know why you think that but it’s the fact that you’re sure you’re not his type

he probably likes organised people, dependable people, funny people

not you.

you’re just an irksome author who spends your days writing in his shop

honestly he finds you annoying he has to. you’re always hanging around here

however, you do remember the one day you did choose to write in the park he thought you had died or something. that made you feel a little sad because he can’t really help but automatically worry if his routine is broken and you happen to have accidentally become part of his schedule

no, like levi’s literally said he has your name in his planner and whenever he thinks of a new thing to make you he’ll write it down with your name next to it

but still,, you’re convinced he has to find you annoying

there’s no reason for thinking it but you DEFINITELY think it’s correct

absentmindedly you haven’t even noticed levi still staring at you

“y/n?”

looking up at levi he’s clearly worried about something

humming in response telling him to continue he does

“i like someone.”

oh.

“...i’m not sure they’d return my feelings, that’s why i mentioned it.”

you smile at him warmly and you feel your heart sink, obviously he has to like someone. it’s probably someone in the corps, someone strong, someone capable. you’re not any of those things.

“well, you need not worry. if a man as good as you fancied me i’d be over the moon. i’m sure they would too!”

keep optimistic, don’t let him see you upset.

levi’s cheeks grow bright red and he bashfully tries to hide his embarrassment by covering his face with his hands

you laugh when he doesn’t budge and stays in the same position

“c’mon levi, confess they’ll accept you have nothing to fear.” you coo persuasively

finally letting up after a few seconds he lets his arms drop to his sides.

“would you date me?”

the question takes you aback and you stare at him startled

soon realizing the idiocy laced in the inquiry he quickly retracts his statement

“nevermind, that was stupid.”

ignoring him you still want to answer

“uh well, i would. i have thought about it on occasion.”

he’s blinking rapidly trying to process what you’ve just admitted.

“you’ve thought about...?”

“dating you. yes i have.”

“and why the hell would you do that?” you can’t tell if he’s mad at you

“you’re capable, respectful. you’re considerate and quiet. i mean it you’re an amazing man really. also your tea!! imagine getting to drink it every day.”

you really have to add in the part about his tea because you know he loves it when you compliment it :-)

“ok, you drink my tea every day already.”

his short uninterested response stings and the dam of regret bursts open

you shouldn’t have said all of that.

you and levi sit in an awkward silence for what feels like an eternity. you don’t dare look at him and your course of action is too drink your tea as quick as possible before dismissing yourself.

but before you can set your plan in motion levi breaks the ice.

“let’s date.”

you freeze and your eyes grow to the size of saucers

what did he just say???

he has to be losing his mind

“but levi what about the person you like?”

his eyebrow cocks upwards and an amused expression stretches across his face.

“i was talking about you.” he confesses boldly

this is a fever dream, nope, nope nope. you can not comprehend that this is your reality.

pinching your arm you hiss a little when you feel the pain

okay so, you’re definitely not dreaming...

“i, you, me. you...you like me?” the sentence is a jumble of words but you manage to sputter out something that makes sense

“yes. i like you.”

he’s being so blunt you can’t tell if he’s being serious but when you remind yourself that this is levi you relax, a blunt straightforward confession is meaningful coming from him

BUT THAT’S BESIDES THE POINT

HELLO???? HE LIKES YOU BACK?%^%^”*

you get all blushy and flustered and you let out another one of your awkward hahahahaha’s but it’s a good hahahahaha

cautiously testing the waters he grabs your hand from across the table intertwining his fingers with yours

the gesture is adorable. the buzzing sensation that travels through your laced fingers makes you giggle to yourself giddily

“leviolas suddenly a matchmaking agency now? ;-)” your joke is dry and unfunny and levi rolls his eyes at it

“you’re not funny.”

“but you still like me.” you tease

“yes. i still like you.” he admits

a few days have passed since then

you and levi have been the talk of the town

humanity’s strongest soldier finally found his flame???

the chatter and rumors spread like wildfire, both you and levi aren’t fans of being in the spotlight but nothing negative has been said so there’s no complaints so far

levi places a cup of tea in front of you, it’s a herbal kind because you’ve been complaining about a headache

today you’re explaining why you dislike the plot of beauty and the beast and how there’s so much wrong with it. from the weirdly toxic relationship to the power imbalance. levi stands listening attentively whilst waiting for you to take a sip of the tea

just as you’ve paused to take a large breathe and prepare yourself to continue explaining how unbearable that book is levi uses it as his chance to say what he’s been wanting to

“drink up before it’s ice cold.”

following his instructions you interrupt yourself and take a gulp of the herbal tea

your eyes glimmer in approval. it tastes of strawberries and you’re delighted already feeling your mood slightly raise in response

“it’s GREAT?? what did you put in it?? it doesn’t even taste medicinal.” once again, you’re fawning over his tea

“so levi ackerman, what really is the secret to all these perfect cups of tea?”

and without a seconds hesitation he responds.

“i was making the tea for you. that’s the secret.”

it takes a while for the gravity of his words to sink it but when the meaning does you cup his face in your palms and peck him everywhere. he whines a little but you can tell he enjoys the attention

you find that you’re more than happy you’ve found a home in levi and his shop

and levi’s more than happy he’s found a home in you and your books

:-)

#leviiattacks #aot #attack on titan #levi x reader #levi x y/n #snk #aot fanfiction #attack on titan levi #levi ackerman #levi #shingeki no kyoujin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi drabbles #attack on titan x reader #levi fanfiction #levi headcanons #tea shop levi #levi scenario #levi fluff

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zintranslations · 3 years

Text

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 124

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Chapter 124: Long Sword

Once the insect swarm dispersed, Lin Qiushi's group left the dining room. The moment they stepped outside, however, they found that the flying insects had appeared in the hallway, batting their wings to form a faint black line in midair that led off to some unknown room.

This was likely what the string signified. Lin Qiushi had thought it would be more complicated than this, but somehow, Ruan Nanzhu's messing around had yielded them the correct answer. He glanced at Ruan Nanzhu and asked, "do we follow and see where it goes?"

"Sure." Ruan Nanzhu looked at the time and confirmed it was still early. "Let's go."

Then they headed off in the direction the insects were guiding them in, toward where all the rooms were.

Every five minutes, the positions of the rooms changed, and when that happened, the direction the insects pointed to also changed. Hovering in mid-air, they were all connected together in a single-file line. The three of them kept following the path of insects, but very quickly, they discovered something off—at one point, the insects broke off into two swarms. One pointed left, and one pointed right, in different directions.

"Why's this happening?" Gu Longming was utterly confounded when he saw the split insects. He grabbed a bug off-hand and trapped it in his palm. When he released it, it swiftly returned to its original position. "Why have these mosquitoes split up? Unless…"

He understood something. With a pained expression he peered at Lin Qiushi.

"Unless there are two monsters?"

That seemed to be the only answer, but Lin Qiushi didn't think the matter would be so simple. He asked, "we'll split up and see?"

Ruan Nanzhu thought for a bit.

"Okay, Gu Longming goes left with you, and I go right."

Lin Qiushi nodded, not arguing. He only reminded Ruan Nanzhu that if Ruan Nanzhu did find something strange, he shouldn't force anything; the objective this time was to gather information.

Hearing Lin Qiushi's earnest suggestion, Ruan Nanzhu couldn't help but smile.

"I knew it, our Linlin's all grown up. He worries about me now, how heartwarming."

Lin Qiushi: "…I'm very serious."

"Yes, I know you're serious." He came over and gave the corner of Lin Qiushi's mouth a casual peck. "I'll be careful. See you later."

Lin Qiushi waved a hand at him.

"See you later."

As they were conversing, the space around them changed again, and the directions they were heading altered once more. This time, the insects seemed to be guiding them toward the lowest-level deck.

Lin Qiushi and Gu Longming wasted no more time, jogging the rest of the way ahead, hoping to find the room the insects were guiding them to before everything changed again.

The two were quick, finding the room indicated by the insects in half the time. At this room, those bugs flew through the air and attached themselves in a dense layer all over the door. As soon as he was near, Lin Qiushi got a whiff of a strong, rotted fish stench.

It was truly too pungent—about as bad as how the room from last time smelled. It was too easy to anticipate that inside this room, they would find that giant fishman monster shut away.

At the room, Lin Qiushi didn't rush and try to enter. Instead he put his ear to the door and listened for any sounds inside. The room was quiet enough to seem like it held nothing alive, but Lin Qiushi still heard something odd: a faint breathing sound coming from the door…The breaths came from somewhere close to him, as if there was only the single door between him and whatever was inside.

Gu Longming, on the other hand, was looking through the window. He seemed to have spotted something in the inky black, face going slightly pale as he took a couple of steps back. He gestured toward the inside of the room at Lin Qiushi, nodding emphatically to say that there was something inside.

So Lin Qiushi got up and looked through the window too.

Through a crack in the curtains, he saw a pair of yellow eyes hidden in the dark. They were fish eyes, with perfectly circular pupils and the whites of the eyes giving off a bright golden glow. They were currently staring out the door with a none-too-friendly expression.

Those eyes slowly moved, like the thing had sensed there were people standing outside. Lin Qiushi saw it slowly open its mouth, filled densely with white teeth and a tongue softly glowing blue.

Hang on…yellow eyes? Lin Qiushi’s breathing froze. He felt that he'd caught onto something, swiftly pulling out his cell phone, turning on the flashlight, and tossing the beam of light in through the curtains.

As the light entered the room, Lin Qiushi could finally see the thing clearly. It was a creature difficult to describe—at least, Lin Qiushi had never seen its like.

It had a gigantic head of a fish and a fragile human body. Because the head was so big and heavy, the creature couldn't even stand straight; both the head and the thin, mismatched body could only sprawl on the floor. Most eye-catching was the long, sharp horn at the top of its head—it looked both piercing and deadly…and the first thing Lin Qiushi thought of was the long sword that killed the Minotaur from the myth.

The fishman's attention was caught by the light Lin Qiushi brought and a strange roar came out of its mouth. Gu Longming saw its strange appearance and couldn't help but rub at his arms, forcing a grin.

"The heck is that thing?"

"What we saw in the first room seems to be this fish-person," Lin Qiushi said. "Remember the yellow eyes from that room?"

Gu Longming nodded that he remembered.

At the mention of the yellow eyes, he finally realized. The eyes of the human-eating fish-monster were not yellow, but a discomforting shock of white. This kind of detail, however, easily blurred in shocking situations, and it was only due to Lin Qiushi's reminder that he could now faintly remember.

"So there are two monsters?" Gu Longming swallowed. "And so the purpose of this monster, could it be…"

His gaze fell on the needle-sharp horn at the top of that monster's head, and said the words Lin Qiushi was thinking.

"The long sword?"

Lin Qiushi: "We can suppose so."

At least so far, they had yet to find another appropriate, weapon-like item on the ship. The truth was, the moment he'd gotten a clear look at this fishman's apperance, Lin Qiushi had had the similar thought. Gu Longming had clearly drawn the same conclusions that he did.

The sound of the two talking seemed to have stimulated the monster inside. It began to crawl about a little violently, twisting about in a grotesque and scary manner.

Seeing its agitation, Lin Qiushi got a bad feeling. So he grabbed Gu Longming and backed up a few steps.

The moment they backed up, a long sharp spike appeared through the solid wood wall in front of them. The thing in the room had used the horn on its head to stab straight through the wall—two, three times, leaving a number of holes behind. Had they not backed away just now—and had gotten unfortunately stabbed—it was easy to see how painful it would've been.

But after Lin Qiushi confirmed the identity of the thing inside the room, time was up for another switch. The room before them disappeared, replaced with just another normal bedroom. The path of the insects changed as well, and the location of that fish swapped to the upper deck.

Gu Longming was disgusted by even the thought of this fish. He'd actually enjoyed eating fish before this door, but after marinading in fish stench for the past few days, he’d become reflexively nauseated at the thought of that taste. The unfortunate likelihood was that even after leaving this door, it would be a while still before he stopped being grossed out by fish.

Lin Qiushi: "Come on, let's go see where Zhu Meng is."

Gu Longming nodded.

The two left the bottom-level deck and headed up. They found Ruan Nanzhu standing on the top deck with his head poked out over the black seawater.

He turned around at the sound of their foot steps.

"What did you find?"

Lin Qiushi said, "I think we found the long sword."

Ruan Nanzhu's eyes gleamed: "You found it?"

Lin Qiushi nodded and gave him a quick rundown of the thing the saw. He emphasized the long horn they'd seen on that fishman monster's head and how it’d looked both sturdy and sharp, like it would make for a great offensive weapon.

As for Ruan Nanzhu, he said that in the room he found, he saw the giant fishman who'd eaten a person the night before.

"But how are we supposed to kill that fishman?" Gu Longming asked, squatting on the planks and dejectedly eating the candy that Lin Qiushi gave him. "I don't think that thing's any easier to deal with than the fish monster we saw before."

What they were most concerned about was not the width, but the depth of the wounding; once a wound got deep, it had a hard time healing, particularly on a ship that lacked medical supplies like this. It was obvious that once stabbed by that horn, even if you didn't die the day of, complications like tetanus, etc. would kill you in the next few days.

Ruan Nanzhu listened to Gu Longming's worries and comforted him—by saying don't worry, if it really does come to that, we'll finish you off nice and clean.

Gu Longming: "…how about no. Thank you."

Lin Qiushi thought this was something of a paradox. They had to first kill the yellow-eyed fishman before they could kill the monster symbolized by the Minotaur, but that was where the problem lied—how were they supposed to kill the yellow-eyed fishman? Did they really have to just take their dinner knives and go head-to-head with that thing?

As the three were discussing what to do, they heard a sudden ruckus from the dining room, interspersed with shocked shouts and agonized screaming.

At this sound they knew instantly that something else had happened. Lin Qiushi traded a glance with Ruan Nanzhu and turned for the dining room. Before he even went inside, he could smell the thick scent of blood—Lin Qiushi looked down and found a pool of it on the floor planks. A wounded man was lying on the ground inside, covering a wound in his abdomen with his hands. The wound seemed very deep, lumping up and spilling forth bright red blood.

Gu Longming took a few steps forward.

"What happened? How did he get hurt?" He took off his jacket and, using it as bandaging, began treating the victim's wounds in well-trained motions. He was trying to stop the man's bleeding.

Seeing his actions however, Lin Qiushi formulated a guess about Gu Longming's job outside the doors.

"He discovered outside that the insects seemed to be leading in a certain direction, so we followed it." The person speaking was the man's companion—he'd been a bystander and witness to the entire process of how his friend got hurt. He continued shakily: "But when we got there, this long spike came out of the room and stabbed him right in the body."

Gu Longming frowned.

"It doesn't look good, the kidney looks like it's been perforated." There weren't any useful medical supplies at hand either, and considering the blood flow, this person was likely…

A girl nearby said: "I brought a hemostatic spray, can you use that?"

"Give it here," Gu Longming said. "I can only try—treat a dead horse like a live one, right?"[1]

He did his best to tourniquet the person's body to reduce the output of blood. Then, after using up a good half of the hemostatic spray, he managed to stop the ever-flowing bleeding.

"What was the thing that stabbed your friend?" Seeing the person stabilize, someone turned their attention onto the person who was still alive.

"It looked like a fish," the survivor answered. "I'm not sure…I only caught a glimpse before this happened."

"We'll go have a look too." The crowd was clearly interested in this fish, and so dispersed from the dining room.

Moments later, there were only a handful of people left inside.

"How does it look? Will my friend survive?" that person asked Gu Longming plaintively.

Gu Longming sighed, saying, "if he gets out early he might be saved, but…" This wasn't a place they could come to and go from at will.

So everybody quieted down. Gu Longming looked at the blood on his hands and said, "I'm gonna go wash my hands real quick." He got up and went to the bathroom.

The victim's breathing grew weaker and weaker, and even though Gu Longming did all he could, a few hours later, the man still died.

The entire dining room was filled with the thick stench of blood. It was also, coincidentally, time for supper; the Dead Fish Dinner Sets just happened to be placed on the tables, and the stench of the fish plus the smell of blood meant everyone had even less appetite. Nobody even wanted to go through the motions before taking off from the dining room.

Ruan Nanzhu, however, stayed where he was. Lin Qiushi didn't rush him either, because he knew that if Ruan Nanzhu was staying, then Ruan Nanzhu must have his reasons.

Due to the death of the person that afternoon, Gu Longming was a bit down. He poked at the noodles on the plate in front of him without much energy or appetite.

After most people left the dining room, Ruan Nanzhu pulled a few plastic bags out of his clothes.

"What are you planning to do?" Lin Qiushi startled.

Ruan Nanzhu: "I don't think the door would have us go head-to-head with that thing. There's too much of a difference in power."

Lin Qiushi: "So you want…" He watched as Ruan Nanzhu took all the dead fish from the dining table and stuffed his own pockets until they were bulging. "You want to feed the fish to that thing?"

"It was the aperitif that got the Minotaur drunk in the myth," Ruan Nanzhu said. "We pretty much know what the aperitif refers to now."

The eaten fish was fermented inside the belly, to be tasted once the stomach was split open; it was truly a kind of appetizer liquor.

So Ruan Nanzhu wanted to use the dead fish to lure the Minotaur to the yellow-eyed fish monster. They didn't know if it would work, but they had to give it a try.

This method, after all, was a lot more reliable than bringing a dining knife to a fish fight.

Ruan Nanzhu packed up all the dead fish and took them to go, following the path of the insects to once again find the room where the yellow-eyed fish monster resided.

There were already many more holes in the room; it had clearly used the sharp weapon on its head to make them.

Ruan Nanzhu gestured for Lin Qiushi and Gu Longming to stand further away as he tossed, with a single throw, the fish in his hand through a gap in the window.

The dead fish splattered all over the ground. That yellow-eyed fish monster pounced on them in excitement. It picked them up with its hands and began an aggressive gnawing; it ate quickly, and finished in short time the entire bag of fish that Ruan Nanzhu tossed in. It was a good thing they were prepared, quickly throwing in the other few bags of fish as well.

As it ate, Ruan Nanzhu stood watching from the side. Lin Qiushi was a big worried about him getting hurt though, since the blood from the last victim was still dripping in display on the window.

The yellow-eyed fishman finished all the fish, not leaving behind any heads, even. When it was full, it looked on, contented, before going to sleep on the ground just like that.

"Let's go," Ruan Nanzhu said to Lin Qiushi.

It was already a bit dark outside, and even though he really wanted to see what would happen here tonight, staying out was not a smart move.

So the three went and found another room they could rest in, and got in bed waiting for evening to arrive.

The last beam of light disappeared with the sun descending beneath the horizon. It was a moonless evening, with only the howling sea winds and the storm clouds like a piece of fabric hung up in the sky.

Lin Qiushi couldn't really sleep, staring idly out the window.

Ruan Nanzhu had first been in a different bed, but mid-sleep he'd somehow scooted over beside Lin Qiushi. So the two were now squeezed together.

They didn't speak, nor did they even look at each other. The way they simply knew each other was as if they'd already experienced hundreds and thousands of the exact scenario before them now.

They were both waiting—waiting on the answer to their experiment.

Around three in the morning, their waiting finally yielded results.

Lin Qiushi's ears caught something like the roar of a wild beast—and then the sounds of a violent battle. They were quite far from those sounds, and couldn't really make out what was happening, but the battle lasted for a very long time. It wasn't until the sun was almost up again that it gradually faded away.

"Who do you think won?" Ruan Nanzhu asked quietly.

"I don't know," Lin Qiushi said. "There's no difference either way."

Though things were mostly going as planned, something still happened that exceeded their expectations—not long after the sound of fighting stopped, there came the sound of human crying and screaming on the ship. When he heard this, Lin Qiushi jumped, crawling out of bed and going to the window. He wanted to see exactly what was happening outside, but the evening was too dark and he couldn't make out anything at all.

Luckily, Ruan Nanzhu's vision came into use at a key moment. He saw the fishman drag a struggling human onto the upper deck.

"How could this be?!" When Lin Qiushi heard Ruan Nanzhu's description, he couldn't believe it. "Nobody ate any fish inside the dining room today—"

Ruan Nanzhu's brow puckered. "You…remember the guy that Jian Qianyuan injured yesterday?"

Lin Qiushi: "…" He nodded.

Ruan Nanzhu: "I don't think he came to the dining room at all today."

Lin Qiushi's attention had been on the two monsters all day, and he hadn't noticed: "But isn't it a good thing that he didn't come to the dining room?"

Not coming to the dining room meant that he didn't eat the fish, so why would the monster target him?

Ruan Nanzhu only grimaced.

"It's not only the dining room that has fish."

Lin Qiushi: "…" He immediately remembered that filthy kitchen.

"There's plenty of fish to be had in the kitchen," Ruan Nanzhu said. "There's got to be a sacrifice."

Lin Qiushi sighed. He'd thought that there wouldn't need to be a sacrifice tonight, but now that he thought about it, he’d been naive. It wasn't kind inside the doors at all. The longer they stayed here, the worse the casualties would be.

That person's screams gradually faded, leaving behind only the silence of a long evening.

Before morning came, Lin Qiushi managed to get some sleep. But he didn't know whether it was due to a nightmare or if he didn't actually manage to sleep—he kept feeling that for the rest of the evening, that thing had kept circling the room they were in. He'd even smelled that nauseating stench of fish.

On day three, none of the three were in good spirits. They hadn't slept well for the past few nights, disturbed as they'd been with a number of things.

Conducting several days of christening meant the group was already numb to another body appearing on deck. They got rid of the body in well-trained motions and scrubbed the deck clean, returning to the day like nothing had happened at all.

Lin Qiushi's attention was not on the deck. He went off to the dining room early, hoping to find trace of the bugs. But disappointingly, the insects that had formed the string yesterday had disappeared.

"There's no rush." Ruan Nanzhu glanced at his watch. "It's still early."

"Mh," Lin Qiushi said in understanding.

Without the string, they couldn't find the two monsters, so they could only keep waiting.

At around eleven or so, the scenario that Lin Qiushi had been waiting on finally appeared—the NPC that became the insects yesterday showed up once more in the dining room. He wore the same clothes, had the same expression, and looked just like an NPC who kept resetting in a game.

They didn't need Ruan Nanzhu this time for someone to approach this NPC and pat him hard on the shoulder.

So the same thing that happened yesterday happened again. The insects swarmed then dispersed, disappearing from inside the dining room, and at the same time, two lines of insects formed outside, leading off in unknown directions.

Lin Qiushi, Ruan Nanzhu, and Gu Longming began following a string to find the place they were looking for. A few minutes later, they came upon the exterior of a room. Compared to yesterday, it looked very different, because it was readily apparent from the outside that last night, this room had been the site of a vicious battle. The wooden window slats were completely crushed, and the lock that hung on the door had also been torn violently off.

It seemed like the two monsters did have a fierce battle between them. Judging by the final incident from the night before, however, it seemed that the giant fishman had gotten the advantage.

[Ch. 123] | [Ch. 125]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒 #sorry for no updates this weekend i got surprisingly busy #;;#i'll try to make up for it

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hartigays · 3 years

Note

I’m laughing thinking about Ward going through the 5 stages of grief after learning Rafe has a boyfriend

ward cameron when rafe tells him he’s a raging homosexual:

fic under the cut!!

the dinner table is silent, save for the noises of forks and knives clinking against porcelain.

rafe stares down at his steak, mouth watering but refusing to eat it. he has plans later, after all, and steak is not kind to his bowels, despite how delicious it may be going down.

his bowels do not need to be in a twist for what’s in store for him later.

barry would probably murder him in the front yard of his trailer - it has been a week since they’ve been able to see each other, after all. and as barry had so eloquently put it on the phone earlier, rafe needs to be prepared to be “taken down to pound town, back around, and down again”.

not like anyone at the table needs to know this, but rafe imagines he’ll get questions soon enough about his lack of enthusiasm towards his meal.

almost as if she could read his mind, rose fixes rafe with a calculating look and asks, “rafe, why aren’t you eating? that’s a perfectly good steak, i don’t want it going to waste.”

going to waste, rafe thinks with an internal snort. everything in this house goes to waste - it’s just part of living on figure eight. everything is disposable, everything is replaceable.

“rafe, eat your steak,” ward insists with a sigh, not looking up from his plate. “i’m not in the mood tonight.”

in the mood for what, rafe has no idea. ward is acting like rafe is a fussy 4-year-old who he has to constantly battle with to eat his peas, when in reality ward couldn’t give less of a shit about what rafe does or says or eats on a daily basis, so long as it’s not making the family look bad.

the thought alone has rafe gritting his teeth, glaring across the table at his sorry excuse for a father.

“i’m not hungry,” rafe lies, folding his arms across his chest.

ward sighs again, like this 2-second conversation has pained him greatly, still not looking up. “i’m not arguing with you, rafe. eat the damn steak or leave the table. no one is in the mood for your sulking.”

rafe makes a face, then rolls his eyes. “i’m not sulking. but whatever, i have to be somewhere anyway.”

he scoots his chair back, ignoring sarah eyeing him warily from the seat adjacent to his.

“be somewhere? it’s almost nine,” rose questions. she raises her brows at rafe expectantly.

rose is looking at him like the stern stepmother she pretends to be, acting like she actually gives a shit where rafe is going, when the question was really only asked to ensure that whatever rafe is doing, it won’t reflect poorly on everyone else.

never mind that rafe is nearly 20 years old and can go wherever he pleases. he’s also gotten sick of this notion that every move he makes will somehow make them all look bad and tear the family apart. despite the fact that sarah is the one who’s openly dating a pogue, one who’s basically a walking red flag.

barry may live on the cut, but at least he doesn’t brand himself the king of pogueland.

rafe narrows his eyes at rose before making a split-second decision.

“well, my boyfriend gets off work late, so yeah. i have somewhere to be at nine,” rafe says offhandedly, like it’s no big deal, like everyone already knew he was a massive fruit who’s been on his knees for his local coke dealer for the past six months.

the sounds of silverware clattering onto plates fills the room, and rafe feels ridiculously satisfied with himself for getting a reaction. he loves to see these idiots squirm.

he’d rather see them all choke on rat poison, but barry is insistent that he won’t continue fucking rafe if he goes off and kills his whole family.

barry is lucky rafe loves him, because honestly, not being allowed to murder people who irritate him is kind of a buzzkill.

“you- who- your what?” ward sputters, the first to break the heavy silence.

“my boyfriend,” rafe repeats slowly, enunciating, treating ward like he’s the stupid, petulant child he constantly claims rafe is.

rafe watches ward’s face go from pale, to pink, to violently red. there’s a set to his jaw and rafe just knows ward would give anything to leap across the table and wring rafe’s neck right this very moment.

“no, nope, absolutely not,” ward snaps, furious in his denial. “not my son. no.”

“ward- ” rose starts, but ward cuts her off with a swift wave of his hand.

“do you realize how this will look for us if anyone finds out?” ward spits, holding his fork in a white-knuckle grip.

sarah actually speaks up on rafe’s behalf, which is probably the most shocking reaction rafe has gotten so far.

“dad, come on. it’s 2021,” she says with a sigh, shaking her head. “besides, rafe being gay is probably one of the only good things about him. or, wait, are you bi? or gay?”

sarah questions rafe casually, like this information doesn’t come as any kind of shock to her. rafe makes a mental note to revisit that later, along with her comment about it being one of his only good traits. she’s looking at him almost in earnest, and for a brief moment rafe is transported back to a time when he actually liked his sister.

“not that it’s any of your business,” rafe starts, glancing at her, “but i’m gay. thanks for asking. anyway, like i said, i have somewhere to be, so- ”

“not a big deal?” ward hisses, cutting him off, clearly still stuck on sarah’s surprising defense of rafe’s sexuality. “not a big deal? sarah, it’s- no, see? no. we aren’t talking about this.”

Despite his own declaration, Ward continues, “what about all those girls? all those girls you hung around with? the ones you brought around? you know you can still have them over from time to time. i know we talked about respect and responsibility, but i suppose a man does need to let loose every now and then, and if it’ll help- ”

this time, rafe is the one to cut ward off, not in the mood for his pathetic attempt at bargaining.

“dad. dad. i’m gay,” rafe says firmly. “forget about the girls. it wasn’t what you thought.”

ward opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to form some sort of coherent response. then, he buries his face in his hands, groaning.

“why is it always something with you, rafe?” ward mumbles through his hands, sounding defeated. “can we not just have one day? one day without your life overshadowing everything we’ve worked towards?”

rafe rolls his eyes at ward’s dramatics. “how does me liking dick ruin anything for this family?”

“rafe, wheezie is right here!” rose admonishes. wheezie just chokes on her water, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“sorry, wheeze,” rafe tells her, feeling only a little bad. “but i’m just saying. half the guys on figure eight go both ways. it’s seriously not a big deal.”

ward finally looks up at rafe, crossing his arms before staring for a long stretch. long enough that rafe starts to turn to go, itching to get away and back to the one person who doesn’t make him want to rip his hair out.

“fine,” ward finally says just as rafe turns on his heel. “fine. but don’t- don’t expect me to meet him. or like him. and for the love of god, don’t bring him to important events. whoever he is, he’s bound to draw attention.”

that’s very, very true. and rafe has every intention of dragging barry to the next auction or gala or what the fuck ever, clad in one of his stupid sleeveless t-shirts and basketball shorts and his hair in a messy, tangled bun - the whole nine yards.

he’s dying to see the look on ward’s face when he shows up to some black-tie event with barry the cocaine king slash dirty mechanic slash army vet in tow.

“so is that it?” rafe asks, sounding bored even to his own ears. “can i go now?”

ward still looks like he wants to slam his head through the nearest window, but he nods. accepting the truth that rafe has forcibly laid out before him, albeit reluctantly.

rafe nods back, turning and walking away with his hands stuffed in his pockets, whistling a tune that’s far too cheerful given the looks on everyone’s faces as he exits the dining room.

his favorite is ward’s, still looking angry and defeated and resigned to his acceptance of rafe’s preferences all at once. rafe hops onto his motorbike, yanking on his helmet with a smile.

barry will be proud of him, he thinks. not only did he finally come out to his family, but he also didn’t feed them rat poison during the process.

baby steps. he’s taking them one at a time, very carefully, and he thinks that’s something at least.

maybe barry will reward him for his efforts, rafe wonders, just before revving his bike to life and speeding off the property.

rafe deserves a reward, in his own personal opinion. and after all, his opinion is the only one that matters, really.

maybe barry’s, too, but only when it suits rafe. if that happens to be more often than rafe would care to admit, well. that’s between him and Jesus.

the night air is cool as it whips around him, and rafe looks forward to the warmth of barry and his shitty little trailer, not sparing a single thought about the mess he just left in his wake.

rafe presses harder on the gas, heading towards home.

#rafebarry #outer banks #i hope this along the lines of what u were wanting nonnie!!#thank u for the req mwah 💋#my fics #ask #anon

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todrokishoto · 4 years

Text

late night conversations | shouto todoroki

summary: excitement leads to insomnia and insomnia leads to a conversation with mr. shouto todoroki

warning(s): mentions of fighting and poor half and half’s childhood. slight angst

a/n: ok but this is not where i was expecting this to go. it was supposed to be about something else lmao but enjoy ig

your undeniable fatigue was overwhelming, but you were still unable to succumb to the sleep you so desperately needed. not yet, anyway. your body, albeit drained from the physical training performed today during class, was buzzing.

demanding training was nothing new to class 1-a, and each and everyone of you were progressing with each round of drills the teachers would throw at you. add academic studies into the mix as well and you have the perfect recipe for exhaustion.

your door slipped shut behind you, the excitement coursing through your veins making it impossible to remain in bed. the hardwood floor was cold underneath your bare feet, but you didn’t feel like going back to fetch your slippers.

during class with mr. aizawa, you were finally able to nail the ultimate move you had been working on for the past couple of weeks. not only did it feel amazing to execute it flawlessly after so much practice, but it had scored you the victory in the fight against ururaka.

the auburn-haired girl had learned a lot during her internship and had put up more of a fight than you expected. you had seen her go up against some of your other classmates, but experiencing it in person was definitely something else.

the ding of the elevator echoed, the doors moving apart, as you arrived on the first floor. thank goodness there were no rooms on this floor because you swore the sound would have been loud enough to wake someone up.

fiddling with your phone, you moved mindlessly, trying to ignore the aches moving throughout your body. you weren’t entirely sure what you planned to do, to be quite honest, but anything seemed like a better idea than being stuck in your bedroom.

most of your classmates were sleeping, you assumed, or at the very least tucked into bed. the unusual silence of the student dorms didn’t necessarily surprise you but it did make you feel slightly uneasy. it felt foreign.

so when your name was called, you couldn’t contain the small yelp that escaped you. your phone collided with the floor, the sound once again echoing around the (almost) empty common room, and you winced. with a flick of the wrist, your quirk brought your phone back into your hand and you glanced up to inspect who else was awake at this hour.

“shouto?”

his bicolored hair fell into his eyes as he nodded. it was obvious the boy needed a haircut soon but you didn’t dare comment on it. instead, you swallowed the remainder of your shock and made your way over to the sofa he was seated on.

“what are you doing up?” you questioned quietly, hoping you weren’t prying too much.

“couldn’t sleep. my thoughts are a little overwhelming at the moment.”

you nodded, your lips pursing together as you tried to wrack your brain for an appropriate response. the two of you had shared a handful of conversations but he was always so formal, making it hard to decipher his true feelings about you. if anyone were to ask if you were friends, you had no idea what to say.

he spoke first, “sorry for scaring you, by the way.”

“it’s all good,” you assured quickly, the corner of your lips twitching with hints of embarrassment. “i, uh, just didn’t expect anyone else to be awake. i can leave. if, uh, you know, you want me to.”

he shook his head, strands of red and white mixing together. he didn’t verbally protest but scooted over slightly, leaving more room on the couch for you to sit. you accepted his silent offer, not saying anything either, as you lowered yourself onto the sofa.

the silence continued. you were itching to break it, each second passing making you feel more and more on edge. shouto didn’t make a move to talk like he had previously and you found yourself wondering if it was due to his preoccupied mind or an inability to find the right words. maybe he had just invited you to sit out of common courtesy, secretly hoping you’d decline.

“great job—”

“so, how did—”

a smile tugged on your lips as his bicolored eyes widened slightly. you nodded, waiting for him to continue his sentence. he remained quiet for a brief moment and you wondered if he suddenly regretted what he was about to say.

“i just wanted to congratulate you on your win against uraraka. you did a great job,” he praised, his words being nothing but earnest.

“thank you. i didn’t know you were, uh, watching,” you admitted. why were you suddenly feeling self-conscious about him watching you fight? most of your classmates had, so why was he different?

he nodded. “kirishima was able to knock me outside the ring, so i had some time to watch you both.”

“kirishima? really? i mean— he’s my friend and i love him, but he beat you? really?”

his eyes closed momentarily as his left hand came up to his face. his fingers traced the scar framing his eye, seemingly subconsciously. you felt rude for watching him so intently but you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the contrast of his bright blue orb compared to the red mark.

only when his eyes met yours did you realize that you had been caught staring. you averted your gaze immediately. you desperately wanted the conversation to continue and you were inwardly scolding yourself when he spoke again.

“he made a comment and i got distracted, so he had an opening. he did put up a pretty good fight before that, though,” he recalled, his gaze flickering toward his hands now clasped in his lap. “i keep getting distracted when my past or family is mentioned, which is starting to mess with my focus and training.”

you swallowed, your chest swelling with pride. out of all people, shouto todoroki had decided to confide in you. while you knew a lot about him, his family and his past, most of the information came from your other classmates or rumors. he, himself, had never really seemed interested in sharing those details with you and you refused to pry.

“what did he say? i’ll beat his ass.”

a laugh. you hoped the surprise you felt wasn’t physically visible. his laughter was rarely shared and you could probably count on one hand how many times you had heard it. you decided right then and there that you would give anything to hear it again and again.

“just something about my left side matching him. you know, with the red all? it was mindless, really. no need to give him a beating on my behalf. he apologized after,” he assured. “i just... i hate that no matter what i do, my father and the family name still has this affect on me.”

his brain was reeling. you could practically see the gears turning and his internal conflict was essentially radiating from his body. eager to offer advice, you had to bite your bottom lip to keep quiet. you wanted to give him some time with his thoughts. you had interrupted him earlier, after all.

you knew about his complicated family dynamic. he inspired you, honestly. despite everything he had experienced so far in his young life, he was still able to be one of the top students. he was still able to get up in the morning and go about his day. other people weren’t that strong.

“i’m going to speak freely for a moment, if you don’t mind,” he didn’t object, so you continued. “no matter how much you wish he wasn’t, endeavor will always be your father. there’s not a single person who wouldn’t agree that your childhood was horrible, but you can’t change what happened.”

he listened, almost clinging to every word, desperate for validation. so you kept going,

“what i’m trying to say is that you’ve come so far. when school started, you were so reserved, obsessing over how your family name defined you. now, i see you laughing with iida and deku during lunch. you use your left side with, what seems like, no hesitation. children can’t choose their parents. you just need to keep proving that you’re better. that you’re able to come out on top. but you have to do it for you.”

you weren’t sure if your words had efficiently conveyed what you truly wanted to say. there was so much more you wanted to tell him. you wanted to praise him, encourage him, let him know that while you two weren’t the closest - you would always be there for him.

but as he remained quiet, you couldn’t help but worry that you had crossed a line. that was it. if your relationship could be considered friendship in the first place, you had definitely ruined it now. each second of silence ensuing was like a stab to your heart, which was already thumping from nervousness, mind you.

“thank you,” it was no louder than a whisper but you heard it clear as day. “i needed— thank you.”

the double-quirked boy wasn’t one to openly show his feelings. everyone knew this. whether he was angry, sad or happy, his face always appeared to successfully hide it. so you pretended not to notice the tears welling up in his eyes, offering him a smile instead.

once again, there was a silence engulfing the two of you. this one, though, wasn’t thick and awkward. it was welcome and comfortable. the kind of silence that happens between best friends and neither one of them mind.

you were the one to break it, albeit involuntarily. you know how bodies do things that you don’t necessarily want them do? yeah, well your body did just that. shouto’s bicolored eyes met with yours as a violent shiver coursed through you. was it really that cold?

he seemed to study you briefly before holding out his arm and angling his body slightly toward you. you weren’t sure if he was just that oblivious or if he was being bold. this time, it was your mind going into overdrive. it seemed innocent enough but you still felt hesitant to accept his offer.

before you were able to either accept or decline, his arm had wrapped around your shoulders. with a gentle tug, you practically fell into his embrace, immediately feeling the warmth from his skin. your tense muscles relaxed and you let his heat melt away your worries.

“my left side’s not all bad, i guess,” he mused and you swore you could hear a smirk. your face was pressed into his chest, making it impossible for you to check.

instead, you readjusted your arm, placing it on his abdomen. he tensed up ever-so-slightly when you did, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt, but neither of you commented on it. his chest continuously rose and fell with each breath, creating a rather comforting rhythm.

“so, what did you think about my fight? did i impress mr. shouto todoroki?”

yet another laugh escaped him, his chest rumbling underneath you. you swore it was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard and it was easily becoming one of your favorites. you would, without hesitation, fight anyone who dared take it away from him.

he began telling you about what he had noticed during your fight and you listened. you knew he was giving honest advice, and honestly, you could probably use the pointers but you found yourself more captivated by his voice than anything else. had it always been this smooth?

your conversations continued. they were random and sometimes one-sided, and you had no idea how they lasted but you didn’t want them to stop. he didn’t either, it seemed, occasionally bringing up new topics himself. they continued long into the night, you were sure.

and, eventually, fatigue caught up to the both of you. the conversations more and more scarce. his breathing growing more and more shallow, barely moving underneath you. your eyelids getting heavier and heavier.

neither one of you retreated to your respective bedrooms. neither one of you moved; your bodies just melting together like missing puzzle pieces finally finding each other. and neither one of you heard the snickers and camera shutters from your classmates in the morning.

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fleursdemeduse · 3 years

Text

Remembrance AU: Everything Is Blue

I've been trying to post these every 30 notes, but that happened within hours on the last post, so I'm sorry for not being done with this sooner and for how rushed it feels.

Warnings: Arguing ; Mention of Death ; Mention of bombs ; Unrequited[?] Love ; Memory Loss ; Slight Stalking ; Angst

Words: 3.7k

You hadn’t spoken to him since that incident after the festival. You knew your harsh words you had all but screamed at him had driven a stake between the two of you. It hurt so much more to think about now. You had berated the brunet when you saw him. He had messed up and you needed to let him know just how much. But when all that had left his lips in response had been a sullen “I’m sorry.”, your anger at him just increased.

“For what? I want to hear you say it.” He didn’t have a right to suddenly look so morose when just minutes earlier, you had found him cackling to himself over plans. Your form had loomed in the doorway of where he kept the wooden desk. You didn’t dare step foot into the room where such a stranger waited. His smile hadn’t been the same one you had known all this time and you actually flinched at the sight of it. You felt like prey. And now, after he had chased after you when you had turned to storm off, he thought he was allowed to look like he had been caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t have been? He had already told you the worst, even if he hadn’t done it.

“Everything.” The answer had caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to be so earnest in his apology. At your lack of a response, he had just shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “I have so much work to do.”

He turned to walk back to his small “office” and you reached out for him. “Wilbur, please-”

“Don’t follow me.” His voice was firm. That had been the first, and only, time he had used such a tone with you, but this had also been the first, and only, time you had yelled at him. You tried to hold back the sound that escaped your lips. You wanted to chase him anyways, but you had a discussion with Technoblade that needed to happen.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to talk to him afterwards. You wanted to mend the great divide that seemed to loom between you two. But he didn’t seem to. He never spoke to you after that. Communication always came from another member; Techno or Tommy, more often than not. And now? Now you would never be able to fix things.

You still remembered the look in Technoblade and Tommy’s eyes when you told them you were on both of their sides. Techno had never once lied to Tommy or Wilbur about never wanting to re-establish L’Manburg, but putting Tubbo in the position of president had been done so fairly democratically. If anyone had had a problem with him inheriting the position, they could have voiced it. Instead everyone had cheered. You couldn’t fight for either side you loved so much when they were both right. Not after watching the third person you held closest to you get slain by the man who was supposed to be his father. You couldn’t lose either of them too.

Techno was a comfortable constant in your world. He was warm, funny, and the friendship between you two only seemed to grow with each passing day. You could ask him for anything in the entire world, and he’d give it to you with very little questions asked. So you helped him leave after Tommy and Tubbo set to rebuild L’Manburg. He was ready to change, he had said so himself. So much violence and carnage had left his hands permanently stained with blood. The voices didn’t help at all. You knew that. If you hadn’t have felt the need to help Tommy and Tubbo with the next phase of their life, you were sure you would have stayed in the arctic with him, away from everything that had happened. He had been more than happy to share the cabin he wanted to build with you. There would be a farm, he said, and animals. Your company was so nice, he wouldn’t mind sharing it every day. But despite how wonderful that offer sounded, you could only remind him that Tommy and Tubbo were still children and required more guidance than he did. He didn’t look happy about it, but let you go anyway with the promise that you’d come visit often.

As if anything could keep you away from your best friend.

When you returned, Tommy had sent you back to Pogtopia to collect the loose odds and ends that had been left there. It wasn’t much, just things that he had thought would help. But he couldn’t leave the process to run the errand. You were more than happy to do it for him. You knew he wouldn’t want the reminder of Wilbur, his mentor and brother in almost every sense of the word, being gone so soon.

When you had descended down the familiar walkways, you marveled at all of the buttons still left there. It felt more like a museum exhibit now than the place where the rebellion had bloomed. Aside from what you pilfered, everything had been, and would remain, untouched. Lingering in each of the “rooms”, memories about all that had happened in such a short amount of time started to haunt the quiet base.

There was a small chest in the corner of your alcove, however. One that hadn’t been there when you had left the night before the final stand for reconnaissance. You had been supposed to report back what you had found, but you had chosen to send Wilbur a message over the comms instead and visit the old library you had once called home rather than return and deliver it orally. Your leader wouldn’t have noticed either way. You were still back in time, so it didn’t matter, even if he had.

You knelt beside the wooden chest, opening it carefully. A sword sat inside, wrapped in a faded and torn brown trench coat. You ran your fingers over the material gently. The one Wilbur had been in during his death was a darker brown and wasn’t as worn. Why he had left it here, in a chest in your room, wrapped around some stupid sword? You pulled out the bundle, carefully unraveling the blade so as to not tear the fabric that held so many memories. lore was inscribed on the handle and you watched the blade shine with purple enchantments. Why in the world was this here? Your lips trembled as you remembered hearing Phil’s murmured recount of what had happened in the button room.

Had Phil not been there, would he have asked you to slay him with the very sword you held?

You dropped the weapon, hands clutching at the fraying fabric of the trench coat now in your lap. You hugged it to your chest, wishing its owner were here instead. It smelled vaguely of dirt and ink and the smallest amount of sap. There was no trace of the gunpowder you remembered perfuming his skin last time you had seen him in it. Was this how he wanted you to remember him? A former president who smelled of the dirt and sap from the country he loved and not the TNT he’d destroyed it with? A poet who spilled ink on himself rather than betrayed his friends? An elder brother who left quiet gifts for his friends and loved ones even if he didn’t know if he’d be able to see them accept it?

Tears stained the fabric as they fell off your chin like the rain that hadn’t seemed to come. Not even the heavens would mourn your friend who had fallen victim to the corruption he had sought to eradicate.

For the first time in a very long time, you felt completely isolated and alone.

L’Manburg rebuilt itself steadily. Phil had been a great asset to everything, and with the efforts of everyone, the place was just as thriving as before. You had made more friends beyond those who had helped in the rebellion. Your relationship with Tubbo growing more and more as time went on. He was a bright spot whenever Tommy or Techno were busy or otherwise couldn’t see you. You may have been close during the time of Pogtopia, but now it felt like you had adopted another little brother. It felt like you had taken the place Wilbur had left.

Tubbo would come over for tea sometimes, advice others, but more often than not, he came with new conversation points and stories about his week. He had been holding out on you. He might have come across as smart before, but the child was a downright mad scientist when he was broken out of his shell. You were glad he had been chosen as the president, even if it kept him so busy. You just hoped the power wouldn’t corrupt him the same as the two that came before him.

A small smile crossed your lips when you saw the boy across the river separating the two of you. You didn’t know he would be out and about today. You had just finished visiting Tommy, in fact. You would have invited him along. You raised your hand to wave but paused. There, peeking out from behind him, was the faded visage of a familiar beanie. Nausea settled in your stomach. Everything suddenly too hot and too cold. That couldn’t have been him.

Cold and empty black eyes turned their attention on you and you were suddenly reminded of a sword wrapped delicately in a warm trench coat tucked safely in your ender chest. You fled before Tubbo could see you too.

You avoided the spirit for weeks. Niki told you of how kind the apparition was when you bought pastries from her. Tommy mumbled about how forgetful the man was whenever you two had your weekly dinner. Techno described to you the odd personality the ghost had taken on whenever around. But you still refused to see him.

He, however, wanted to see you.

He was determined. After you had run from him so many times when he had tried approaching you both directly and indirectly, he sought for alternative methods to see you. The former president found that invisibility potions were the easiest way. He could follow you through the streets discreetly, see the expressions on your face when you talked with your other friends, stare into your eyes when you daydreamed at the docks and imagine you were looking into his once more. If he tried really hard, he could imagine that it was all directed at him.

Ghostbur missed you and he couldn’t remember why you refused to speak to him. You two had been so close. Did Alivebur do something bad to you to make you not want to even look in his direction? You wouldn’t even let him ask.

The rain had finally come around once you had stopped actively mourning. It was ironic, really. You predicted that the storm would be around for at least a few hours. Which was good. Crops needed watering and the air had started to take on a dryness that made your throat parched even with vast amounts of water.

You hadn’t predicted he’d come around with the storm.

Raindrops fell in torrents against the wooden pathways and dirt outside. It was a calming sound. You almost wished for some soft guitar to play an accompaniment to the natural percussion. The thought brought a sour taste to your mouth. Tommy had the instrument now, but the thing was old. Strings were rusted from many nights in the rain without being properly dried and the bridge had shifted from so much neglect. You wondered if the ghost could still play. You’d never find out, but you still crushed the curiosity the moment it had crossed your mind.

A loud knock echoed through your home, disrupting the incomplete symphony and you removed yourself from the warm couch you had been curled upon. You opened the door a little, trying to not flood your home with the storm that unleashed it’s wrath outside. A yellow sweater and red beanie came into view, but they sizzled in the downpour and looked almost like they were melting. Tubbo had told you of his weakness to water, why was he out in this weather? Why was he at your door?

“It’s pouring rain, what are you doing here?” You hadn’t meant for your tone to be as icy as it was.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You took a small breath, closing your eyes as you tried to talk yourself out of allowing him inside. The small hiss of rain hitting his jumper filled your ears and you released the breath in a sigh as you failed to convince yourself. The door swung open wider and you stood to the side. After a moment, you looked at him again.

“Get in here before I leave you out there.” You watched the ghost scramble to rush out of the rain, and you watched him silently for a moment before closing the door behind him. Brushing past the ghost, you walked to your kitchen. You hoped some tea would soothe your nerves and the ghost would be quiet. Phil had given you a small bag of chamomile herbal tea that had lavender buds in it. He said it was to help with sleep and reduce stress and you couldn’t help but think he had gifted it to you for this exact moment.

You waited for the water to heat on the furnace. Once the bubbles slowly grew and rose to the surface, you pulled the pot off and turned before startling. Wilbur had been right behind you, watching the water as well. You recognized the feeling of hot pain quickly grow on your chest and you gasped, setting down the pot on the counter as you moved to pull your shirt away from the scarred flesh to prevent further scalding. Wilbur had yelped as well, some of the water having sloshed onto him. You looked up to him, eyes wide when you saw his arm start to melt.

“Sorry, are you-” The words died on your tongue when his eyes met yours however. The feeling of crying immediately replaced your concern. You missed his brown eyes. The ones that looked into yours so attentively when you were talking. The ones that flashed with his emotions, even when they were kept off of his face. The ones that looked like melted honey in the sunlight and rich chocolate in the torchlight. You hadn’t realized your vision had become blurry with unshed tears until you watched the grey blob of his hand put something into your own.

“Have some blue. It’ll be okay.” You stared at the mass in your hand, the small blue pile growing darker and darker. You looked up at the ghost, confused. “It’s blue!”

“Yeah, Wilbur. It is.”

“No, no it’s called blue. It starts out translucent and then slowly turns blue as it absorbs your sadness!” You scoffed, setting it on the counter next to the pot.

“Obviously it doesn’t work.”

“It does! You’re not gonna cry anymore, are you?” You turned to look at him again, freezing when you saw his smile. That stupid smile that shouldn’t have been so wide on his ashen face. You shook your head, turning back to put the water into your mug. It had cooled a little, but that was alright. It would brew okay still.

“Why are you here, Wilbur?”

“I told you, I didn’t know where else to go.” You slammed the pot onto the counter with a little more force than was probably necessary.

“But why me? You finally want to talk to me now? After everything you’ve done?” You spun on your heel to glare at the ghost that floated in your kitchen. The water on your shirt was cold now and sticking to you, but your face felt so hot. His smile dropped from his face and he looked stricken.

“I did something to you?” You bit your lip, feeling your throat tighten. How could he not remember?

“You ignored me for so long, Wilbur! I tried so hard to make things up to you after our fight, and what do I get? A stupid sword and a coat with too many memories attached. Like that would ever make up for anything! You know what?” You reached into the ender chest that sat in on the counter, throwing the bundle at him. “Why don’t you have it back, then? Load of good it does me!” You sniffled, feeling tears prick your eyes. You laughed a little, wiping at them with the back of your hands. “I feel so stupid. I missed you so much and yet you’re right here in front of me. So why doesn’t it feel like you’re you? Why doesn’t any of this make me feel better?”

The feeling of something cold touched your cheek. It was like cool morning mist before the dew and it felt nice against your flushed skin. You felt your lips tremble when you realized the ghost was holding your cheek just like he had the night before the festival. They didn’t smell like anything this time.

“Because I’m not Alivebur. I’m Ghostbur. We’re different.” You heard the sound of your tears fall against his hand before you felt them, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “I don’t remember what happened between us before he died, but I do remember you were very important to him, [y/n]. You’re very important to me.”

“You don’t remember anything?” You sniffled, starting to move away from his touch. His hand dropped back to his side.

“I remember a lot of things, but I don’t remember why you’re mad at me.” A half-laugh tumbled from your lips, but it sounded more like air than anything.

“I wasn’t truly mad at you until you blew up everything and died, Wilbur,” You paused. “-Ghostbur. What do you actually remember, then?”

You didn’t miss how the correction made a smile bloom once more on his lips.

"I remember saying I'd die for you multiple times." A snort escaped you and you shook your head, pressing a hand to your mouth and looking away from the apparition before you.

"I didn't think you meant literally. That was always my job, wasn’t it?” You felt him pull away your hand gently and hold it. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant, but you didn’t like it. His touch lacked the soft tangibility it once had and it was just another painful reminder.

“Let’s go sit on the couch. I want to talk to you again. I want to catch up.”

You nodded, your tears starting to dry a little.

He guided you to your living room, perching himself on the sofa before waiting for you to sit as well. The air felt tense as he pulled you into a conversation. After a while, the wind and rain slowed and were a quiet hum compared to the easy laughter and sweet smiles you two shared. You avoided the heavy topics. The ones that would make this kind dream dissolve back into the harsh reality that awaited you later when you couldn’t pretend like nothing had happened. Once the lull on his side of the conversation lasted too long, however, you turned to look at him. You were met with a warm gaze that held the spark of something you didn’t even know could present itself in the dead eyes of your once dear friend.

“[Y/n]?” You hummed in response. “I’m so glad I came here. You make me feel alive. For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe. It feels like everything was so devoid of colour, I didn’t know what it meant until now.”

You laughed a little. “That’s not my doing, ‘bur.”

Ghostbur stood and moved to look out your window, watching the sun slowly set. You hadn’t realized the storm had stopped until you saw the golden light wash him in a warm glow that made him a vision to behold.

“[y/n]?” You hummed again, reaching to finish your tea that had been remade over the hours. “Why didn’t you love me?”

Your heart stalled in your chest. You turned your head and watched the ghost slowly turn to you and you furrowed your eyebrows. What was he talking about? “Please don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you didn’t know.” Your mouth was dry, but you set the mug back down.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ghostbur. We were friends. Of course I loved you.” He shook his head.

“Not in the way that I wanted. I-” You watched him fish some blue out of his pocket and play with it. “I really loved you, [y/n]. I wanted you to be by my side through everything. But when you seemed to continuously choose Technoblade, I felt like I couldn’t say anything. Now, you’re hurt by what Alivebur did. I know other people haven’t truly forgiven me for what he did. I haven’t either. And I don’t like hearing about it, but it still hurts.” He looked so sad, the blue in his hands growing darker and darker. “We can’t even be together now because I’m a ghost.”

Suddenly his eyes lit up like he had remembered something. You watched him immediately turn and make his way to the door. Navy blue pieces forgotten on your floor. “That’s it! There’s so much work to do.”

The memory of soft apologies spoken in a ravine echoed in your ears. Your heart picked up speed and you stood, reaching out for him as if to stop him as he pulled open your front door. “Ghostbur, please-”

“Don’t follow me.”

How many times would you have to hear that before the words didn’t hurt anymore?

#RemembranceAU #dsmp au #dream smp au #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #unrequited feelings #tw: arguing #tw: death #tw: bomb #tw: memory loss #tw: stalking #angst

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amiedala · 3 years

Text

SOMETHING DEEPER

CHAPTER 4: An Open Wound

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, canon-compliant violence, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of past abuse/trauma

SUMMARY: “I don’t expect you to follow what I say. I’m not a dictator, and I have no interest in becoming one. But if a single one of you brings danger to this planet you claim to love to hurt me or my wife,” Din continues, and the way his lips shape around the word wife makes something warm and wet unhinge in Nova, “there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide from me.”

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello my loves and happy Something Deeper Saturday! this chapter is truly a whirlwind, it's hard and sweet and intense and simple all at once. there are very graphic descriptions of violence and death in the one (in the form of Force visions, no one's actually dying, I PROMISE!!!), so please be aware that there is potentially triggering material in what you're about to read. it mentions past abuse and dives pretty deep into current violence, so please just read with caution! i hope you enjoy this journey—i certainly did writing it! more notes at the end!!! <3

Mandalore isn’t a ghost town.

Not how Nova originally thought, anyway. The throne room is filled with wary, armored people. Some are the guards that usually stand watch outside, through the giant palace doors. Nova recognizes Koska Reeves and Axe Woves from the brief, charged encounters she’s had with each of them. Bo-Katan is there, of course, regal and pristine, her shoulders pushed back, her red hair impeccable. There are a handful of villagers that Nova’s seen in passing, but besides the few faces she recognizes, most of the people gathered in the throne room have been hidden somewhere on Mandalore, away from this strange Capitol, away from the everyday. Half of them are without armor, without impressive beskar helmets to hide their wary expressions. Bo-Katan’s icy, measured gaze is clearly a popular currency on Mandalore, because every single person in this room looks skeptical at best and enraged at worst. Nova keeps her eyes on Din, who’s decided to stand at the helm of the dais instead of taking a seat on the beskar throne, watching his every movement to ensure he’s safe up there, and that he stays unharmed.

“I want...to be your leader,” Din says, his voice quiet but earnest. He sounds like he’s incredulous at his own words, like he’s reading off a script he’s never seen before. But there’s power hidden underneath whatever’s scaring him, an undercurrent that Nova knows is unfettered, genuine passion. “I wasn’t raised in the way of Mandalore. Not in the ways that you were—”

“Clearly,” Koska whispers, and the Mnadalorians standing closest to her proximity offer uncharacteristic smiles and snorts. Nova steps forward, but Bo-Katan raises her sharp hand at her side, and they immediately fall silent.

Din looks back at Nova, and for the first time, she can see the fear in his eyes. She nods, encouragingly, even though she has absolutely no clue what point he’s trying to make. Every time she closes her eyes, even if it’s only for a heartbeat, she sees the strange, young hologram of her face, with the word MURDER, MURDER, MURDER flashing back at her, a ceaseless and terrible pattern. Nervously, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, realizing that she’s the only person in this room who isn’t outfitted in Mandalorian regalia. Her black shirt has remnants of dust on the sleeves from the amphitheater. Her pants saw their best days weeks ago. Her shawl, the only proof that she wears any sort of allegiance to the throne, Mandalorian blue and regal, is thrown haphazardly over her rounded shoulders. The boots on her feet are older than her relationship with Din, picked up planets and planets ago, somewhere sunny and warm and an entire lifetime away. When Din’s panicked brown eyes find hers again, Nova smiles, taking a half-step forward, trying to portray anything other than her own frenzied state, the hammering heartbeat that could likely be heard outside of the palace.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Din finally continues, turning back to the crowd. Even from this angle, with most of his face obscured, Nova knows how hard it is for him to stand here, in front of dozens of people, without his helmet, how many rules he thinks he’s breaking, how this must feel like agony. He reaches for the Darksaber hanging on his belt, and when it ignites, every single face in the room is on Din, on that horrific, captivating blade of electricity and death. “I won this in battle. Twice. Both were accidents,” He inhales heavily, studying the flickering, wicked blade. “But they still happened. I wasn’t born on Mandalore. I wasn’t raised here, either. I’ve given some of you this speech before, when I first took the throne.” He exhales through his nose, and Nova wets her dry lips. Her throat feels like the middle of the day on Tatooine, parched and treacherous. “I...I am not a Mandalorian in the way that you’re Mandalorians.” Nova chances another half-step forward, letting the captive, tensioned room blur in her vision as she just focuses on Din. There’s a tremor in his voice, something alive and unsteady, something she only notices because she’s spent over a year studying every inch of him, memorizing Din right down to his bloodstream. “I follow a Creed that you don’t. I’ve spent most of my life trying...trying to be a good soldier, a true Mandalorian. I know I’m not the leader you wanted. I’m not even sure if I’m the leader I wanted. But I’m the one we’ve got, at least for right now. And—” Din exhales sharply, his breath strained, and Nova knows he’s suppressing a sigh, “I swear, I will try my best to do right by this planet. But—but I’m not only the reigning Mand’alor. I’m—”

“Right,” Axe interjects, but there's no malice in his tone. Nova stiffens, crossing her arms over her chest, staring over at him. But he doesn’t look threatening. His smile seems genuine, like he;s just attempting to get Din to lighten up. “And a bounty hunter. A damn good one, at that. He’s caught me twice.”

“Three times,” Nova corrects, and her eyes go wide when she realizes that everyone’s attention is now on her. “But,” she continues, rather nervously, trying to square back her shoulders in a shoddy imitation of Bo-Katan to not display that nervousness, “Din hasn’t been just a bounty hunter in a long time.”

Din sheathes the Darksaber, and instead turns his outstretched hand to Nova. Heart pounding, she slides her hand into his large, gloved one, trying not to show the massive tremble in her fingers. Quietly, he reaches for the Skywaker lightsaber hanging from her belt, and when Nova hesitates, he lets her hand close over the grip instead. Bo-Katan moves forward, so quickly Nova doesn’t even notice, and when she ignites the crisp, illuminated blue blade, half of the people gathered in the throne room draw a weapon. Nova’s expecting Bo-Katan to do the same, but she raises one impeccable eyebrow and turns back towards the room.

“Stop,” she says, and immediately, the majority of the room lowers whatever weapon of choice they’re gripping. Nova manages a tiny, stuttered breath. “She’s not going to hurt us.”

“She,” a voice says from the back of the room, “is wanted by multiple parties. Contacts all over the galaxy will pay a pretty price for Andromeda Maluev, you know. I accepted the cult member as Mand’alor. I accepted you standing down from the throne, Bo-Katan. I will not accept harboring a criminal,” he continues, voice as icy as Hoth, “and a Jedi, at that.”

Din moves forward, all tension, all rage, but Bo-Katan holds up that same, steady hand, and the man making his way across the foreground halts in the same beat that Din does. Nova pulls her own lightsaber back, pocketing it, pulling the shawl higher over her shoulders, trying to unclench her jaw before all of her teeth break off in her mouth. She’s tired. So tired. Exhausted, slogging through this conversation, her heartbeat accelerating, stars shooting out behind her eyes. And still, this time, when she closes them, all she sees is MURDER, MURDER, MURDER.

“Her name,” Bo-Katan returns, measured and cool, “is Novalise Djarin. And yes, she is wanted by both the scum that still survived after the Empire’s demise, and a middleman somewhere in between which we cannot identify yet. Yes, she is a Jedi, or at least is certainly heading in that way. Yes, I stood down from the title. But that wasn’t because I was weak, or because I wanted them on the throne.”

“Bo-Katan—”

“Nova,” Bo-Katan interjects, “I’ve got this.” She steps off the lowest stair on the dias, posture perfect, right arm curled around her distinctive helmet. Everything in her screams royalty, regality. Behind her eyes is a fire so much stronger than the ice in her voice. “I didn’t want this. Neither did you. But Din won the Darksaber, fair and square. And Mandalore isn’t what it used to be. None of us are, either. We’re good at surviving, but we’re even better at fighting. And I believe,” she says, pointedly, glancing over at Din, who’s still coiled in an attack position, “that was the point our Mand’alor was getting to. So let him finish. With your mouths closed.”

The man who spoke, wizened but grizzled, exhales angrily through his nose, but his mouth stays clamped shut. Bo-Katan stands at attention, nodding back at Din.

“War is coming,” Din continues stiffly, and half of the people crowded around the room roll their eyes or mutter under their breath.

“War is always coming,” another woman enunciates, “it’s what the galaxy knows best.”

“War is coming,” Din repeats, and Nova has to force herself to unfurl her palms. Before she can even try to jump to his aid, though, he walks down the steps and presses his flat palm against the holotable. Reflected in the glittering dome above them is thousands of pixels of blue light. Nova’s juvenile mugshot is up there for the entire room to see, but so are statistics from every mission they’ve engaged in, anything even remotely related to the Order. Hundreds of faces swarm the screen, all with interwoven lines connecting them to other profiles and rotating planets. There, at the center of the screen, is the First Order’s name in menacing, large letters. Underneath are the silhouettes of Luke, Nova, and Grogu. When Din opens his mouth this time, his words are vivid and clear. “I know that Mandalore has been razed and sieged. I know that in your eyes, I’m not one of you. I know that none of you signed up for another battle. But I also know that fighting,” Din says, his voice weary, but his dark eyebrow raised, “is what’s in our blood. All of us.”

“I won’t follow a ruler who isn’t a true Mandalorian,” the same man finally continues. He steps towards them, and his face is angry and ghastly in the flickering blue light. His rage is barely concealed, and Nova’s hand flies unconsciously to the lightsaber hanging from her belt. “And I certainly won’t protect a Jedi who doesn’t belong here.”

“Well, then,” Nova says, and she’s so bone-dead tired that she doesn’t realize she’s the one who’s speaking until the second word is out of her mouth, “good thing I can protect myself.” She chances a glance at Din, who could very easily be aggravated at her stoking the fire. The only thing written across his face, though, is pride. Nova’s eyes flicker over to Bo-Katan, who is somehow, unbelievably, wearing the same exact expression.

Din slams his fist down on the holotable, sending all of the blue light back into the atmosphere it came from. The low light of the war room is returned to its usual state, but no one speaks. “I don’t expect you to follow what I say. I’m not a dictator, and I have no interest in becoming one. But if a single one of you brings danger to this planet you claim to love to hurt me or my wife,” Din continues, and the way his lips shape around the word wife makes something warm and wet unhinge in Nova, “there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide from me.”

Still, no one moves.

“Mand’alor,” Bo-Katan snaps, icily, all of her usual vigor and venom back in her voice, and it’s like she’s given an order no one can deny. Half of the Mandalorians nod in wary agreement, and the other half keep their low mumbles close to their chests, all of them shuffling out of the throne room, presumably to disperse outside. When the heavy door closes shut, with only the three of them remaining, Bo-Katan turns back to Nova. Din is already climbing the steps back up the dais where the menacing beskar throne sits to retrieve his fallen helmet. When he pulls it back over his handsome face, it’s like closing an open wound.

Nova looks at Bo-Katan, who doesn’t look nearly as threatening in this low light. Her hair is slightly ruffled, and the hard set of her jaw is tense, electric. “Bo-Katan,” Nova whispers, and her gaze snaps impeccably back to Nova’s. “Thank you,” Nova continues, earnest, “for defending me. Defending us. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” Bo-Katan counters, but there’s the ghost of a small smile on her beautiful, cold face. “They were wrong, and they needed to hear that. See? I’m not always a total bitch.”

The word—so commonplace, so foreign—sounds absolutely ludicrous coming out of her mouth that it makes Nova laugh out loud. The sound is both musical and jarring, and the tension held in Bo-Katan’s shoulders evaporates, even if it’s only momentarily.

“Noted,” Nova says, smiling. Maker and all the stars above, she’s exhausted. Bo-Katan glances back at Din, armored and impenetrable, and then back at Nova.

“You need sleep,” Bo-Katan allows, pulling her own helmet back over her head. “Both of you. I’ll stay down here and monitor any incoming correspondence. I’m too wired to go to bed anytime soon.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” Bo-Katan interrupts, and her usual edge is back in her tone. “And I will. Go.” She raises that commanding arm again, and Nova’s too exhausted to resist. She wants to take a shower and wash the last few days off of her, and then sleep for three more. Her scar hurts. Her shoulders ache. Her head feels impossibly heavy. Silently, she lets Din lead her over to the heavy double doors, her ears buzzing with fatigue, but before they step into the hall, Nova hears her name chase her across the war room. In tandem, she and Din turn, watching Bo-Katan ignite the blue holotable. There’s something unreadable about her, even under the helmet. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bo-Katan says, finally, and the heaviness of her words is louder than the doors when they close on her impenetrable face.

Steam from the shower fills the entire fresher. It’s wet and hot, the humidity seeping deep into Nova’s skin, burrowing under the residual ache from the last few days, nestling between her cold bones from the chill back on Ahch-To, the frigidity back on Hoth. Din joins her once he wrestles off the rest of the armor, and before Nova can explain she wants him, but it’s impossible right now with how exhausted she is, how she can barely keep her eyes open, Din wordlessly lathers up his hands with her favorite, clean-smelling soap, gently raking the suds through her hair.

Nova sighs in the silence, letting her shoulders hunch over, her body weight alleviated by sagging against the warm shower walls and by the soft grip Din has on her arms, making sure she stays upward. For what feels like years, they stand together under the warm running water, reveling in the steam, the heat, without either of them needing to say anything. Din wraps Nova’s long hair up in the freshly washed towel, while she dries off the residual runoff down her arms, her thighs.

The room is cool and dark in the blue twilight, that same fog and haze sinking over the horizon. Wherever the rest of the Mandalorians went, they’ve all but disappeared off the face of the planet. Everything is an eerie kind of quiet, no bugs, no animals, no clamor, nothing that signifies any kind of sentient life outside of the castle. Most nights, that kind of awful silence makes Nova wired, like it permeates even into her dreams, but not here, not now. She has what feels like years’ worth of sleep to catch up on, and the second that Din pulls back the fluffy, silk comforter on their giant bed, Nova steps out of the towel and into the soft cocoon. Din’s barely even settled up behind her before she drifts off somewhere peaceful, somewhere that’s not here.

She sleeps. For hours, maybe days, Nova sleeps. It’s dreamless and empty, warm and safe. Usually, nightmares flicker and flash through her mind, her legs sprinting away from whatever menace or threat is chasing her, but not tonight. Nothing wakes Nova up, not the strange quiet, not Din tossing next to her, not the immeasurable weight of saving the galaxy on her shoulders. She sleeps, uninterrupted and powerfully, swaddled up under the light blue blankets that are somehow keeping all the bad things away.

In the end, it’s not a nightmare that startles her away, nor is it Din’s unshaven face pressing into the crook of her neck. It’s the sleepy, quiet beeping of her commlink, which has somehow been removed from its usual place on her wrist and is buried under the extra pillows that stand sentinel over their bed when neither Nova or Din is there.

Din, at this very moment, is also nowhere to be found, and Nova rakes a hand through her hair, tries and fails to suppress a yawn, and digs through the array of pillows on the floor until she can see the bright, red light. “Hello?” she asks, her voice still off somewhere in dreamland, and she rubs sleep from her eyes as she collapses down on the bed, body still stuck in sleep.

“Hey,” Nova hears, and it’s halfway through another yawn before she realizes it’s Cara calling. “Listen, I’d love to actually catch up, but—”

“You have news?” Nova asks, suddenly wide awake. She smooths the comforter out under her hand, crossing one of her legs underneath the other. Outside, the sky is dark.

“I have news,” Cara confirms, grimly. “I know Wedge called you to Hoth a week or so ago because there was a prison break somewhere outside of my jurisdiction.”

Nova nods before she remembers Cara can’t see her. “Yeah,” she adds, belatedly. “Yeah, but no one seemed suspicious or in league with the Order, and it was a holding cell full of minor offenders, so it was kind of a dead end.”

“Well, it was,” Cara sighs, “until it wasn’t. We were right, kind of, because no one who escaped was linked to the First Order. But the night after that prison break happened, your photo with your old name and manufactured crimes popped up as a hit from the Guild.”

Nova’s heart sinks. Something suffocating is blocking her airway, and she tries to swallow past the feeling before she can exhale. “What does that mean?” she manages, barely, hand fluttering around her necklace, pressing into the embossed star.

“Someone’s setting you up,” Cara continues, and her voice is gentler than Nova’s ever heard it. “Someone who likely knows you or Din, knows how to get under your skin. The reason why this is so dangerous is because whoever did it knows exactly what they’re doing. I’ve tried, and Karga has tried, but we can’t even identify where the hit originated from, let alone who put it out. We’re not going to stop looking, but it’s going to be hard to figure out who did it. And because the warrant is for you alive or dead…” Cara trails off, the silence buzzing and dangerous.

Nova closes her eyes before she fills in the blanks. “I’m going to be in danger anywhere I go.”

“Listen,” Cara tries, but it’s too late. Nova’s still exhausted, she’s in pain, she has no idea where Din went, and all she wants to do is to bury her face in Grogu’s head and smell his sweet, reassuring baby smell. Her heart aches. “Novalise, I’m not going to let them get to you. You have some of the strongest forces in the galaxy who’ve got your back.”

“Yeah,” Nova whispers, “and I appreciate that, Cara, I do, so much, but—but Mandalore isn’t exactly a safe haven, either. The planet knows I can use the Force, and besides that, most of the people Din’s supposed to be ruling hate our guts. I’m not scared of being left to defend myself, because it’s kind of what I’ve learned to be best at. But with what you’re telling me, there’s not a single safe place left in the galaxy for me right now.”

Cara’s silence is deafening. Nova’s heart sinks just a little bit deeper, swimming around somewhere in her stomach. “It’s not forever,” she says, but her voice is a little too glum to be anywhere near reassuring.

“I’m so tired,” Nova admits, feeling tears bubbling up at the corners of her eyes. “And I can’t rest, because that’s when someone can get me. I mean—what would you do, if you were me, Cara?”

Nova can hear Cara moving, a soft rustle underneath the comm. When she speaks again, her voice is low and clear, like she’s telling a secret that only Nova can hear. “I would do what we both know you’re going to do. You’re the rebel girl, remember?” She pauses. “So rebel.”

Nova watches as the comm clicks off, everything in her body electric, a live wire. Before she can bolt to Kicker, or try to find where Din’s hidden in the chambers of the palace, or call Wedge and tell him she’s coming back to Hoth, the door opens, and Din walks in.

“Hi,” Nova breathes, suddenly very aware she’s not wearing any clothes, which is completely ridiculous, because Din has seen, ravaged, and worshipped every inch of it. “Where were you?”

She watches as Din crosses over the floor, the low light of the day catching on his armor. He sighs, moving closer to Nova until he’s standing in between her open legs. Halfheartedly, he hooks his fingers under the rim of the helmet, but gives up completely the second Nova’s hands reach to pull it off instead. Underneath, his mustache isn’t manicured, his hair has been weighed down by the metal, and he looks about as exhausted as she feels.

“Ruling,” Din says, tiredly, and there’s a flint to it Nova hardly hears. He lets out a small scoff in the silence, and she reaches out the smooth palm of her right hand for his cheek to nestle against. “Trying to get the people of this planet to recognize I’m not here to destroy it, or that you—we’re not the enemy.” He catches his slip almost as quickly as it comes out of his mouth, but still, Nova’s heart sinks deep down in her chest again. “I didn’t—look, Nova, I’m not blaming you—”

“It’s okay,” she whispers, even though they both know it’s not. For a second, Din just stares at her, and then he presses his forehead against hers. The warmth his skin gives off is almost enough to make her forget about where they are, about the people that refuse to see her as an ally, about having to save the galaxy from forces that want her dead or for their own malicious intent. “They’ll come around,” she offers, her voice barely there, and Din shakes his head, his hair rustling against Nova’s forehead.

“What if they don’t?” Din asks, and by the weight in his voice, it’s clear he’s not just talking about Mandalore accepting her as the Mand’alor’s riduur, as an ally, as on their side, but about the infiltrated Guild that’s out to kill her, and the First Order that’s out for worse.

Nova’s quiet for a long time, just listening to him breathe, trying to map both of their heartbeats, yearning for the constellations hiding above the hazy Mandalore sky. “What if we can’t do it?” she whispers, her mouth hollow, her head aching. “Any of this? What if we can’t pull this off, Din?” She doesn’t point out the specifics, the weight of planets hanging over both of their heads. They both know what she means. The silence is horrible, but Nova keeps her eyes closed, just like she used to, predicting every move Din will make in the dark.

“Then we don’t,” Din breathes back, and Nova’s about to resist, tears springing back to life in her eyes, and then Din’s mouth is on hers and nothing else matters. She lets him sprawl her back on the bed, the smooth satin coaxing and cool under her skin. Stars are burning out behind her eyes, the same celestial imprints that flood through hyperspace, something more, something deeper, something beyond this planet, this moment, this darkness. When Din’s mouth leaves Nova’s, her eyes stay shut, and his lips trail down to her ear. “I’d give everything else up but you.”

They both know he’s lying—Din’s heart is too big, Nova’s purpose is too bright—but neither of them say it out loud. Nova keeps his words in the hollow of her mouth, something shiny and devastating, a supernova or a pearl.

Din kisses Nova like he’s never had her before, low and desperate. It’s an echo of what happened in the amphitheater just hours ago, but it’s sustained, huge, warm. His mouth is made to devour, and if he’s whispering anything to feel the silence, Nova can’t hear it. She’s focused on where his kisses are trailing, desperate and hot and everything she didn’t know she needed. It’s freezing in here, but he’s so warm, his body heat louder than the cold.

“Kiss me,” Din whispers, his voice rough, a plea. One of his hands comes up and braces against Nova’s chin, not an order, but a question. She reaches towards his neck, trying to pull him down, to anchor their bodies together. It’s dark in their room. Without the stars shining above, it’s even darker.

She’s so tired. Still, even after all that rest, it’s like the exhaustion has permeated Nova straight down to her bones. She shudders and sighs as Din moves down her naked body, his lips planting kisses that she doesn’t know she needs until he’s already there. It’s easy and devastating and wonderful and crushing all at once. When Nova tries to return the favor, Din gently pushes her down, mumbling something about taking care of her.

It’s sweet. So sweet, even, that she’s on the verge of tears. Nova would do anything to stay here forever, to feel her husband’s lips on her bare skin, washing away all of the horror, the trauma, the darkness. She doesn’t open her eyes, even though she wants to. Din’s spent so much time without his helmet to appear like one of the people that call themselves Mandalorians, and she wants to give him back every single second of the time that prying eyes stole away.

Before long, Nova’s already close—her orgasm bubbling up quietly, without fanfare, without dramatics, just because Din knows exactly how to make her body sing—and when she taps at his arm to let him know, his mouth unlatches from the small hickies he’s leaving on the terrain of her bare stomach, and moves in between her thighs.

Effortlessly, he hold her legs up, hooking both of them around his shoulders so that his tongue can stay anchored in place. Nova moans, a quiet, radiant thing, and Din’s tongue finds exactly where she needs it to go. It pulses there, on the sweetest of spots, over and over again until she’s finished.

Breathless, she claws at his pants again, but Din shakes his head, his mouth dropping to her forehead as he pulls her into bed. “Rest, Nova,” he whispers, his voice faraway, a deep rumble. He pulls her in against his body, warm and soothing, and both of them are out before their heads hit their pillow.

Din’s asleep next to her, his slow, even breaths barely anything even in all the silence. Nova wants to fall back to sleep, but she knows she can’t. Her heartbeat is running itself rampant, and she’s a tangle of wants and needs, everything pulled in opposite directions. As quietly as she can, she slides herself out from the protective warmth of Din’s arms and the comforter, gently placing her feet on the floor. Even in the cool darkness of the night, her wardrobe, sleek but huge, has nothing but clothes in the same shades of Mandalorian blue, of beskar silver, but right now, Novalise doesn’t want to be a Mandalorian. She doesn’t want to be royalty, doesn’t want to be a figurehead. She doesn’t exactly want to be a Rebel either, because both titles mean the ultimate fate of the Outer Rim and beyond in her hands, so she settles for somewhere in between.

When she’s all dressed—black monochrome right down to her scuffed boots, in a weak imitation of the Luke Skywalker style—she braids the top half of her hair back, sleek and functional, and chooses a shawl buried at the back of her closet, underneath all of the Mandalorian haze of clothing. It’s a stormy grey that shimmers with the silver her husband wears when the fabric catches the light. If you pay close enough attention to the shawl, small, intentional stitches of rust and orange are woven into the fabric, hidden, furious, tiny flames.

Not exactly Mandalorian, but not entirely Rebel, either. And when Nova looks at herself in the mirror, studying the way her eyes flash with all that fire she was so certain was gone a few minutes ago, she sees herself right down to the quick, the high wire in between—she looks something like a Jedi.

So she pulls the Skywalker family lightsaber out of the hook on her door and pulls it to her belt loop, watching as the metal sways and dances in the low light. The weapon seems ancient, like something from another world. Something holy, even though she knows Luke Skywalker is a man and not a myth.

When she closes the bedroom door behind her, Din doesn’t even move. Usually, Nova’s the loud and clumsy one, worlds more obnoxious than Din’s practiced quiet, but she’s grown into her stealth over the last few weeks, especially living here, in a palace that has more rooms than the planet does people. It’s strange and eerie here at night, down the sprawling marble stairs, and she takes the first corridor she can find, just trying to walk off some of the pressure, to put her head back on her shoulders.

It’s lit only by candlelight, an archaic, flickering warmth, so in contrast to the rest of the steel and metal that Mandalore is made up of. It’s like she’s stepped into something that’s been around for years, even though she knows that it’s not possible. Mandalore was sieged, usurped, sieged again, razed and brought to the ground, destroyed. The planet’s atmosphere is mostly ash and haze, all that leftover war from years ago. But this part of the palace looks older, like a tomb that somehow survived.

It’s too creepy, Nova decides, even though the curious part of her is itching to explore it. She wants to pore through every aspect of it, try to find remnants of lost Mandalore, like her father used to unearth texts, like her mother used to excavate history. Before the war, before the Alliance was necessary, before all this death and darkness. When Nova comes out the other end of the corridor, she’s right next to the intimidating double doors of the war room, the holiest place Mandalore has. She pulls her shawl a little closer to her body, trying to retain the warmth she left back upstairs, trying to hold onto a memory more than anything tangible.

Nova isn’t intending to slip into the war room, let alone walk towards the sprawling dais that holds the beskar throne, but she does. It’s still quiet, so quiet, and the dark is coaxing her closer, pulling her up the steps, something beyond a simple want or need. She has the sneaking suspicion that she’s not supposed to be in here, not this late, not without Din, not when she has no legal or physical right to this place, but when she sits down on the throne, something deeper echoes out from within her chest.

It feels like a hymn and a battle cry. Before she has a second to adjust, to rationalize anything, everything becomes starry and disconnected. It’s been so long since she had a Force vision this immediate, this intense, and it hurls her through the proverbial hyperspace, everything dropping away.

It takes three steps forward in this strange, terrifying liminal space before Nova can even identify what’s scaring her. It’s the same kind of evil she felt way back on Takodana, before she was married to the ruler of a planet, before she even knew it was her destiny to be both Rebel and Jedi. There’s a mask she doesn’t recognize, twisted and devious. Behind its menacing, blank expression is something horrifying. Looking into the visor, it’s like her own soul is being fractured into pieces.

It’s humanoid until it’s not. The figure wearing the mask of destruction is tall, easily a foot taller than she is, horrible and menacing. But when the lightsaber they’re using ignites, it’s scarier than the vision of the person at all. It’s awful. It looks like it was forged out of lava, menacing red, the blade flickering and hissing in a way that’s somehow even more terrifying than the stark contrast of the Darksaber’s blade. Nova gasps, the light too bright, too sudden, and she can feel the residual thud on the floor, even in the vision. She knows when she comes out of it, she’ll be hurt, but the blade is getting closer. It looks like a giant rapier, a sword made only for evil things. At the hilt, spraying out in both directions, the blade extends. When the figure in the mask swings, it’s without remorse, so quick, so terrible.

But Nova’s not the target. She rolls away, out of the strike zone, and then she hears Luke Skywalker’s voice cutting through the darkness. She turns, and suddenly she’s not in the horror of the vision, anymore. She doesn’t know where she is. The ground looks icy, like Hoth, but there’s red powder spit everywhere, vomited across giant salt deposits. It’s so bright that her hand comes up in front of her eyes, and when she lowers it, Luke is gone. She’s gone, too. She turns around, hair whipping in the furious wind, trying to find where her name is being cried, and she trips over a mound on the salty ground, and when she falls to her knees, it’s a person, newly slain. The blood is so red, redder than the powder, redder than the evil lightsaber. It drowns through the lines on her hands, slips through her long fingers. She screams, trying to back up from the body, and then she realizes it’s Bo-Katan, gurgling through the slit in her throat, and when Nova tries desperately, in vain, to buffer the blood spilled, Luke Skywalker calls her name again.

But it’s not Luke. It is him—for a second, for the tiniest fraction of a moment—but then it’s not. His lightsaber floods with red, cancelling out the green light. The hallway flickers, once, twice, and then Darth Vader is charging towards her, and all Nova can hear is her blood pounding frantically in her ears and his heavy breathing through his mask, the sound that used to fill all of her nightmares. She’s slamming on the door at the other end of the hallway, and when it opens, the only person standing there isn’t a person at all, but a small alien baby all of two feet tall, green and adorable, and Nova drops her body around her son, protective and sobbing, curling every single inch of her around his tiny little frame, trying to shield him from Vader’s wrath, but when she cries, the vision changes again.

She can feel the motion sickness bubbling up in her stomach, horrible and nauseating. When Nova lands, she doesn’t open her eyes. She’s seen more than enough. Even right now, in the middle of her Force vision, all she wants to do is go back to sleep. She can feel the ache she slept away burrowing right back into her bones. Her scar is pulsing, enraged and angry. The headache she spent the last two and a half weeks fighting off is back, radiating straight down to behind her left eye. It’s all too much, and she can’t look. She doesn’t want to see anything else.

“Novalise,” she hears again, and the only reason she opens her eyes this time is because it’s her mother speaking. Her mother, who only ever called her Andromeda. Her mother, who spent half her life in the stars. Her mother, long dead. Her mother, who never got to know this version of her daughter, this Jedi-in-training, royal Rebel Girl that just desperately needs a hug from her mom.

“Mom,” she cries, and it’s so white. Everything here is antiseptic and deafening. It doesn’t even look like a planet, or even a room, or anything at all. She’s not even sure if there’s a floor, but Nova starts running like she’s never ran before in her life. Her breath is ragged and coming out in bursts. The jiggle in her chest and thighs burn under her speed, but she doesn’t care. She’s racing towards her mother, towards open arms, towards everything she’s been cheated out of for the last ten years.

It lasts for a second. Just a second. The figure is Piper Maluev, her skin dark and radiant, her hair down to her waist. Her lips are wide open and welcoming, her eyes crinkled at the seams. She’s tall and radiant and strong, and she’s everything Nova’s missed for nearly half her life.

And then it isn’t Piper. It’s not Luke, either, or Darth Vader, or whoever the dark, terrible, masked figure was. It’s not her usual nightmare transformation of Jacterr Calican. It’s not Bo-Katan, convulsing and dying. It’s Din. Just for a moment, a tiny fraction of relief, and then it’s not Din, either.

It’s a woman Nova’s never seen before, and her hand is clamped firmly around Nova’s windpipe. Like it’s nothing, she pulls her right off the disappearing floor and choking the life out of her. Her eyes are light but so terrifyingly menacing, her hair is a mess of a dark blonde. She’s pale and awful and her face is gleeful as she pulls the life out of Nova, a sucking, open wound.

She can’t talk. She doesn’t even want to plead for her life. If she’s this close to death anyway, and she just saw her mother, Nova figures there’s a pretty damn good chance that both of her parents are just over the other side. The woman is so happy to be killing Nova off, she doesn’t want to fight it. When her grip recedes, just for a half a second, Nova chokes out a confession that makes everything else grind to a halt.

It’s four words. Barely anything. Tears are streaming down her cheeks when her lips finally open. “I want my mom.”

Then she’s being dropped onto the floor, which very much exists now, and the light room filled with nothingness curls away, receding like it’s being burned. It’s dark in here, the tiled floor slippery and treacherous. In the background, there’s a makeshift trophy made from what looks like bones. Nova’s gasping for air, fighting back with a newfound vigor, kicking her legs helplessly to try and get some leverage on this woman who wants her dead, when, suddenly, she’s at eye level with her.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she seethes, a terrifying smile still spread across her horrible, beautiful face. “When I find you, you’re going to be begging for your life instead of your death.”

“Who—who are you?” Nova manages, through agony. Her shoulders hurt. Her headache feels like it’s trying to split her jaw in half. Her scar feels like it’s being reopened. Everything is torture, and she can’t even breathe.

“You’ll see,” the woman whispers, and her voice is so deadly that Nova internally corrects every time she’s ever called Bo-Katan venomous. Bo-Katan Kryze is a flower. One of the iridescent, gorgeous ones, that lined all the brush on Yavin, the ones Nova’s spent years pressing into the pages of every journal she’s ever owned. She’s kind and lovely and Nova’s very best friend, and when she gets out of this alive, Nova’s going to tell Bo-Katan that. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Andromeda.”

Nova heaves one giant breath into her lungs, trying to muster up anything that she can, even if it’s just more air. “I—” she starts, and the woman smiles again, loaded and dangerous. “I—I already did that, you miserable bitch,” Nova manages, and when she’s slammed into the awful floor, it’s worth it. There’s some kind of desperation behind the woman’s eyes, now and when her hand finds Nova’s throat again, she spits in her face.

And then she’s out of it. Hurtled out of it, actually, like a dying starfighter in the middle of space. She gasps and heaves on the floor, and as her sight comes back, her breathing does, too. Her head is still killing her. Her shoulders feel like they’re trying to carry the entire weight of Mandalore. Her scar is awful, white-hot and painful to the touch. Somewhere, distantly, her knees hurt like she’s fallen to them, and when she gains back her sense of sight and the feeling of her life being choked out of her body subsides, Nova realizes she has fallen to them. She’s fallen a lot, actually, down multiple steps leading to the floor from the raised platform where she was once sitting in the beskar throne. Nova shudders, inhaling through a terrible wheeze, curling her legs up close to her chest, trying to shake off the absolute shitshow that just hurtled her through the most traumatic Force vision she’s ever had.

“You,” comes a booming, rueful voice, and when Nova’s eyes flutter open, she’s expecting it to be the malicious, purple-haired woman from her vision. Her eyes take a second to adjust, her left one throbbing from the horrid ache pulsing behind it, and when she finally locates the source, it’s the miserable man from the gathering earlier.

“Can I help you?” Nova asks, her voice shooting up at the end, on the verge of tears.

“You aren’t supposed to be up there,” he spits, and Nova squints up at the throne she’d just fallen from.

“I know,” she whispers, dully. She presses a shaking hand to the ache behind her eye, trying to shut out this conversation like she wishes she’d ignored the vision. She tries to stand up, but her knees are too bruised to sustain pulling her to her feet, so she just slumps back against the step she’s on, trying to muster all the strength she has in her exhausted body to not break down. “I’m sorry,” Nova tacks on, the words barely there. “I—I wasn’t intending to sit here, or even come in the room, it just—”

“Happened,” he finishes, oddly calm. His voice sounds closer. Much closer. Nova opens her right eye, and he’s only at the bottom of the staircase. There’s something so wretched and dangerous about the energy he’s giving off, and she wants to run, but she’s in no position to even stand, let alone fight him off, so she just sits there, curling her knees into her chest, pulling her shawl as tight as she can against her upper body. “You’re an abomination.”

A laugh, the traitorous thing, bubbles up inside Nova’s throat. It’s not funny. It’s not. It’s pathetic, and likely racially motivated, but she can’t help herself. Her ribs ache, like they got banged up in her distant fall down these sharp, steep marble steps. “That, surprisingly, is not the first time I’ve been called an abomination in my life.”

“Do you know what the Jedi did to our people, little girl?” He’s angry. Nova can hear it in his voice. And normally, it would scare her, trigger her fight or flight reflex, keep her moving, but after her paranormal face-off with two of the scariest figures she’s ever seen, this one isn’t really that high up on our list. “I do. You were eradicated for good reason. You scorched our planet down to nothing, and now you and your cult leader husband come back here and try to take over? Not on my watch.”

Nova can feel him getting closer. He’s so much bigger than she is, up close, tall and buff, menacing and taut. She weakly pulls her hand away from her eye, trying to at the very least give him her full attention, but she’s so fucking tired. It’s in her bones, at this point. She doesn’t want to be royalty. She doesn’t want to be a Rebel. And, in contrast to what the man in front of her is screaming, she doesn’t want to be a Jedi.

She wants to be the Novalise she was on Naator, with nothing but domesticity and yellow leaves and pink skies. She wants to be the protector she was out there in hyperspace. And, for the first time in ten years, she wants to be Andromeda Maluev, fifteen and gleeful, running around Yavin knowing the stars were her destiny and that evil could always be defeated.

“I don’t even want to be here,” Nova whispers, finally, and it’s like something inside her breaks.

“Good,” the man spits, “then we’re in agreement.” And then his hands are yanking away the hood of her shawl and tangling in her braided hair. Nova’s scream gets cut off as she’s thrown down the rest of the stairs, like her body’s giving up. She chokes out something horrible, fighting to get to her bruised, banged up knees, sore from the fall, aching from the blissful time riding Din’s face less than an hour ago, but she can’t summon the strength. Somewhere, she knows Luke Skywalker is yelling at her to use the Force, but Nova’s had enough force today to last a lifetime. When she’s kicked in the stomach, brutal and awful, she just curls in on herself, hoping her death isn’t a slow one. He startles towards her again, ripping her shawl off of her body, clawing at the meat of her upper arm, and something snaps inside of her. If she’s going to die, really die, it’s not because she succumbed to the injuries this rabid Mandalorian is giving her to try and put the blame on her shoulders. She survived Moff Gideon. She survived Din and Grogu leaving her. She survived her parents dying. And she survived the abuse of Jacterr Calican’s awful hands. Novalise can survive this.

When her lightsaber roars to life in her hands, it’s not only Nova swinging. She can feel the weight of what it being the Skywalker family lightsaber, of Luke and Leia before her, of his father before him, of all the generations yet to come to wield this weapon, this holy sword, this impossible thing. It takes all of her energy, a brilliant beam of blue light, and then she falls to the floor, knowing that even if this is where it ends, that she fought back.

Everything next comes in flashes. It’s in these tiny fractals like what happened when the Crest had died right over Dagobah and crashed to the surface. She sees a blade ignite, and in between the rhythm of her fading in and out of consciousness, Nova thinks she’s just watching herself fight the man back. Suddenly, he drops to the floor, his body nothing but dead weight, and she wants to scream, but she’s back out. It’s horrible and deafening. She’s being scooped up, she can feel that. She’s crying. She’s definitely crying. There are voices, loud ones. When she has enough strength to open her eyes again, Din is slamming his gloved fist against the airlock on Kicker, his voice frantic. She can’t make out what he’s saying, though, and another face appears above her. Din gently transfers Nova’s limp body into someone else’s arms, and when Nova looks up, it’s Bo-Katan, her face so panicked it’s almost impossible to recognize who it is.

“Nova, you gotta stay awake,” Bo-Katan whispers, her palm slapping softly at Nova’s cheek. “C’mon, I mean it. If you die here on this planet you hate, I will haunt you in the afterlife. I swear, you have to stay awake.”

“I don’t—” Nova starts, and Bo-Katan shakes her head.

“You literally should not be talking,” Bo-Katan says, her eyesight dipping to Nova’s neck. Her eyes widen for a second and then her smooth fingers ghost over the outline. Nova coughs at her light touch, and she realizes that the marks from the vision she had of being choked within an inch of her life are here, that they followed her back out of the vision and into this moment. “Nova, no, shut up, I’m serious—”

“I don’t—don’t hate Mandalore,” she manages, her voice sounding like shards of glass, and Bo-Katan offers her a hasty, worried smile.

“You do,” Bo-Katan argues, but her voice is so gentle. “But don’t worry, princess, we’re getting you the hell off of it. No complaints now that you’re off Mandalore, you got it? The second you got here, I knew both of you wanted to leave.”

Din’s at her side again, and Bo-Katan kneels down, gently placing Nova in her familiar tangle of blankets and pillows. Nova’s eyes close again, and when they slide back open, Bo-Katan is standing, trading worried glances and hushed tones with Din.

Nova’s head hurts. So bad. It’s splitting down the middle of her skull, actually, but all she can do is press a hand over her eye and try to block out the familiar low light of the ship that smells more like home than this entire planet ever had.

“Listen, about what I told you back on Hoth—”

“It’s fine,” Din cuts her off, and his next few words are warbled. “I get it. Your allegiance is to Mandalore, not to us.”

Nova can’t hear Bo-Katan’s answer. In fact, she’s not even sure if there’s even words being spoken, because the next time she looks up, Bo-Katan is just staring down at her, incredibly concerned, such an obvious change from her usually stoic expression. Nova’s whole body feels like it’s on fire. She’s exhausted. Bo-Katan kneels down again, just for a split second, to pull the loose end of Nova’s shawl over the rest of her folded body. Nova wants to cry.

“Flower,” she garbles, nonsensically. She’s trying to tell Bo-Katan that she’s sorry for all the animosity, that she trusts her, and more than that, she likes her. It doesn't make a single lick of sense to anyone outside of Nova’s head, but Bo-Katan offers a tiny smile anyway.

“Here,” Din says, stiffly, holding out the sheathed blade of the Darksaber to Bo-Katan. Nova’s eyes flutter closed, just for a beat, and when they open back up, Bo-Katan is pushing the weapon back into Din’s grip.

“It’s not mine,” she insists. “Besides, you’re not getting out of it that easy. You’ll be back.”

“Bo-Katan—”

“Take care of her,” Bo-Katan interrupts. Nova blacks out again until they’re up in hyperspace. Din’s body is shielding her from the cold, his limbs draped all over the places that hurt the least. When she opens her eyes, they’re floating through the cosmos, and all her eyes can see is sweet, sweet stardust.

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