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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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By the king’s hand 🐍 IV

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, violence, oral, a bit of degradation)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Loki closes in on his prey.

Note: Doing my best to update something every few days. I’ll probably switch it up here and there and try to get to other series old and new as well. I won’t be answering any asks about updates but I am working on lots between work so I appreciate the patience.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You cleaned up the balcony for fear that Hal or another servant would happen upon your mess. You were aware that they would have little misconception about your position but you had no desire to flaunt your shame. It might not be your choice but others would not know that nor would they easily assume.

‘Bed warmer’; that was what he’d said. He’d assured you of it upon his last visit. You were nothing more than a whore to him and undoubtedly, to any other who knew of your existence in the palace. Your only comfort was that you might hide from prying and judging eyes for the duration of your service.

How long would that be? And after, what would you be left to?

You sat on the ledge of the window and stared out. The sunlight faded slowly, the summer lingered still. Even so, you could feel it was late. The king’s absence fed the dread deep in your chest and assured you that with each minute that passed, his return would come with inevitable zeal.

He promised you pain and had proven himself to be a selfish and sinister man. A man never told no, even to that one thing which had never been promised to him, the crown. How could he expect anything other than to be sated in his every need?

When the door handle turned and drew your attention from the ruffling leaves below, you stood. You watched Loki enter with the young boy, Hal, at his elbow The king’s day deepened the small lines around his eyes and brought out the vein on his forehead.

Hal removed his cloak and hung it and Loki fell heavy onto the sofa. He was skilled at ignoring all around him until they were required. Including you. He waved away the boy with his fingers and sighed.

“Fetch me wine for the night. I have little appetite…” He let his head loll and his eyes sparked as he saw you standing anxiously by the window, “Do you require anything to nibble on, little mouse?”

You shook your head but quickly corrected yourself. You cleared your throat and spoke carefully. “No, your majesty.”

“Very well,” he flicked away the servant and spread his arms over the back of the couch. The boy left and Loki hummed at the ceiling. You watched his profile as he closed his eyes. “I cannot lie. Our noontime delight did tide me over as the day stretched on. And how it did make it seem longer too.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you again. He smirked.

“Just a taste and I want more, like a sweet tart secreted from the sill or a sip of ale stolen by a child. A simple craving turns to an irresistible hunger.”

You squirmed and he beckoned you close. You watched him warily as he pulled at his overcoat with one hand and unbuttoned the high collar.

“Sit with me. I should like a drink before we proceed.” He said and his lithe fingers worked down the front of his coat. “I must wash away this tension, little mouse, and you might drown your fear.”

You lowered yourself onto the edge of the couch as he let his overcoat droop and reveal his tunic beneath. His fingers ran along the back of our gown and he sat forward slightly as he snaked his arm around you. He pulled you against him as he reclined again and grabbed your chin as he made you look at him.

“I like that.” His nose was close to yours, “The way you try to hide your emotions. That artificial bravery that cannot still your fidgeting fingers or that tic in your cheek. It assures me that you are truly afraid of me, little mouse…” His hot breath grazed your lips, “As you should be.”

“I am not afraid of you,” you uttered, “I am appalled… your majesty.”

He chuckled and a rap came at the door. He parted from you, his hand slipped down to rest on your hand and he pulled it onto his thigh as he called for his servant to enter. Hal came in and set down the bottle of wine and the pair of cups. He was dismissed with a nod.

Alone again, Loki pulled your hand up his leg and forced it over his growing bulge. He snickered as he hardened against your palm.

“My patience wears thin,” he groaned, “So pour us some wine before my thirst is forgotten.”

You drew away as he released you and stood. You poured the wine to the brim and returned to Loki. He took his glass and pointed you to the cushion again. He drank smoothly as you nearly choked on the acrid alcohol. You pulled the cup from your lips and crinkled your nose. The king chuckled and reached to set aside his empty goblet on the side table.

He pushed on the bottom of your cup until it was once more at your lips. “I recommend you drink but do not require it. Perhaps, I should enjoy you sober and petulant.”

You gulped again but quickly recoiled. He laughed again and took the glass from you. There was still quite a bit of wine sloshing around in it as he placed it beside his empty one.

“Get undressed for me, little mouse,” he stood and shrugged out of his overcoat.

You hesitated and flinched as his face turned stern. You rose as he slung his jacket over a chair and pulled the tails of his tunic loose from his trousers and unbuckled his belt. You strained as you bent your arms back but only managed to tangle your fingers in the laces.

He neared and turned you. He expertly unknotted the top of the laces and your bodice slackened. You caught the dress as it drooped down your chest and reluctantly let it slip further. You stepped out of the skirts and he gathered the fabric from the floor. He tossed it over his jacket as you avoided looking at him.

You felt his warmth along your back as he came close and his fingertips brushed lightly along the scars that lined your skin. The ones he’d left there. Those which might never go away. He pressed his thumbs more firmly to the lacerations and traced them down to your ass.

He exhaled and his hand stretched around your hips as he gripped them firmly. He edged you toward the couch until your legs met it. He nudged you until you lifted your knees onto the cushion. It was like you were in a trance; the thought to stop him was overpowered by that which wanted it all to just be over.

“You are healing nicely,” he purred, “A reminder of me when I am kept for too long from you, little mouse.”

You lowered your head as your lip curled. You latched onto the back of the couch and clawed the cushion.

“I feel the anger in you,” he slithered. “I long for it. A sharp tongue calls for a sharper strike. Should I use my hand or another toy?”

You stiffened as his hand crawled back up to your shoulders and he squeezed them as he leaned in.

“Or should I give into my basest desires and leave all patience behind. I could be inside you in a moment. I could have you screaming with a different pain. One which would soon enough be pleasure. An insatiable need.” He hooked his arms under yours and cupped your chest. “Funny, how peasants differ little from ladies. You have the same curves, the same want of a man.” He nuzzled the back of your head, “Perhaps the cunt is tighter? Wetter? Sweeter?”

You snarled and he pinched you. You swatted him away without thinking and he caught your wrist. He twisted your arm against your back until you whined.

“Come on, mouse, fight me,” he sneered, “Give me a little entertainment.”

You bit down but remained still. You huffed and stared at the carpet on the other side of the couch.

“The ladies never do. They’re too proper. Even as a prince, they were all too eager. Of course, they thought their kisses, their words, would lead to something other than a carnal revelation. They thought of contracts and prestige but I only wanted the flesh. They are too proper, too polite to resist.” He pushed on your arm and a pang went through your shoulder, “And when I fucked them, they only cried. Silently. No matter, I’d rather the back of their heads.”

Your insides roiled and the thought of this man, this monster called king, doing to you what he proudly boasted of doing to countless others had you livid. You could not resign yourself to the shame. If he never had to work for anything, he would have to now.

You swung your leg back and your heel met his thigh bluntly. He let go of you with a surprised grunt and you spun, kicking out again. He barely dodged your foot and you were quick to stand. The back of his hand split your lip and you stumbled but not far as you threw your elbows up into his ribs. His second strike missed as you ducked away and struggled to gain your bearings.

You flung a fist out at him and he batted you away. He swept your feet out from beneath you with one of his and you landed with a gasp as the air rushed from your lungs.

“Do you not recall our first lesson? You do not strike a king.” He taunted and stood above you. “If you do, you should hit a lot harder.”

He jabbed your side with the toe of his boot and chuckled. He lifted his tunic over his head and tossed it away. He paced around you and as you tried to sit up, he kicked you back down.

��Shall I have you on the floor? A beast like you belongs there.” He spat, “Oh, dear, are you angry?”

He bent and grabbed your arms. He pulled you up to your feet, leaving you light-headed as he stared you down.

“Go on and try again. Your venom only feeds my own.” He leaned in and his cheek brushed yours as he lowered his voice, “And this snake is meaner than any.”

You pushed on his chest and he shoved you away. You collided with the side table at the end of the couch and wine splashed across your front. He followed you and kicked your ass so that you fell atop the the table entirely, leaving it overturned as you writhed on the floor.

“I’d use your mouth again but you seem like to bite, little mouse,” he chortled. “Oh, but I have waited for that which makes you a woman.”

“You’re… disgusting,” you choked out as he planted a boot on your chest and pinned you to the floor.

“Perhaps but those words mean little from a heathen like you. Tell me, how many men have known you, hmm? A peasant like you? Perhaps a butcher? A forger? Several, even?”

“Get--” You grunted as you grasped his boot, “Off.”

“Do be honest. There is no number which could tarnish you further. You cannot possibly sink lower, little mouse.”

“St-stop,” you pleaded as he pushed down and you found it even harder to breathe.

“Tell me,” he said, “Hmm? More than one? Perhaps five?” He peered down at you and smirked, “Is it more? In the tens?”

You wheezed and shook your head. You kicked out as silver dots floated around your vision. “N-n-none!” You gasped, “None.”

He relented but kept his foot where it was. He laughed. Loudly. He shook his head and scoffed.

“No man?” He said wryly, “Oh, the elusive untouched maiden.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you snarled.

“A mouth like that on a creature so pure,” he bent and grabbed you by the throat.

He lifted you to your feet and spun you. He forced you over to the table and your middle met it with a thud. You bent over as once more the air was driven from you. His hand was on your ass as he pressed his crotch against you and rocked.

“I do like this angle but wonder if it better to look you in the eye as I pluck your flower,” he kept his hips moving and moaned, “See the pain, the fear, the realisation that you are completely and utterly mine.”

He reared back and slapped your ass. You whimpered at his strength as your hips knocked against the wooden table. He raised his hand again but was halted by a sudden knock. He paused and let out a thick breath. He struck you again. The knock came again. Louder.

“I told my guard, I was not to be disturbed,” he growled.

“Oh, your majesty,” the sing song came through the door, “I have a message for you.”

“Fuck,” Loki swore and backed away. You turned your head to watched him as he pushed his shoulders back, “That fool.”

You didn’t move as he snatched up his tunic and replaced it over his torso. He glanced at you and snapped his fingers. He pointed to the bedroom and you stood straight. He lifted a brow in a final warning.

You shakily retreated and ambled through the doors. You stayed close as you listened. You couldn’t stop quaking. The adrenaline was ice in your veins but seeped away and uncovered the flames of agony licking at your body.

“What is it, you dolt?” The door whipped open in tandem with Loki’s words.

“Why, it is I, your brother’s most beloved companion, aside from his wife, of course, and a message for his most esteemed brother, the king,” the man sounded like a jester.

“Lord Fandral, I do command that you are to the point and do not continue on in this mockery.” Loki tutted.

“Oh, you have not changed,” the lord, Fandral, quipped, “As dour and dull as ever.”

“But a king now so do be on with it.”

“I have been sent to present to you a humble invitation to your brother’s own tournament upon the celebration of his new marriage. He does apologize for the short notice but it would not take you much long than a day and a night to arrive which is why I did insist upon my interruption… I do assume I have disturbed some going on.”

“If I accept this ridiculous proposal, will you be gone?”

“Oh, I must, your brother does await the answer and I would be away tonight to insure you do not arrive before me. You see, the tournament does commence in three days thus. You do want to make the lists, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, go. Let him know that I will appear.” Loki huffed. “At once before I change my mind and have your head sent back instead.”

“As amiable as ever, your majesty,” the other man said, “Do continue on in your… well, whatever it is you do for fun.”

The door snapped shut quickly and you staggered away from the door as you heard the king’s footsteps beneath the muttered curses. His shadow appeared in the dim and you pressed yourself to the wall. You eyed the door behind him, the balcony to your left.

“Get in the bed,” he snipped. “If I must drag you, you will not drag yourself from it.”

You shuddered and forced yourself away from the wall. Loki undressed fully as you neared the bed and climbed over the covers. He was quick as he followed and met you from the other side. He shoved you onto your back and held you there with his hand across your throat. His hot breath glossed over your cheek as his fingers flitted to your chin and he squeezed.

He growled and let go. He flopped onto his back beside you and laid silently. Stewing. You watched his silhouette in the dark.

“My brother does ruin everything,” he whispered. “I am so… riled I can barely focus and…” he bit his lip and stopped himself. “Use your hand.”

“Wha--”

“Or your mouth. I don’t care, I only need to cum,” he closed his eyes. “And not think of what my brother has laid on my plate for the morrow.”

You grimaced and reached over blindly. You kept your eyes on the ceiling as you gripped his hard member and he winced at your touch.

“Tighter,” he murmured.

You did as he bid and slowly moved your hand up his length and back down. You thought of the balcony. At least it was only your hand. You stroked him as he groaned beside you, as his voice floated in the moonlight, and the night air skimmed over your bodies. He wrapped his finger around yours and guided you faster.

You kept the motion as his hand dropped back down and you felt his climax building as he trembled. He grunted as he reached over and kneaded your hip. He bent his legs slightly as he erupted and his warm cum dripped over your knuckles and along your palm. He stopped you and spasmed as he tried to catch his breath.

“You will fetch a rag and clean me before I sleep,” he said, “And we will continue our little game another day.”

🐍

You awoke with a heat wrapped around you. The king’s arm clung to you as there was a prodding further down. You could feel his arousal along the curve of your ass. You tried not to fidget in fears you would rouse him more or wake him. You laid, helpless and watched the early dawn light on the wall.

“It is merely a nocturnal habit,” Loki said as his arm tightened around you. “But, I suppose, your presence does evoke it as well.”

You scowled and said nothing.

“You slept heavily. Rather loudly.” He mused. “I had to roll you over to ease your snorts.”

“You might send me back to the dungeon if I see you sleepless,” you suggested.

“I did not say I was,” he countered, “I slept well enough.”

He drew away from you and the bed shifted as he turned his back to you and hung his legs over the edge. You rolled onto your back as the blanket crumpled around his back and you watched him. He stretched and shook out his black waves. He stood, unabashed by his erection, and went to the window.

“On the road by noon.” He said, “A brief rest on the roadside and the sojourn will not be more than a day.”

You stayed as you were. It might be his bed but it was the most comfortable you’d ever known. Besides, you were unsure of what else to do.

“The party needn’t be very large. Some guards and a few companions.” He spoke to himself as he picked at the window frame and stared out. “Of course, my armor will have to be polished and--” He pulled away and looked back to you on the bed. He smirked. You sat up, alarmed by his sudden interest. “And you will need a chest.”

“Pardon?”

“You must accompany me, of course. As my bed warmer.” He neared the bed and loomed over you. “Did you truly think I’d leave you behind? What in all the gods’ names would you do?”

You frowned and bent your legs to your chest. What would you do indeed.

“In an unfamiliar castle, my bed will certainly need warming and… my brother is the very being that does know how to irk me entirely. I will need the… respite.” Loki lowered himself back to the bed. “And there is so much undone.”

You couldn’t hide your discomfort. You watched him recline across the bed as you stayed huddled at the top of the mattress.

“I don’t understand…” you said quietly.

“Understand what?” He looked over at you with his discerning green eyes.

“Why you didn’t leave me in the dungeon? Or send me to the laundries or the stables?”

He considered you a moment and exhaled. “Well, you are of little use to me in either and I do see use in you. As king, it is prudent only to surround yourself with those who can further your own purpose; be it pleasure or otherwise.”

His answer made you sick. You were an object. A commodity. Well, you were just a peasant, what did you expect?

“And, was your life so glorious before? Were your clay pots and simple companions so amusing? Never touched? Did you ever expect it, at the least?” He challenged.

“Commoners do not marry so early as nobles,” you said quietly.

“Oh, but surely by your age they have considered it? Tell me, do I tread on another man’s grass? Is there some secret betrothal I do not know about? Or perhaps just a tryst unconsummated?”

You pursed your lips and begrudgingly shook your head. You kept your eyes on the blanket as he rolled onto his side and looked at you closer.

“I have done you a favour,” he said, “And I am not in the habit of favours so you might be thankful for it.”

“You would make me a whore. I could’ve done the same in any alleyway.”

“You will find no kings in your alleys,” he girded, “Nor silks, satins, or furs. I offer you all despite your crimes and you think I take from you. I have given you more than you know. You, little mouse, are not the prize in this game, I am.”

You looked at him and blinked. He ran his finger along the blanket that hung over your leg. He tugged until it fell down your knees. You shivered as you thought to grab it and pull it back to your body but he was quick. He pushed your legs apart despite your resistance and you fought with him as he moved between them, his head by your thighs.

His hands hooked over your thighs as he held them apart and he beamed up at you. He licked his lips and pulled himself closer. You felt his breath along your folds as he held your gaze. He lowered his head slowly and you squirmed as he hovered just along your cunt.

“What--”

He poked his tongue between your folds and dragged it up along your bud. You gasped at the peculiar sensation and he did it again, this time circling the sensitive bump. You grasped the pillows as he watched you and continued on, teasing and toying with his tongue. As he pressed his lips around your bud and suckled, you squeaked and you fell flat on the pillows.

“What are you--” You were breathless as he lapped at you and hummed, sending a thrill up your spine.

Your back arched without thought and your hand flew down to grip your own thigh as it pushed against his head. He held onto your legs as he hugged them and closed his eyes as he devoured you. Your eyes rolled back and you dug your heels into the mattress. You lifted your pelvis as you were driven wild by the flurry in your core.

You moaned and whined pathetically as he took control of your body. As he lured you closer and closer to an unknown release. A coil wound tighter and tighter inside of you until finally it snapped. You felt the pleasure flow from you as he drank it up and the tension left your body in an instant as the waves crashed over you.

You bent your arms across your chest and held yourself in your shock; in the sheer ecstasy that had overcome you. You panted and felt suddenly cold as he removed himself from between your legs. You peeked over at him as he sat up and wiped his glistening lips. His mouth curved deviously as he met your gaze.

“I am not the only in need,” he preened, “Though the need is so much more dire when you know what exactly it is you long for, isn’t it?

#loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #dark fic #fic #dark!fic #series #by the king's hand #king!loki #au #medieval #medieval au #medieval!au #mcu #marvel

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dovakhiindrabbles · 3 years

Note

For the prompt 43 with Brynjolf please?

Of course! I’d be more than happy to write the prompt for you! I only hope you have an amazing day and enjoy! <3

43. “Come with me.”

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Nocturnal was a god among mortals -- a daedric prince who oversaw the murky shadows and all who hid among them. Whispers heard throughout the world told of how she could even be found lingering in those shadows, an inky blackness clinging to her as if the very sun itself couldn’t reveal her.

She was above the follies of mortals and yet couldn’t help herself from meddling. Especially those of her most loyal followers -- the Nightingales.

She’d noticed from her times looming within the darkness how you and Brynjolf interacted. How hands briefly brushed and fingers just barely interlocked. How passing glances held just a second too long to be unimportant. How no matter where you went, you went together.

Your feelings for one another were so painfully obvious an infant could see it -- so apparently the two of you had even less awareness.

It was an opportunity Nocturnal couldn’t pass up.

Between the two of you, she first sought out Brynjolf. The man fancied himself as clever, often to such a degree that a snippy remark had slipped out in some of their conversations.

It was during the night when she caught him, just outside the Blue Palace where he’d managed to escape from. Guards spilled out and yells could be heard from each and every corner -- even those caught in shadow. Brynjolf had slipped between two manors where the moonlight missed just so. An ornate, extravagant jewelry box clamped between his grip with more gemstones and gold decorating it than most would see in their entire life.

From there, Nocturnal revealed herself in the darkest crevice space could offer. The darkness extended her outwards and still clung to her despite her physical form. She was a void, and the shape she created only split itself apart in the pure absence of light -- not even the brightest lantern would be able to paint her figure.

“My Nightingale.”

Brynjolf nearly jumped into the open road in shock, smacking his back up against the wall in frustration upon realizing. “Fucking fuck are you-”

He looked up at Nocturnal’s imposing figure and thought better of himself. He spoke softly, his gaze alternating between her and the streets cluttering further and further of curious onlookers and furious guards. “My lady, what can I do for you?”

She made a motion with her hand that brought strings of the void trailing after her fingertips. “On the contrary, I am here to offer you my assistance.”

Brynjolf gave a cheeky grin. “Could you get me out of this mess?”

“You are one of my most trusted followers with an agent of my own creation. There should be no situation beyond your skills.”

“I know.” Brynjolf groaned. “Worth a shot. Meet me outside the gates, my lady?”

She vanished without a word and Brynjolf proceeded to lift himself up onto the rim of one of the manor’s roof. He hoisted himself up and pressed his body close to the tiles, only lifting himself up to leap from home to home. In that time he truly was a shadow, beyond any light and any eyes that would make the foolish attempt to seek him out.

Minutes later he was beyond Solitude’s walls and any outrage that still remained was drowned out by the falling and crashing of the waves below. Still hidden away safely in his coat was the jewelry box -- not so much as a scuff on it. Brynjolf impressed himself every time.

As he began walking along the carved out path, Nocturnal reemerged. Her form freer beyond Solitude’s constant desire for warmth. She carried herself freely, and she took on a shape almost human, but not quite. There was always an unknowable aspect to Nocturnal that could never be described. Many daedra carried themselves in such a way, so that they could nearly blend in, but never be forgotten by anything lesser than a fool.

“That was commendable.” Nocturnal hummed. Both a lightness and a deepness coexisted in her voice.

Brynjolf interlocked his fingers and stretched them out; a popping could be heard. He sighed dramatically. “All in a day’s work.”

“I hope you are able to hide that treasure as well as you hide your feelings.”

Brynjolf knew Daedric princes were meant to be incapable of understanding; downright incomprehensible sometimes. But this? It bewildered him.

“I’m sorry?”

“You and the other Nightingale?”

Brynjolf cracked a grin. “Karliah?” He tested Nocturnal’s kindness.

“The other one.” She swatted a bit of darkness at him and like a tight band flung outward, it stung him.

“Ah, that one.” Brynjolf rubbed at his little red mark where Nocturnal smacked him like a petulant child. “What of them?”

Nocturnal stepped in front of him, a swirling blackness keeping her from ever truly touching the ground. “You both have feelings for one another?”

Brynjolf did what he knew best, and dodged the question. “What like hate? Friendliness? Perhaps a bit of irritation?”

“Do not attempt to evade me, Nightingale.” Nocturnal raised her voice and the night became that much more invasive. She settled herself quickly. “You are my servant, there is nothing I do not know. The darkest, most secretive parts of yourself are the ones I know best. Fortunately for you, I only wish to help.”

Brynjolf wrinkled his nose and cracked beneath the pressure. It was a touchy subject, apparently. “Oh yeah? And how’s that?”

“I need only open your eyes,” Nocturnal answered. “I think you’ll find it’s clear the feelings are mutual.”

“I don’t want to be disrespectful my lady but-”

Nocturnal cut him off. “Then don’t be.”

Brynjolf scoffed. “But I don’t see how that’s possible.”

She tipped her head to the side curiously. “How is that?”

“Because there are a million other better people knocking on their door!” Brynjolf exclaimed it like it were obvious. “I mean why would someone like that choose someone like me?”

“Someone like you? Their equal?”

Brynjolf scowled and huffed. “Like a thief could ever be on par with the Dragonborn.”

Nocturnal simpered. “The Dragonborn themself also is a thief. Last I recall you two work closely together.”

“Even still-”

“The only one creating rifts in this relationship is you, my Nightingale. What are you afraid of?”

He hesitated and in an instant Nocturnal knew.

“Rejection.”

Brynjolf’s hands tightened into tight, uneasy fists at the revelation. Nocturnal raised those hands and unfurled them, tracing lines of shadow along his palm. In the most peculiar way, it was soothing, and Brynjolf supposed it was her own... unique way of comforting him.

“If I believed there was a chance the Dragonborn wouldn’t share those feelings I would not be here, speaking to you. I only want what is best for my followers.”

“Besides,” Nocturnal mused. “if it goes poorly, you can simply submerge yourself within the shadows for eternity.”

Brynjolf chuckled. “I might take you up on that offer.”

“You won’t.” Nocturnal looked up at him with an emptiness one could consider her eyes. Her ‘windows to the soul’ only unveiled further darkness, but only in the way one shrouds themself beneath the shade of a blanket to escape what frightens them -- it was a relief, protection. “Because you won’t have to.”

A moment later, Nocturnal disappeared within the void beneath her. She sank into the night that had soaked into the very deepest layers of the earth, leaving Brynjolf to himself and her words.

By the time he’d made it to the Nightingale Hall, he’d made up his mind.

You were sitting in the living quarters with Karliah, seated across one another and leaned both in the old, weary chairs. You’d been laughing, and Brynjolf could tell by the edges of your lips lifted up. The moment you saw him, you lit up.

“Bryn! There you are! Karliah was starting to think you got lost along the way!”

He snorted. “I could’ve. What a bitch of a walk.”

Karliah furrowed her brow, amused. “You could’ve stolen a horse like a sane person.”

“Maybe I like the quiet. You can hardly get any of it here.”

She rolled her eyes at the very idea. “You wouldn’t know what to do without us.”

Brynjolf laughed. “Absolutely lass.”

He turned to you and his heart began to thump heavy and hard against his chest. Of all the things to bring him nerves in life, it was you bringing knots and tangles in his stomach. He took a deep breath and grasped your shoulder, gesturing. “Come with me.”

Your eyes widened like saucers, but you stood up. To say the least, your curiosity was piqued. “Alright... what is it?”

“I just wanted to talk to you, in private.”

You ducked your head away to hide the red that burst onto your face. You folded your lips to hide a growing smile, but you were still clearly nervous, shuffling your feet and fidgeting with your hands. “Okay.”

He led you outside where the evening had overtaken the sky overhead in a mix of blues, pinks, and the slightest tinge of purple. It was a beautiful sight, and one of the rare gifts that came with living in Skyrim.

Brynjolf leaned against the stone cavern of the hall and ran his fingers through his hair. This felt so much easier in his head. “I ah -- I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an idiot.”

“Bryn-”

“No! I just -- I want to say this, but be patient with me, please. I’m not good with... emotions.” Brynjolf laughed. “You don’t get to be a man like me by being open.”

You nodded and stayed, you were far too patient than he deserved.

“I-” Brynjolf swallowed hard and took a few steps forward. A part of him wanted to reach for your hand but that’d be too much, too soon. If he -- if Nocturnal was wrong he didn’t want to dig his grave any further than necessary.

“I love you.”

There was a period of silence where Brynjolf considered Nocturnal’s offer to hide in the shadows forever. It was a horrible few seconds where Brynjolf’s vision was stagnant and the entire world was frozen in time.

He only came back to reality when you took his hand. You enveloped it in your own and squeezed his palm fondly. You were warm, and your grip was steadfast.

“I love you too.”

Brynjolf rarely smiled from ear to ear, but he did then. He took you in his arms and spun you like one only saw in fairy tales. It was something he only just now realized he’d wanted to do for the longest time. There were so many things he wanted to do -- with you -- and now, he could.

He would have to thank Nocturnal the next time they crossed paths.

#Brynjolf #Skyrim #tes #Skyrim tes #brynjolf skyrim #Brynjolf x Reader #Brynjolf x You #You x Brynjolf #Skyrim Fanfic #Skyrim Fanfiction #x Reader #brynjolf fanfiction #Brynjolf Fanfic #Forgot how much I LOVE nocturnal #also thieves guild might be my favorite questline

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lakesandquarries · 3 years

Text

Tangled Up - Chapter One

for I am a tardigrade, and I'll stay at home

Benrey's spent 26 years living in a tower - 27, tomorrow. When a thief breaks into his tower, he finds his chance to escape and takes it.

Alternatively: Tangled, but the AI is self aware.

(featuring art by @kenas-artstuff )

Notes: check ao3 for warnings and tags! “kane radio” is just gordon using a fake name. fic title from “tangled up” by caro emerald, chapter title from “tardigrade song” by cosmo sheldrake.

Happy valentines day!!! hope you enjoy <3

AO3 Link

This is not the first time Kane’s come to tied up. It’s not even the first time this week. However, it is the first time he’s come to tied up with ropes made of human hair, and the first time he’s come to with a fucking raccoon shoving its nose in his ear.

So maybe he screams a little. Anyone would! It’s a reasonable reaction.

The hair around his wrists is a shiny blue-black, tough when he pulls at it. Is all hair like that? Is it one of those things that’s fragile individually but super tough all together? Seems like it, because it’s not even budging.

He’s so caught up that he doesn’t notice the person in the shadows until they’re holding out a crowbar, tilting up his chin.

“Yo,” they say, quiet and monotone. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Kane screams again.

They’re weird looking. Pale, really pale, to the point that Kane wonders if something is wrong with them, and with a dark shadow around their eyes like a bruise that makes him sure. They’ve got on a long dress, all dark blues and lace and fancy embroidery, the kind of thing you’d either have to be rich to buy or have a lot of spare time to make. Their eyes are a bright, bright yellow, almost glowing, sclera a pale blue, and their hair is the same blue-black as the hair around Kane’s wrists - oh, it’s the same hair, isn’t it? Fuck, it’s long.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the guy says again. “You got, uh. ID? Passport?”

“Passport?” This is - this is insane. This cannot be happening. “What the fuck,” he mumbles, repeating it to himself a few times, “what the fuck, who - who are you?”

The man tilts his head up with his crowbar. "No, no. I asked you first. You're in my house, I ask the questions." His eyes narrow, almost translucent in the light. "What're you doing here? How'd you find me? You gonna steal shit?" His hand goes to his hair, tugging on the blue-black strands. "Gonna steal my hair?"

"Steal your - why would I steal your hair?" The crowbar is cold against his throat, pressing harder every time he speaks. "And aside from that, I'm not here to steal anything. I thought this place was empty so I could use it for - as a shelter! Happy now?" His tone stays steady, confident even, but his hands clutch at the armrests desperately.

“You - huh?” The crowbar pulls back, just enough that Kane’s head can drop, and he sucks in a deep breath while he still can. The crowbar moves away entirely for a moment, as the stranger steps aside to have a whispered conversation with his pet raccoon.

Yeah, this day is weird enough for that to seem normal. Between stealing the prince’s royal helmet, ditching his partner, getting chased by a guard dog, and now this - it’s certainly been a day.

While the guy’s busy, Kane glances around, taking in the sights of the tower. It’s small. Homey. There’s a bed, a kitchen, a couch, bookshelves full of video games and a handful of books. The walls are covered, floor to ceiling, in paintings. When he looks up he realizes it’s not just the walls, the ceiling is painted too. Even the furniture has tiny doodles and carvings in it.

The crowbar slides against his throat again, cutting off his train of thought. "Is it just you?” the stranger asks. “No, uh. Backup? Not gonna...." he trails off, looking at his raccoon again, then back to Kane. "Who are you?"

He gives the man the best smile he can manage, under the circumstances, and says, “I’m Kane. Kane Radio.”

“Kane,” the man repeats. There’s a long pause where the two of them just stare at each other, before he finally adds, “Benrey.” Suddenly he tugs on his hair, pulling Kane closer to him and pushing the crowbar aside. “I wanna make a deal with you.”

“Uhh, yeah, could you get me out of your...hair, first? If that is your hair.” He doesn’t have time to make deals, and he doesn’t like the way Benrey repeated his name. Could he….? No, there’s no way. Kane’s been careful to erase any trace of Gordon Freeman. Of all people to blow his secret it’s not gonna be some random hermit living in a tower. He swallows, appreciating the lack of metal at his throat. “To be honest, I’d rather -”

Aaaand there goes the crowbar again. Shouldn’t have gotten confident. "You're lucky I'm gonna let you leave," Benrey says, voice low. Suddenly he doesn't seem like just a weird guy in a tower. Suddenly he seems like a threat. A choked yelp claws out of Kane’s throat as Benrey tugs on his hair again, pulling Kane close enough that he can see his unnaturally sharp teeth. "Wanna try that again?"

He barely processes the words, focused on the man - man?? - in front of him, the sharp teeth and glowing eyes and the crowbar pressing his throat shut, or maybe that’s just anxiety. It occurs to him that maybe this guy isn’t human.

His smile is nowhere near its usual confidence, but he tries to grin anyway. “S-so, uh, what...what was that deal? Benrey?”

Benrey’s face splits into a grin, and suddenly he’s just...a guy again. A weird guy! A weird, unsettling guy, with eyes that are too bright and teeth that are too sharp and hair that is way too long, but a guy. The crowbar is lowered and Benrey steps back, clambering up his fireplace and pulling back a red curtain. Behind it is...a painting? Still semi-fresh, from the looks of it, in the same style that all the other paintings are. This one depicts the floating lanterns they do for the prince's birthday. There’s all sorts of colors, blue and silver and pink and green, and below the sky is a hill with a small figure on it with long black hair.

"You know what these are?" he asks, pointing a finger at a pink light.

Kane exhales slowly. Benrey’s gonna push that crowbar against him again any second now, so he might as well enjoy breathing while he can. Fuck, he’d almost rather go back outside and deal with the guard dog that chased him here. “Yeah,” he says, voice shaking, and he clears his throat before he continues. “The lanterns for the lost prince.” Is Benrey fucking with him? Everyone knows the lanterns. Kane’s never even been to a lantern ceremony himself but he still knows what they are. He’d need a serious head injury to forget that, and while his head hurts a bit it’s certainly not that bad.

Benrey does not seem to be fucking with him, because he does a little cheer and fist pump. “I knew they weren’t stars,” he mumbles to himself, before turning back to Kane. Louder, he says, "I want you to take me there. To see 'em." He pulls the curtain back over and jumps down from the mantle, landing on the floor with a heavy thud. "Think you can manage that? Just there and back and I don't, uh. Y'know." He glances at the window. Kane follows his gaze, picturing Benrey launching his body out of it, and shudders. "Pretty good deal, I think."

Kane’s breath comes out in a panicked hiss.”W-well, that's not really a good idea right now, since I shouldn’t show my face in the kingdom right now considering I -" oh shit. "Oh shit. My satchel! Where is my satchel?!"

Benrey raises an eyebrow, smirking at him. “Oh, the bag thingy? I hid it. Mine now.” His smug face is the most infuriating thing Kane has ever seen, and he’d be throwing a punch if he wasn’t fucking tied to a chair. Benrey continues, "If you want it, you gotta earn it. You take me to the lanterns, I give you your satchel. Deal?"

Hid it. He said he hid it, so it’s….somewhere in here, probably, and once Kane realizes that it’s easy to figure out. He nods his head at a flowerpot. “It’s in there, huh?”

Benrey raises the crowbar again.

Oh, shit. “W-wait, no no no, no need to hit me!” He shuts his eyes, wishing he could move his arms to protect himself. He does not need any more head trauma, thank you very much.

This guy really won’t hesitate to kill him, huh? This stupid deal is his only real option. Kane sighs, keeping his eyes shut. "L-look, I'll keep my eyes shut like this? And you can hide my satchel somewhere else. No peeking. I'll agree to the deal. Just - my head already feels like splitting."

A pause. Kane almost considers opening his eyes but keeps them shut. Finally he hears Benrey’s voice again. “No peeking,” he repeats. There’s a series of shuffling noises, bare feet and raccoon claws against the floor, and then a moment later: “Okay. You can open your eyes.”

The satchel is nowhere to be seen, without even a hint to where it might be hiding. He sighs, head dropping forward before he looks up at Benrey again. "If I'm gonna agree to this, let me ask at least one question. Why do you wanna see them so badly, and why would you need an escort for that?"

Benrey’s face goes blank. “Uhhhh,” is all he says, followed by a long pause, leaving Kane worried he broke him somehow, but finally Benrey continues. "That's, uh. None of your business. 's just - it's, uh, dangerous. Out there. For me. Need a....need a guide."

Huh. Sheltered, maybe? Benrey seems...well, a little off, to be blunt. He can’t be much younger than Kane is, but he doesn’t even know about the lanterns. Overprotective parent seems a likely answer, but whatever the reason, now’s not the time to pry. “Alright, yeah, none of my business. Okay. We go see the lanterns, come back, you give me the satchel, yeah? Deal?”

“Deal,” Benrey agrees.

“Okay. Does that mean you can untie me now?”

-----

The thing about spending 27 years in a tower, knowing that this is where you’re going to spend your entire life, is that when you get the option to leave it’s kind of the scariest thing imaginable.

Kane’s already climbed down, leaning against a tree while Benrey stands on the ledge. Physically, he’s ready. He’s got his hair wrapped around the lever, ready to swing down, ready to go, to get out of the stupid fucking tower and out into the real world, except -

Except -

“You are never leaving this tower.” Zeki’s hands are on his shoulder, nails digging in. “Do you understand?”

Benrey reaches back, trying to grab at the closet. “But -”

“The outside world isn’t safe for you. You aren’t safe for it. If you went outside, you know what would happen?”

“Huh?”

“Look at you.” She grabs his hand roughly, pulling him over to the mirror. “They’ll take one look at you, and they’ll know, and then what? You’ll fight back. You’ll hurt people. You’re dangerous.”

It’s nothing new, but. He thinks about the man he has stuffed into his closet. He didn’t hurt him. He’ll be fine! “But -”

“This isn’t up for discussion. You. Are not. Leaving. Ever. Do you understand me or not?”

He stares at the mirror, looking between himself and Zeki. She’s looked the same as long as he can remember, brown hair always pulled into a bun and dark green eyes, pale skin but not in the same way Benrey is pale. She’s human. He’s not. And she’s right, that anyone who looks at him is gonna know. That’s why he’s up here, where it’s safe. Where no one can hurt him. And, more importantly, where he can’t hurt anyone else.

“I understand,” Benrey mumbles.

“Good.”

“I, uh. I thought of - I came up with something better. For a, uh. Birthday thingy.”

Zeki turns away from the mirror, towards Benrey. “Oh?”

“You got me that - the paint. Last year. The white one?”

“That’s a long trip,” she says, pursing her lips.

“I won’t ask about the. The stars. Or going outside. Or anything of that. I’ll, uh -” He glances at the dresser, the one where she keeps her lab coat. “I’ll make up for it.”

There’s a glint in her eyes, sharp like her favourite knife. “Fine. I’ll get you the paint.” Her face softens as she places a hand on Benrey’s head. “I’m only doing this to protect you.”

“I know,” he mumbles, as she steps away to gather her things. “I know.”

“Benrey?” Kane yells. “Are you gonna move or what?”

He jumps.

The fall is intense. Wind in his hair, sun on his face, watching the ground get closer - oh that’s close. Oh that’s very close. He stops just a few inches off the ground, hesitating once again. There’s no going back from this. The grass is so much greener than he expected, bright and shiny in the sun, drops of dew still lingering, and before he can spiral further he puts his foot down. When nothing happens - no monster appears, no pit opens up and swallows him - he puts both feet on the ground, the blades of grass tickling him.

A quick tug, and he pulls his hair down from the lever, watching it fall to the ground, and then joins it. The grass is still damp underneath him, but the sun above is warm. He’s getting covered in dew and dirt and bits of grass and he can’t find it in him to care, busy savoring the feeling he’s dreamed of for so long.

It’s not until he stands up that he realizes the bulk on his hair landed directly on Kane. He starts shoving hair aside, Jefferem lending a set of tiny hands as extra help. “You good?” Benrey asks, as Kane’s head becomes visible.

Kane huffs, struggling to stand. “Apart from being attacked by your mane, yeah, I'm fine. Can you help me out?”

Benrey holds out an arm. Pulling Kane up proves easier than he thought, and he pulls a little too hard, almost slamming Kane into him, the two of them pressed together for a moment before Kane coughs and steps back. Benrey takes a moment to half-heartedly brush some dirt and grass out of his hair and off his clothes, looking at Kane. “Guide time?”

Kane blinks at him, not bothering to clean off his clothing. “Uh - yeah. Guide time. Let’s go!” His steps are loud as he walks away.

Benrey’s footsteps are almost inaudible as he follows, crowbar gripped tight in his hands. The initial adrenaline is starting to fade, doubt settling in. Maybe this was a bad idea. It’s not too late to turn around and go back.

He shakes his head. Lost in his own thoughts, he’s fallen behind, and he has to sprint to catch up. Hoping not to zone out again, he starts talking, letting the first thing he can think of fall out of his mouth. “The lights - the lanterns. You said they were for a...prince?”

They enter a small stone tunnel as Kane answers. His voice is soft. “Every year, on the prince’s birthday, the kings - and the whole kingdom - release a swarm of lanterns,” he explains, voice echoing. It turns theatrical as he continues. “See, their little boy was snatched away as a baby, by an evil wizard! Or...something like that, at least. They’re hoping the lanterns will bring him back.”

“On his birthday?” Benrey echoes. Weird coincidence. A moment passes while Benrey busies himself with touching the walls of the tunnel. “And they still haven’t found him? Why’re they still doing the lanterns if it doesn’t work?”

Kane’s voice is softer, more subdued when he responds. "The kings still have hope that their baby boy will return someday. It's a very human thing in my opinion."

Ah. Human thing. That explains why Benrey doesn’t understand.

Kane pokes his head through the ivy, waiting a moment before ducking back and lifting it to let Benrey through. “We’re clear.”

Raising an eyebrow, Benrey repeats, “Clear?” Is something following them, or is Kane just paranoid? Or maybe Benrey is reading too much into things. Maybe it’s normal to check for stuff like that. Not like he would know.

"Ah - well, I told you earlier, didn't I? The kingdom and I aren't... quite buddy buddy at the moment." As they walk, he keeps looking around, eyes darting back and forth. "But don't worry, it shouldn't be a big problem for our objective."

Oh. Maybe he should’ve paid more attention to what Kane was saying earlier. Too late for that now, though. “So I was right? You a little - thief boy, huh? Stealing shit?” It’s mostly a guess, but he can’t picture this guy doing any real crime. His satchel probably had some stolen shit in it and that’s why he wants it back so bad. Well, better to team up with a criminal than a guard or something, considering all the rules Benrey’s breaking.

“Why do you keep insisting I steal shit?” Kane asks, looking away from Benrey. He doesn’t even give him time to answer, immediately following it with, “Hey, you hungry?”

Immediately changing the subject, huh? Now that’s suspicious. Admittedly he is a little hungry, and curious about where they’d be getting food out here. “Only if you’re not gonna steal it.”

Kane’s mouth screws up, eyes narrowing with a scoff. “I know a good place to get food. On our way, too. My friend works there.”

Oh shit, other people. He hesitates a moment before nodding. “Sure. Sure, yeah.”

Kane squints at him again. “You're not really an outside person huh? Have you...Have you ever been outside before?”

Damn, okay, just gonna straight up ask. Benrey opens his mouth to answer and then stops. “You answer my question first.” He’s not looking at Kane as he talks, eyes on the road ahead.

A groan in response, and then, “Fine, neither of us get an answer, then.” Kane picks up his pace, quickly getting ahead of Benrey.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Benrey mutters, rushing to catch up again. Kane’s anger surprises him. “I don’t care if you are. I’m breaking like....every rule possible just being here.” He pauses, scuffing at the dirt. “‘s all cool. Y’know. Be gay, do crime.”

Kane bursts into laughter, stopping in the road for a second. “Real rebel, huh?” he asks, shooting Benrey a grin that he returns nervously. “Fitting, then, for you to break out with a thief.”

Benrey’s grin widens, delighted. “Hah! I was right.”

“Yeah, yeah, congratulations, Blueberry.” The smile twists at the corners, as Kane leans closer to Benrey. “But that means we’re in my business now. So what about yours? You said you're breaking every rule right now. So... you weren't allowed outside that tower for some reason?”

That same empty expression makes a return as Benrey freezes. Twirling a strand of hair around his fingers, he clears his throat, forcing himself to start moving again. Walked right into that one, huh? And he’s not a coward, he’s not gonna refuse to answer after he finally got Kane to admit something. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I, uh. Yeah. Not allowed. Very not allowed.”

If Zeki knew what he was doing right now - she’d kill him. Worse than kill him. Beside him, Kane’s gaze is soft, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed.

“Well…” he starts, “sometimes, you just gotta do what feels right, even if it hurts or makes someone mad. Trust me on that, I know from experience.” To punctuate his last words, he nudges against Benrey’s arm, almost affectionate. Benrey jumps for a second, hand darting to touch the spot Kane had brushed against, almost expecting it to feel different somehow. But no, it’s just his arm.

“Experience,” he repeats quietly. “Uh, yeah. I mean - I’m here.”

“That you are, Mr. Independent.”

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #benrey #gordon feetman #frenrey #benrey hlvrai #cora writes #tangled au #tangled up #adventures of cora

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whereflowersbloom · 3 years

Text

Sealed Fate

The Western horizon was on fire: hot pink turned into mauve, wild orange into gold, the bright colours fading into paleness, then darkness. It was the day they whisper their vows before the gods, both Raven and Damian believed that love was not what stood at the foundation of their pledge, at least not the kind that fate had in store for them. No, that’s what they want to believe, what truly mattered most at this point was peace, peace through political marriage rather than an overwhelming affection. Peace. Damian, the youngest son of King Bruce and the noblest of all of Gotham’s princes, living or dead. As King Bruce was only left with Damian and Richard. Raven, a demigod, sired by Trigon the Terrible and mortal Arella.

The fragile truce between Gotham and Azarath balanced on the tip of a blade, depending on this union of convenience. Kon-El was wearing a scowl that would freeze unquenchable fire from the House of Hades. She could feel Trigon’s dark eyes burning into her face, the harsh, singeing heat of a desert behind it. She wanted to run, but she was also afraid of him giving chase. What was the point anyway. Before coming to Gotham, she knew how to fly, wings spread wide, flying away, her shoulders have borne heavy burdens, heavy burdens of solid stone. Oh she prayed to fly away from them, and roam the freedom of the sky, but her father had cut off both her wings and left her rooted to the ground. There would no longe mountain's peaks with the promise of wondrous views to keep. It all came to an end the day her father told she had been promised to Damian: Prince of Gotham, the great. Gotham the glorious. Gotham the magnificent. She should be honored, but her thoughts and feelings on the matter were inconsequential as the advice of a woman in wartime.

A week later she found herself at her wedding feast. Wearing a silver attire, a veil, a lilies and myrtle garland, and a golden headband. The Brothers and sisters her husband had in plenty, raised to be warriors they fought during war to lose their short lives. Helena and Timotheos had fallen. No body of Jason had been found after the last battle with Crete. She only met her husband her wedding day. He was reserved but polite and not overly perfumed, and when her eyes fell on him she thought of Narcissus. Narcissus, who had been unable to pull away from his own reflection in the pond, enchanted by his own beauty until death claimed him. Although the way her tutor had prattled on and on about Damian’s innumerable virtues, Raven had not expected him to be as radiant as a god. The sun-kissed skin stretched to wrap around muscles built from years of practicing complex military skills, broad shoulders and powerful arms, displaying strength and virility akin to a noble lion, movements of disconcerting grace for one so large. His facial features had a frank and honest quality to them, bright and deep-set eyes, as green as spring leaves with the touch of Persephone, a Greek nose, full lips. He was a God in beauty and stature. Reluctantly, tore her gaze from his beautiful face and focused on her new family. They have been so impeccably polite, specially Richard. ‘Welcome my good sister. We are all so blessed to have you.’ Blessed. Blessed child she had been called once long ago.

Do you feel blessed, my dear sister?” Richard asked, passing a golden wine cup into her hand. His wide smile meant no harm nor his words. As she grew up Raven was left to learn how to smile and laugh prettily at compliments that made her skin crawl, feign the innocence of any maiden her age.

Blinking several times, she looked back at him and smiled weakly. “Of course, brother.”

Richard was all dancing, light and lean seduction, dark myrrh hair and flushed red lips, rosy cheeks and aristocratic arched eyebrows, adorning himself in a blue and gold tunic. Her new brother appeared to be content to sit in the shadow of his younger brother and watch him gleam in all his glory. Cassandra did not speak with her, she was the only calm in the midst of a storm of abrupt adjustment. She tried to pay no heed to the murmurs of gossiping women at the feast, eyes green with envy as she had married the godlike prince. Foreign seductress. Demon spawn.

Bruce and Olivier discussed vehemently about warfare and politics with Kal-El and Kon-El. Diana and Artemis were carrying an excited conversation about traveling and Shiera’s recent journey in Egypt. She caught no sight of Trigon to her relief.

Trigon. Other gods might have roared their pleasure at the skills and intelligence of their offspring, praised their achievements for all to hear whilst filling themselves to the brim with nectar. Not Trigon, who wanted to sire no child but found himself infatuated with Arella, bedding her out of enjoyment.

If she were godly, truly a deity, in all of its ways with fantastical unlimited power, then one could not help but ask: Would Trigon praise her then? Did he not want her because she bled red as earthlings. As I’d guessing what she was thinking her husband finally spoke.

“For a deity to come down on solid ground isn’t seen many times. For her to wed a mortal willingly is even more ambiguous.” Damian exhaled softly, standing right next to her. His voice was so deep, so soothing and alluring as she had imagined.

“I am no deity. I am the undesired offspring of the god of death.” She said in a choked voice. Not sure if he was mocking the nature of her position. Green eyes alight with amusement.

“You are anything but undesired, wife.” Damian responded, voice low in his throat, and private; a voice she knew in her bones he meant only for her. His face reflected an earnest expression filled with so much pure-hearted sincerity that it stole Raven’s breath away

No man had ever spoken of passion or desire to Raven, and all that she knew of such words she had overheard her tutors speak, or learned from old songs; the glory of being called beautiful in tones, not of cool reason but burning emotion flooded her entirely. She was desired. Biting her lip, her face flushed, and shining starlight hair drooping over her face as if that would somehow hide how obviously close to tears she was.

Damian smiled serenely and Raven felt like he’d seen the sun. Resembling the sun and light, Apollo.

He had a gentleness to him that is completely foreign to her experience, not seen at first sight, discerning the heavy emotions in his eyes. Raven did not know before that it was possible for men to be gentle. One glance and she thought of him kissing her mouth, just as he thought of tasting her skin. Uncertainty lies in her desire for the reciprocal dedication to infallible ardour.

Air. Her lungs were in need of air.

~~~

She went to the garden of Thetis, to sit among the flowers and watch the moon-washed stars. The goddess of flowers must have visited bringing brightness and beauty wherever she stepped, as she appreciated a patch of narcissus, foxgloves, hyacinth, and delphinium displaying tightly clustered flowers upon tall stalks in varied blues and purples, in full bloom, surrounded by the thick chorus of crickets chirping all around. With all thoughts of threats and protecting her homeland, Raven found herself strangely empty. It wasn’t hollowness: it was the emptiness of shock, of disbelief and misunderstandings when everything you’d imagined was pulled out from underneath you and she was suddenly living in a reality where someone admired her? Yearn for her touch rather than fear her.

“Raven.” Kon-El sighed her name as he walked closer to her, fabric softly trailing on the grass and it made Raven tremble. His ocean eyes saddened, darkened, burning through her and reducing anything to ash, to nothingness. There were things that must be said but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize.

“When Morpheus came to me in my dreams. I did not dare look upon his godly figure. But I heard his voice like a thunder from grand Zeus. He promised your hand would be mine to hold.” The words had come bitter and aching with such profound loss that it made her throat tighten with his emotion.

“I have a husband now, Kon.” She mumbled quietly, using his infancy name, casting her gaze downwards. “They were nothing but hollow words, grains of sand carried upon the wind of Aeolus.” His disapproval at the mention of the word husband was obvious.

Attempting to reason with him to not make a claim of a right that was no longer his. She could sense his anger, regret, sorrow. Envy . Why do you look at me in such way? Why do you look at me as if you pity me? Why do you look at me with eyes filled with sorrow and hatred, all at once? Where did her sweet and naughty Kon go? She wished to voice those questions.

With clenched fists, he nodded. “It’s for the gods to decide as our fate lies in their hands.” Kon-El spoke solemnly with unshakable conviction. “You have a husband tonight, but take heed as The Fates could cut his thread of life coming morrow.” He bowed down and left without saying no more.

No. No. He would not dare. Notion spit forth from such a place of hate, fear and confusion like its like a venom small at first or great yet if allowed it to take over fully.

The night was calm, witness of the conversation between two old friends, the stifling hot of the day finally giving way to a coolness which smelled like an approaching storm. Yes, she could feel it, there was a storming coming with the unforgiving and celestial ire of Zeus.

~~~

The feast passed quickly, with laughter and high spirits carrying it along. However, Raven could never quite relax after hearing Kon-El’s threatening words. And there was the bedding ceremony to proceed, not in public. Thank to Merciful Elea.

Torchlight played on Raven’s face as she motioned with her hands like a sorceress, then the royal peplos she wore dropped off her like the skin off a snake and she emerged. Goddess Nyx in human form, her breasts round and ripe and firm, her belly flat and sculpted thighs, the tangle of dark hair between her legs an invitation and a challenge. She was bare before him. So very delicate, so vulnerable, so unlike anything he’d ever laid eyes upon. It intrigued him, that vulnerability, laid bare for him to see under the soft glow of the torches. The daughter of the God of death.

What a curious creature she was. Gifted with the beauty of Aphrodite, the mysterious eyes of Nyx, holding the stars of Orion in them. They had been in his mind on and off at the feast, wrapped up in the hazy, sweetly intoxicating lull of inebriation.

As he looked down then back up her body, to her timid eyes, no challenge in them, though her lips still twisted in a semblance of indecision. Doubt. It was obvious that while she was not truly frightened of him, nonetheless the shadow of doubt and tension was present. Damian swallowed hard. He had avoided looking at her more than necessary during the ceremony but he gave into temptation as Aphrodite whispered in his ear all the ways he could have her. He did not like Gods nor their offspring. The Gods enjoyed tricking mortals for their own merriment. But, she was his wife and there was no escaping now. He cursed quietly for his mortality.

Raven dug her pearly teeth into the fleshy hills of her bottom lip, reminding herself to stay in control, taking a deep breath, fists clenched at her side as she took a brave step forward. “My prince.”

“Damian.” He corrected immediately as he straightened up for a fraction of a second before he bent his head and allowed his lips to graze Raven’s ear. “My name is Damian.”

With uncommon courage, she reached for the clasp holding his jade tunic under his chin. The heavy cloth sighed down around their feet. With a delicate feather-like touch, Raven traced the longest scar on his bronze body that went from Damian’s left shoulder down to his right hip. His breath hitched at the sudden invasion, but relaxed into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. No one had ever dare touch him intimately without his permission.

She could see hidden amongst the bright hues an emerald green clouding over with Damian’s lust. Their lips melded together as if they were made for each other and moved in sync as Damian threaded her fingers into Damian’s thick raven locks. Damian gently nipped her lower lip, and when she gasped heavily against his, he slid his tongue inside the warm cavern of her mouth to meet hers.

Her mind temporarily muddled with an electrical charge coursing through her veins making it hard for her to focus on any one part of her anatomy than her mouth against his. Everything tingles, starting at the back of her neck and rushing down, an uncomfortable yet exhilarating heat razing through her nerves only to whirlpool in her lower belly, churning, before continuing down all the way to her toes. He tasted like pure ambrosia.

As they continued kissing, his lips become eager, desperate, feverish. She’s never been kissed like this before. Kon-El had kissed her cheeks out of mischief a few times when they were children. Innocent love. Never with parted lips and tongue, with a hunger that would scare her had the same kind of hunger not driven her own greedy mouth to kiss and suck and nip. And yet she knew with the wisdom of Athena, that even if she’d kissed a hundred men a thousand times, nothing would ever compare to this.

Peppering her neck with kisses and listening to her gasp his name, he carried her slowly to the crimson bed where he laid her down. Dragging his teeth gently downwards, along the expanse of her sweet, alabaster skin. There all shyness was replaced with audacity and devotion. Not being able to resist the urge, he bit into her neck, at her pulse point where he could feel her unsteady heartbeat against his tongue as he laved at it.

Hands that were calloused and large and warm and so very gentle for a warrior, as they find their way roaming her natural curves. They skimmed over her thigh and hip, caress the soft skin of her waist, ghost over the swell of her breasts. His mouth, hot and wet, closed around her breast and sucks lightly, thus making her suck in a sharp breath. Expert tongue swelling around her pink nipple. What in the name of Hera he was doing to her? She wanted more. More. More.

Raven cannot utter a single word. Her mouth too dry, her mind too drunk on arousal, to form any coherent phrase. Calling his name between small whimpers showing her heightened ecstacy. This must be Elysium in all its glory. It was such a sweet torture.

Damian thought to himself she tasted like earth, starlight, like flowers blooming in the night. What was he thinking? She was his wife, no more. Daughter of his nemesis. His young heart hammering inside of his chest, the memory of his mother’s voice haunting him as she vanished with the wind.

Something flared in Damian then, flared up in his chest and his belly like a flaming arrow shot high to signal the start of a nighttime raid, and he seized her hips and pushed up inside her. Raven groaned softly in pain. Fear sent her stomach and chest quaking, her breaths coming short and fast, mind flooded with words of maidens about the pain of maidenhead being taken. At first, his strokes were slow, but his eyes do not look upon her face. The flower garland tumbled off her head and was crushed under their grappling bodies, the scent of a summer noon briefly filling the night.

She opened her legs wider and wrapped them around Damian following her instincts. Her velvet heat encased him, and he had to restrain himself from descending into madness at the pleasure. He felt like he was drowning in the Aliakmonas, the river swollen with melted snow. Raven’s round breasts goaded him, her hands caressed him tenderly, her ripeness clenched around him. As he started thrusting faster, harder, pumping in and out of her at an erratic pace. Damian drops his forehead to her shoulder, an animal like grunt in her ear, and she heard herself moan along with him. She even shifted her hips so that he hits her just right, his pubic bone rubbing against a sensitive spot his hand had touched.

He could tell she was close by the way her walls were fluttering around him, and he brought one of his hands down between them to rub circles onto her bundle of nerves. Damian also angled his hips enough to reach for the deep spot in the center of women that made them cry with satisfaction with each push.

Something inside her tightens, inside her belly where a babe will grow with the blessings of the gods, and then another wave of pleasure washed over her, pulling such a loud moan from her it should leave her ashamed, but she doesn’t care. Sweat beds clouding her vision, and the ragged breath of her husband hot against her moonlight skin, salty with sweat.

He reached climax and came harder than he had ever. His thrusts slowed, hips stilling as he emptied himself, thick, hot, white ropes of his seed filling her up to the hilt. Letting out a weary sigh he removed his body atop hers, carefully. It was done. Fulfilled his duty he told himself. A clear lie. Damian considered cupping her cheek and kissing her temple but he couldn’t do it. No. His features hardened as he turned away from her.

“I will show you respect as my wife. I will please you in all the ways a husband and lover can. But do not ask me to love you, for that is not an oath I can honor.” His voice came out hoarser and raspier than ever in the darkness, before rolling to the other of the bed preparing to fall in the arms of Morpheus.

There was an emptiness inside of her soul, her center she couldn’t describe. Waiting to be full again. Aching. Pulsing. Whirling.

“But I thought…” Raven began, a lump forming in her throat, not wanting to admit that she had hoped he could ever find love with her. Perhaps fondness. What about the gentleness he had shown her? The words died with the quietude of the royal chamber as if Harpocrates had made himself present.

Perhaps coming morrow with the grace of Apollo, he would bring Damian’s gentleness back to her. All she can do is hope and pray tonight. A lone tear slipped down her face as she closed her eyes.

Notes: Hello it’s me again with a new AU. Sorry not sorry. Had to get it out of my system 😂😂😂😂🙈🙈🙈🙈

Do not panic please. This is the first chapter and there will be Damirae fluff I promise. Happy Damirae moments and probably more smut than in other stories 👀👀

Hope you all enjoy. @ravenfan1242 @tweepunkgrl @chromium7sky @deepbreadlover @timid-soot-sprite @kallura-juniblade @shewhowillnotbenamed1 @andthendk @alerialblu

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Nightmare

Can’t stop writing me some soft Roman and Virgil!

He was stupid. This was so, so stupid. What was he even doing here, hand hovering over the door, poised to knock, if he could just steel himself enough to knock…

He bit back a growl of frustration at his own cowardice. It felt like butterflies gnawing at his stomach, crawling up his throat, buzzing in a panic in his head, making his shoulders hunch higher. It was the fear of the dark of a child, the fear of the monsters under the bed, the fear of everything and nothing, the fear of the unknowns.

Because what if it hadn’t been a simple nightmare? What if it had really happened and he’d sunk back to his room and cried himself to sleep and everything being fine and perfect and normal was the dream? What if he knocked, and was met with cold, icy eyes?

What if Roman did as threatened and ran him through before he could say a word?

What if Patton told him, so gently it was cruel, that he was a nuisance, a bother?

What if Logan produced his journal, filled with reason upon cold, undeniable reason, that he was simply a hindrance?

What if they were right?

He couldn’t, couldn’t face them. He should just go back to his room and wait for one of them to come looking. If they came looking then it hadn’t been real, but he could not stand to face them if it had been.

He didn’t know why it was Roman's door, he was hovering outside of. Perhaps because the prince was always so blunt. He would know, immediately, with Roman. Maybe it was because he couldn’t take anymore gentle devastation from Patton, any more pure evidence of his detriment from Logan. Maybe because he hoped to god even if it was real, that Roman would somehow pity him enough to let him in anyway, before sending him away for good.

He bit his lip, hand shaking. Do it, just do it, why was this so hard? The longer he waited, the worse it got, the gnawing becoming a pit becoming a black hole in his stomach and he was just about to shuffle away when the door opened, revealing a yawning, bleary eyed Roman.

He froze, fear and hope and shame welling in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Then Roman spoke.

“I thought I heard you out on patrol, Stormy Knight. Wandering the halls so early?”

He burst into tears.

Because Roman had spoken softly, Roman had smiled tiredly, Roman didn’t draw his sword or snarl or slam him against the wall and tell him to never come back, and it had been a dream, just a dream, and nothing, nothing could match the pure relief flooding through him.

“Virg? What's wrong? Are you hurt?” Roman asked. Roman was worried. Was worried about him.

He shook his head, barely able to speak through the tears, through the what ifs still running and running and running through his mind, so loudly.

“H-had to s-see… didn’t kn-know…” he wasn’t being coherent, he barely knew what he was trying to say, but Roman must have understood, in some way.

Carefully, slowly, Roman reached out, tugging Virgil close, wrapping his arms around the lanky side.

“This ok?” He asked, when Virgil didn’t respond at all to his touch. He felt Virgil nod, and he choked out something that was maybe a yes.

Roman nodded, resting his head atop Virgil's, humming softly and he gently swayed with Virgil in his arms.

“there now, my little black hole. It’s alright.” He cried harder at that, somehow, and his hands fisted the fabric of Roman's pajama top, clinging to him as if his life depended on it.

He was barely aware of Roman swaying, murmuring gentle nonsense, as his tears finally gave way to hiccupping gasps, as he sagged against Roman.

“sorry… im sorry, I-"

“Virgil. It is ok, its ok.” He buried his head against Roman, he didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes. “shall we get you back to bed?” his eyes widened, and he shoved out of Roman's embrace, stumbling until his back hit the wall.

“N-no. No! I c-can’t, I c-cant do it a-again, I-" he broke off, breath heaving, hands tangling in his hair as he fought for air, the world blurring around him.

“Kiddo, ya just aren’t really helping Thomas, y'know? It might be better if you just… stopped."

“His productiveness goes down 40 percent whenever you are around, and you also have a damaging effect on his social life. There is no if. Thomas will be empirically better without you.”

“il… eath… please…” no no no no. They were right, of course they were right, he wasn’t good, wasn’t needed, wasn’t-

“virgil.” His eyes shot up, Roman was kneeling a foot away from him, eyes warm with sympathy and concern and understanding. “can you hear me?” he swallowed dryly, managing a small, shaky nod, and Roman's face lit up with a gentle smile.

“good. Then listen to me, ok? You are never unwanted. We love you, I love you. I will never tell you to leave. And I would fight the others if they said otherwise. It was a nightmare, Virge. Just a nightmare.” Slowly, Roman reached out, ever so careful as he tucked Virgil's bangs back, letting his hand rest gently against Virgil's cheek.

“P-p-promise?” Roman's heart broke at that quiet vulnerability, his eyes wide as saucers, filled with a broken kind of hope, a shattering kind of pain.

In an instant, Roman had scooted closer, scooping Virgil onto his lap, cradling him close.

“I promise. I promise, Virgil. I promise.” He let out a soft sniffle, shoulders shaking as he wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck, face pressed against his shoulder, he was tired, so tired, but the fear ate at him, even as Roman rocked him, rubbing his back, murmuring and humming and being so patient with him. And somehow every small action, every small movement of kindness and love sent him back over the edge into tears. They were seemingly endless. He didn’t remember bottling this much up inside, didn’t remember when he shoved all this sadness and deep, aching, endless fear into his chest, but he couldn’t stop it from leaking out now.

“Oh, darling… I know. I know.” He didn’t know how long they had been kneeling there on the floor, but he was exhausted, yet completely unwilling to let go of Roman, too tired to be ashamed of his need for touch right now, too warm and sleepy to force on his dark demeanor, and pretend that he didn’t want this, need this, crave this closeness. “Sometimes talking about nightmares can make them better. That’s what we always do, me and Remus. We tell each other our nightmares, and then we make them better. We say all the ways we would defeat whatever monster hurt or chased or scared us, we turn the fears into something ridiculous. Once, I was being hunted through the imagination, by some giant, shambling, thing. I couldn’t leave the bed, I was terrified. Remus said next time I had that dream, I should imagine the thing trying to move with roller skates on, I should imagine it with googly eyes, I should make its body turn into playdough and its legs into pipe cleaners. It wasn’t so scary after that.” Roman said, getting a small, weak laugh out of Virgil, who shook his head.

“maybe. Maybe in the morning. But i… I can’t… right now, I can’t…”

“That’s ok, too, darling. You don’t have to tell me anything. You don’t have to talk about it. It just may help. Do you wanna spend the rest of the night with me?” He nodded, so fast it made his head spin. He couldn’t bear to go back to his room alone, he would die, if he had to go back alone. “alright. Going up, then, my sliver of starlight.” He let out a soft noise as he was lifted up in Roman’s arms, the fading adrenaline and minor panic attack weighing him down, so he was very nearly asleep by the time Roman carefully settled the two of them in his bed.

He curled tight against Roman, letting out a small happy sigh, at the warmth, at the touch, at the comfort as Roman wrapped his arms around him, cuddling him close and gently, thumb stroking his forehead in blissful, soothing circles.

“go to sleep, Virg. No nightmares will find you here. I promise, love.” Roman murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, causing him to let out a soft, small almost mewl at how damn good he felt. “Sleep well, love. Sweet dreams.”

And they were.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #emotional hurt/comfort #protective roman #fluff

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writer1 · 3 years

Text

A regretful Wolf and his Beauty

Chapter Nine

Beast!Rex x Fem!reader

Summary: As punishment for his actions, young prince Rex was cursed to become a monster by a witch. The only thing that saved him from his fate was an enchantress, who gave him a condition. He has to find true love in order to redeem himself and he only has until the last petal of the enchanted rose falls. Rex's family helps you by guiding your way into his heart. Rex's fate now lies in your hands.

A/N: This is a collaborative fic with @ahsokatano-thetogruta.

Warnings: mention of starvation and sickness. Mistreatment of Ezra

Threepio gallops as fast as he can, following the path that your father took, leading you to a large castle. The fog lays low along the ground. “What is this place?” Threepio suddenly rears his head back with fear as he neighs. “Threepio! Please, steady.” you hop off of his back and then pull his face close to yours to calm him down. “Steady.” Threepio calms down.

You look at the gates, seeing that they are adjar. Through the bars, you see something on the ground. When you realise what it is, you gasp. You run through the gate and pick up your Father's hat. “Papa.” You feel worried for him, but you ready your sword while walking towards the castle entrance.

xxx

Fives sits with head on his hands on the edge of Cody's table top as the guilt swells up inside of him for what happened to Echo earlier. He wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if anything had happened to his twin. “Fives.” He looks up to see Echo standing next to him. “It's okay, I'm alright.” he tries to reassure Fives.

“I...I was just trying to be hospitable.” His candles dim down a little. “You could have gotten so much more hurt. Or worse-”

“It's alright Fives, it's not your fault.” Echo gives him a hug, being careful of the candles. "Hello?! Papa?!" Fives and Echo both jump at the female voice, they look at eachother.

"Cody! Did you hear that too?" Cody nods, shuffling to turn toward the voice. "Yeah, it must be the man's daughter. He's the only person she would be looking for." Echo shudders, thinking about what he did to him. They all freeze when a girl in armor walks by. They watch her go, then all jump up.

"We need to get Rex, now." Fives nods, leaving Echo on Cody and hopping off to find his older brother. This is not good.

xxx

“Buir! Buir!” Plo turns around to see four little teacups hopping up to him. “Buir, there's a girl in the castle!” Wolffe shouts out. Plo just shakes his head.

“Stop telling jokes, Wolffe. We've already had enough trouble for one day.” Plo finishes filling up the bowl of warm water for his adopted sons. “Really, we saw one.”

“Not another word.” “But--” Wolffe, along with his brothers, are picked up and placed in the water, making a small splash.

“A girl!” Plo is startled, turning around to see Kiara. “I saw a girl in the castle!”

Wolffe bobs out of the water. “See. I told ya.”

xxx

You search the castle, heading down to the dungeon. You walk down the long, steep stairs. "Papa! Are you here." You listen carefully. "Shiny!" It's quiet, but you hear his voice. You run down the stairs even faster, finally finding him in a cell. He's sick, and shivering.

"Oh, Papa. You're going to be okay. I promise!" You grip his hand through the bars. Your Papa shakes his head rapidly. "No, no. You… You have to get out of here, Shiny." You shake your head.

"No! I won't leave you!" Bail curses under his breath. "Shiny, you don't understand. There's a terrifying beast here, he'll trap you too, Go!" He pushes you away through the bars, but you will not give up on him. You pick up your sword, swinging it and trying to cut the lock off. Bail had already backed away.

"I'm getting you out of here, Papa! If it's the last thing I do!" Before you go to swing, you feel a large hand grab your shoulder, pulling you away from the cell. You gasp and lose your grip on your sword and it goes flying down the passageway and into the darkness.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!!” The loud, growly voice makes you stumble back hard against the wall, but luckily your armour protects you so it doesn't hurt as much.

“Who's there?” you frantically look into the darkness for whoever just spoke. “Who are you? Are you the one who imprisoned my father?!” You try to sound as fearless as you can, but the darkness and whistling of wind blowing down into the dungeon just adds to how terrifying this place is.

“The master of this castle.” The stranger growls at you as you sense it walking around. “I've come for my Father. Please, let him out! Can't you see, he's sick-”

"THEN HE SHOULDN'T HAVE TRESPASSED HERE AND HURT MY BROTHER!” His voice makes you tremble slightly, worried that he won't let your father go. You are confused, but all that matters right now is Bail's safety “But he could die. Please, I'll do anything!”

A growl is let out again. “There's nothing you can do. He's my prisoner.” The voice walks away. “There must be some way I can-'' You then have an idea. “Wait!” They stop just before they leave, growling once again.

You look at your father for a moment before looking back towards the darkness. “Take me instead!”

“YOU-” He pauses as his expression softens, still masked by the shadows. “You would...take his place?” You nod.

“Shiny, no! You don't know what you're doing!” Bail screams out, worry washing over him like crashing waves in a stormy sea. You try to ignore his pleading. “If I did...would you let him go?”

“Yes. But, you must promise to stay here forever.” He steps into the light ever so slightly, making you look skeptical at him. "Step into the light?" You ask him, making the stranger huff nervously before sighing. He slides one foot into the light, then his whole body. You breathe in sharply.

He's a werewolf, you know that for sure. You've read many books about them, he has blonde fur, his head is that of a Wolf's, with piercing honey- brown eyes.

He has a snout with razor sharp teeth, his body is more or less covered by his cape, but you can see that he's human esque from the neck down until you get to his legs.

They have haunches, then turn into wolf-like feet. His hands have claws as well. His ears press back against his head. His pants are ripped and shredded, and he has a fluffy tail swishing behind him.

"Do you still want to trade places?" He asks, but you bravely nod, something he was not expecting, not even from a knight. "Fine, your choice." He rushes into the cell, grabbing your Papa and carrying him out. You rush in.

"Wait! Let me say goodbye!" You yell, but the monster just keeps going, dragging Bail behind him. You stand in the now locked cell, holding back your tears.

You will give no one the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You walk around the room, knowing that this will be all you'll see from now on, but you're happy that your Papa is at least safe.

You take your helmet off and sit down against the wall, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep. It takes a few minutes but you manage to fall asleep after the day you had.

xxx

"Hello?" You open your eyes to see that the monster has returned, he looks at you, almost timidly. "What do you want?" You ask him angrily, he flinches at your cold, hard glare. If looks could kill he swears that he would be dead the second you looked at him.

"I… I came to take you to your room." You feel confusion fill you. "Room? What do you mean, room? I'm not going anywhere with you!" You tell him, crossing your arms. He glares at you. "Well, would you rather stay in here. Because it would save me a lot of trouble."

You sigh in defeat. "Fine." You stand up, and he leads you out the door. You note that he walks on two legs.

He has a smirk on his face that makes your blood boil. Rex feels satisfaction in getting you to leave the cell, he finds you very stubborn. It annoys him to no end. He's happy to have won this small victory against you.

The both of you walk out of the dungeon and up into the castle, darkness still surrounding you. The rooms you pass by are huge, nothing like you are used to back at your small cottage. “The castle is where you'll be living now. You can go anywhere you like, but you are not allowed to go to the west wing.”

“What's in the west-” “IT'S FORBIDDEN!” You feel a shock of fear pulse through you, but after a moment you just feel annoyed at him.

“I'm only curious.” you say as you finally reach the bedroom that you'll be staying in. Rex made sure that no one was living in it when he picked it out for you.

He opens the door for you, letting you in “You will be having dinner later in the dining room. That is not a request!” he growls as he slams the door behind you.

You walk to the bed and slump down on the floor beside it, only being able to think about your father. But knowing that he's safe now makes you feel somewhat better.

xxx

Back in town, the tavern is lively, filled with music. Though sitting by the fire is Maul, feeling solemn and gloomy.

“Who does she think she is? That girl has tangled with the wrong man. No one says no to Maul.” He hits his fist on his chest, trying to gesture how great he is.

“Huh! Darn right.” Ezra is walking up behind him, being careful not to spill the beer that Maul told him to get for him. The only reason the eleven year old is allowed in the tavern is because of Maul.

“Dismissed! Rejected! Publicly humiliated!” He shouts out, grabbing the drink Ezra was carrying to him “Why, it's more than I can bear.” He drinks the whole lot in a few gulps.

“More beer?” Ezra offers kindly, making Maul glare at him before turning away and slumping in his chair. “What for? Nothing helps. I'm disgraced.”

Ezra looks at him in confusion “Who, you? Never! Gaston, you've got to pull yourself together. Gosh it disturbs me to see you, Maul, looking so down in the dumps." Ezra starts singing to his hero, trying to cheer him up.

"Ev'ry guy here'd love to be you, Maul. Even when taking your lumps." Ezra swings around one side of the chair, but Maul just turns away. Ezra huff's.

"There's no man in town as admired as you. You're everyone's favorite guy." Ezra moves around his chair, trying to see Maul's face.

"Ev'ryone's awed and inspired by you. And it's not very hard to see why. No one's slick as Maul. No one's quick as Maul." Ezra starts singing and dancing around his idol, he's actually happy for once in his life.

"No one's neck is as incredibly thick as Maul's. For there's no man in town half as manly. Perfect, a pure paragon! You can ask any Tom, Dick or Stanley. And they'll tell you whose team they prefer to be on." The rest of the tavern stand up, it seems that they might join in.

"No one's been like Maul. A king pin like Maul." The rest of the tavern sings along, trying to cheer up their strongest member, Ezra can see that it's working. Hopefully this helps him avoid that beating tonight.

"No one's got a swell cleft in his chin like Maul." Ezra jumps over near Maul again. "As a specimen, yes, I'm intimidating!" Maul finally gets up and starts singing.

"My what a guy, that Maul! Give five "hurrahs!" Give twelve "hip-hips!" Ezra and the tavern sings as Maul flexes.

"Maul is the best and the rest is all drips." The little boy sings his heart out as the tavern joins in once he finishes. "No one fights like Maul. Douses lights like Maul."

Ezra jumps back over to Maul. "In a wrestling match nobody bites like Maul!"

"For there's no one as burly and brawny." The triplets sing. And giggle as Maul picks up the bench that they are sitting on. "As you see I've got biceps to spare."

“Not a bit of him's scraggly or scrawny” Ezra gets thrown around a little by one of the guys, he hits the ground, groaning as he gets up.

"That's right! And ev'ry last inch of me's covered with hair." Maul pulls his shirt down, revealing his hairy chest.

"No one hits like Gaston. Matches wits like Gaston." Everyone sings together, feeding the Zabrak's ego even more. "In a spitting match nobody spits like Gaston." Ezra swings as he spits on the floor.

“I'm especially good at expectorating! Ptooie!” Maul sings as he spits much farther than Ezra. “Ten points for Maul!” Everyone songs.

“When I was a lad I ate four dozen eggs, ev'ry morning to help me get large. Now that I'm grown I eat five dozen eggs, so I'm roughly the size of a barge!” Maul sings, making Ezra groan a little under his breath, he's heard that story many times since Maul found him. Ezra hates eggs, but Maul forces him to eat them.

“Oh, ahhh, wow! My what a guy, that Maul! No one shoots like Maul. Makes those beauts like Maul!” Ezra gets up, singing once again. “Then goes tromping around wearing boots like Maul.” Ezra stomps around to prove his point.

“I use antlers in all of my decorating!” Maul gestures to the decorations around the Tavern.”

“My what a guy, Maul!” Everyone sings out, cheering as they raise their drinks in the air.

The Tavern doors burst open, a gale of ice cold air blows in. “HELP! SOMEONE HELP!!” Everyone stops to see Bail come running in. They are all confused. “He's got her! He's got her locked in the dungeon!!” he grabs onto someone's shirt.

“Who?” They ask.

“Shiny! We must go, not a minute to lose!!”

Maul leans forward in his chair “Woah, slow down, Bail. Who's got Shiny locked in a dungeon?” he asks with a sarcastic and mocking look on his face.

“A werewolf!” Bail cries out. “A horrible, monstrous werewolf!” He stops and looks around at everyone, realizing that the room has fallen silent.

A moment later, everyone bursts out laughing at him, beginning to mock him. “Is it a big werewolf?” someone asks.

“Huge!”

"With a long, ugly snout?”

“Hideously ugly!”

“And sharp, cruel fangs?”

“Yes, YES! Will you help me?” Bail can't take anymore of this, feeling the worry for you build up with every passing second.

Maul stands up from his chair “Alright, Bail. We'll help you out.”

Bail feels happy for the first time today, a smile spread wide across his face. “You will? Oh thank you, thank you!” A male Twi'lek and a male Rodian pick him up by his arms, dragging him towards the entrance. They open the doors and throw Bail out into the snow. “Oh!” he cries in despair.

xxx

You’re sitting in your room, just minding your own business. You would try to escape, but you gave the monster your word. And you never go back on your word. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

You turn to the door, hearing the loud knocks, you look up at the time and realize you are missing dinner, you smirk with satisfaction. “I THOUGHT THAT I TOLD YOU TO COME DOWN FOR DINNER!!” The monster screams, you just lean against a wall, arms crossed. “I’m not hungry.”

“You come out now, or I’ll break down the door.” the monster says quietly, straining not to yell. “Try it.” you hiss, egging him on. He huffs angrily. “Fine, if you don’t eat with me, then you don’t eat at all.” you huff. “Fine by me.” The monster loses his temper now. “FINE!!!” you hear him stomp away, sitting down on your bed. You won’t leave this room, you don’t even care if you starve.

You won’t risk getting in that monster’s way, you have no idea if he’ll hurt you or not. And you don’t want to find out the hard way. You walk over, laying in your bed and curling up, ignoring the pain of hunger that is already starting.

xxx

“Rex’ika?” Rex turns to Cody, who’s shuffled up to the bed. “Do you need something, Ori’Vod?” Cody sighs, pressing his side against Rex’s hand that's hanging off the bed. Rex notices and lifts his hand up, setting it on Cody.

“Everyone’s hiding, they’re scared after what happened to Echo earlier. The girl is staying in a room now?” Rex nods, he just didn’t have the heart to leave her in the dungeon. “You shouldn’t have yelled at her.” Cody tells him simply, he had heard the commotion. Rex sighs. “I know, she just annoys me so much!”

“Give her time, Rex'ika. A lot has happened today, for all of us.” Cody leans up into Rex's hand, trying to comfort his little brother as much as he can.

“Yeah…” Rex sighs as he stares up at the ceiling. “It's just that we only have two and a half years left to break the curse. No one, not even her, will ever see me as anything but a monster.”

“Y-You a-a-are n-not a m-m-monster, O-Ori'Vod.” Rex looks to the other side of the bed to see the fifteen year old paintbrush float with ease onto the bed and then snuggle into Rex's side. Rex smiles “Thank you, Stutter.” Stutter wishes that his Ori'vod could see him smile. He's gotten used to being a paintbrush for the last twelve and a half years, but not being able to see his face makes him sad sometimes.

“Yeah, we'll always see you for who you are on the inside, Rex'ika.” Rex pats Cody's table top gently. “Thank you, Bubby.”

xxx

You wake up to stomach pains, you’re starving. You haven't eaten since lunch yesterday. You sit up to see almost all of your things in your room. Both your helmet and satchel. You stand up and walk over, grabbing your satchel. Your sword is nowhere to be found and you huff.

You sit on your bed, grabbing your book out of your satchel, you start reading it to distract yourself from the hunger pains. You have gone without food before, you and your papa aren’t the wealthiest people, you’ve gone through tough times. The way you got through it then was reading to take your mind off of it. After a few hours you put your book down, and take a look around the room. It looks like something from a dream, something that only a rich person could afford.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. You turn to the door. “Will you be joining me for dinner tonight.” it’s the monster once again, your stomach growls at the thought of food, but you ignore it. “I’m not hungry.” you tell him, but all you hear is grumbling from the otherside of the door.

“Fine, I’ll leave you alone then.” he whispers almost sadly, and you hear the monster walk off with heavy footfalls. You sigh, you wonder why he didn’t yell at you when you refused, like yesterday. But you ignore it, he might be trying to get your guard down, and you won’t let that happen. You lay down and go to sleep, ignoring the pain in your stomach. You cover up a raspy cough, you haven’t been feeling very well.

xxx

Rex sits in the kitchen, huffing as Gregor and the chef’s make dinner, because you refused to come again. This is the third time you’ve refused to eat dinner with him. “I can’t believe that she keeps refusing, I’ve asked her nicely… at least, the last few times I have.”

“I know Rex’ika. But she’ll come, you just have to be nice.” Cody reassures him, and Fives puts his candle out. Patting Rex’s arm. “Yeah Rex, it's going to be fine. You know, she must be eating while we’re asleep.” Fives tells him, and he nods. She has to be.

“What are you talking about?” Rex, Cody, Fives and Echo all turn when Gregor flies over. ”What do you mean, Gregor?” Rex asks, hes confused.

“I mean, no one comes in the kitchen at night. We thought that you guys had been taking her food?” Rex’s eyes widen at that. “You mean that she hasn’t been in here at all?!” The oven mitt shakes it’s head as good as it can, and Rex’s eyes widen.

“So she hasn’t eaten in about three days? Maybe more?” Cody asks, Rex can hear the worry in his brother’s voice. Rex thinks about what he said to you the first night. “It’s my fault.” Rex whispers, ears pressing against the back of his head in guilt, and Cody turns to him. “What are you talking about, Rex’ika?”

“I...The first night she was here, I told her that if she doesn't eat with me then she wouldn't eat at all.” Rex holds his head low, realising how bad it sounds now. He was so focused on getting you to eat with him that he hasn't given you anything to eat at all. Everyone who can, expresses a look of shock and worry. Even Echo, who was accidentally hurt by your father, feels concern for you.

“Do you know what she likes to eat?” Gregor asks Rex, ready to make you something to eat. “Uhm… I don't know.” Rex rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Okay, I'll make her some sandwiches with some ham and lettuce. Hopefully that will be okay for her.” Gregor gets to work, grabbing the equipment and ingredients required. “Thank you Gregor.”

“Rex.” He turns around to see Fives and Echo standing atop of Cody. “Fives and I would like to take her food to her.”

Rex shakes his head “No she could hurt y-” He pauses, realising that you probably won't have the energy to do anything or hurt them. “Okay, you can.”

“We'll leave it for her by her door and come straight back here, so don't worry, Rex.”

A few minutes later, Gregor had made some sandwiches, putting them on a tray along with some fruit. “Here, this should be enough for her.” Gregor says passing the tray to the twins. “Thank you, we'll be right back.” Fives had put his candles out on his hands so he wouldn't make the silver tray hot and ruin your food. He grabs the tray, along with Echo who grabs the other side. They both carry the tray out of the kitchen and up the stairs, it's a little difficult but the twins had figured it out over the years. They’ve had to bring food to Rex this way before. They arrive at your door, setting it down.

Fives knocks, then the two run around a corner to hide and wait. They wait for a few minutes, giving eachother worried glances. “What should we do, Fives?” Echo asks his twin, who thinks for a moment. “I’m going to go check on her, something’s wrong.”

Fives goes to walk away but Echo grabs his arm. “No, we should get Rex!” Fives shakes his head. “It’s quicker if I go, besides we’re twenty-one now! We don’t need to call Rex for everything. You stay here, I at least don’t have any pieces that can be removed!” Fives hops over to the door as Echo watches nervously.

Echo sighs and waddles as fast as he can up to the door. “We’ll go together.” Fives nods, and Echo uses his hands to give him a boost up to the doorknob. Fives turns it and hops off of Echo’s hands, then hops in followed by Echo.

“Hello, are you in here, miss?” Fives hops over to the bed, he sees you sleeping in it. He feels worry fill him when he realizes that you’re still in your armor. He turns to Echo. “Something’s wrong, she looks pale, and her armor is still on?” They jump when they hear you cough, it's small and raspy. It sounds really weak, like you’re out of breath.

“We should go get Rex and Cody, also Kix. Something’s really wrong!” Fives nods, agreeing with Echo, this isn’t fully from you not eating. “Lets go!”

taglist: @ellie1366 @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @lightning-wolffe @pinkiemme

@captainrexisboo

#beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast au #wererex #WereRex x reader #werewolf rex x reader #werewolf rex #knight reader #big brother Cody #star wars clone wars #star wars rebels #my writing #fives #echo #wolffe

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Ash Pt 10

Barks in the middle of a deep dream stirred you to another guest inside your bedroom. One peek however brought the small burrowing Prince to your focus who curled up with hold of one of your dog dolls then was burrowing more in his nest of a hiding spot to the roll of thunder that had you close your eyes and settle back into sleep again. The pair of guards however from the nursery now outside your apartment doors were the only sign for any who would come looking as to where the Prince was now hidden. By the time your breakfast wake up call came the boy was gone with just a folded paper crown that was left on the head of the dog doll he wasn’t clutching the night before.

Softly to yourself you chuckled and imagined next you’d be finding the boy trying to sneak into your library in a means to help himself to some new fairy tales as he had taken a fondness to your stuffed animals. Perhaps you might ask when his birthday was then try to find a pattern to stitch him up a set of his own stuffed animals to keep him safe at night since through the days he seemed to render so many of the Elf Lords helpless when he would go missing. Forest green pants were tucked inside your tall grey boots and socks to prep for anything possible, a grey sweater that hung past your hips with ties in cinched sections to separate the front and back longer sections to help digs into pockets when necessary. Loose down your back your freshly combed curls that held the freshly re-snapped gem beads were returned to their former locations.

“Today Ada?” Thranduil turned to find his son in his closet doorway with two robes in hand locked in choosing between them at the replay of the goodnight you had shared. “Left one, wear the mint for your offer intent of courtship.” Thranduil sighed and Legolas said, “Twice, I saw, twice the both of you kissed again.”

“Little Leaf,” he tried to plea in a shrug into the mint robe over his white tunic and crème pants and boots.

“No other reason for your head to bend that low otherwise.”

“I will offer.”

That had Legolas smile and extend his list, “Now, our ideas for a surprise courtship presentation. I will start with my favorites and one from Glorfindel then name the rest.”

Thranduil sighed feeling a tad bit lost as for how to impress you with this offer, or at least convey that this is a necessary step between the actual start of the public courtship in a system he was more than certain was vastly different to the one you had grown up with. He wanted to be your choice, not to be another obligation by means of wine laced intimacies, of which clearly he now had little control of displaying publicly. And now he merely had to convince you to let him clip in the feather accented chain decorations adorned with traditional small round bells and pendants of protection that also bore your sigils upon them. White, orange and dark grey were the colors chosen for his feathers, each significant and to mark his intentions for a future union paired with polka dotted grey feathers to pay homage in a playful way to your statement of weakness for freckled creatures.

So very badly he wanted this to work. He merely had to ask. Eat, rather, then wait and ask when you would arrive. For now he listened to the jumble of ideas on how to make the begin stage of a courtship with you a memorable one that you might be appreciative and find as memorable for its adoring nature. He just wanted to prove that he would love and cherish you as you ought to be or ought to have been by both family and former spouse. Surely you trusted him, he was your personal secretary and confidant and best friend here. Deeper trust would be gained upon consideration of courtship as far as physical contact would be concerned, but you had to know even in talks of children in the future that would never be rushed, merely near to the end of the courtship steps that followed the marriage ceremony itself. Consummation was never timed out, and the very last thing he would ever consider was to harm you by impatience or enabling a step too far should he imagine you uncertain at all.

He did love you, you are his One yet even before that just brief glimpses of who you truly were had him smitten beyond belief to himself. Intimacies had been made, and now to sustain his honor in your eyes an offer must be made. There would be no time limit, however long you wished to consider him he would proudly wait and then wait some more. He missed you, even just in a break for sleep should you agree to allow him to be yours perhaps at least an agreed upon joint breakfast or daily lunch cold be arranged in alternating schedules surrounding any possible meetings for him or shifts for yourself.

Anxious fidgets to the glasses settled on the table for the clock ended to the sound of the bell above the door that gave a chime to the obvious announcement of the very same woman the Prince had ceased speaking about to say through a wide grin. “I will let our Queen in. Just relax. She will not refuse the offer.”

To the door he went and left his father to listen the greeting at the door which ended to his stating of, “No, I am needed at the archery grounds. Prince Estel requires extra supervision for his lessons.”

“Oh, okay,” was his response and the timid ease of his front door shut left the King in a downward glance mid adoring chuckle to the careful approach of his One. Rather impatiently his feet however carried him from the spot he swore to himself he would wait, “Oh,” you murmured. And against a chance to memorize the adorably wide eyed moment when you saw him in front of you his body drooped to snap right back to how he hoped to say good morning to you.

Promptly to a hand in a short glide along your cheek his lips met yours. No chance to take hold of anything on his chest the brief kiss ended and left you in a silent moment of panic as to how to claim another moment like it. Your fingers however did tangle in his hair and lowly in a chuckle of relief to the tug that halted his retraction again inwards he melted to meet you halfway on a toe top rise and lingered there. And even when your lips did part still blind and tenderly he claimed the chance to hold his forehead to yours for a deliciously close step to the day he could brazenly take you up in his arms without reason of fear or by rules of a dance. He meant to pull back, well his head did and managed enough space to open his eyes with the beginnings of a smirk to the hand from his hair now in a slide up his wrist to melt his hand back to your cheek. What he hoped for as a sign of another plea for a kiss was enough to have him on the cusp of gasping.

To the pool of tears in your eyes and quiver of your lips his eyes took in every inch of the losing battle that just swept on top of you at once, “I like this,” you managed to squeak out in the fall of the first tear. Instantly your eyes clenched and in a momentary lean into his palm and open mouthed it hit him what you must have been repressing all this time. Surely you must have lived amongst creatures like the mortals here who are much more physically expressive of affections and to the sudden drop of three more tears and shake of your head his eyes met yours in their open. Forcefully you breathed out a half hearted chuckle and whispered, “I don’t know why I’m crying…”

One single sniffle broke the dam and from your cheek into your hair his hand moved in his step forward to hold you firmly while the sobs began to flood out. Timid at first in his hold soon enough your arms had laced around his middle and hands fisted in the cloth on his back as if he would dare to let go. He wouldn’t. Not until you had calmed. You didn’t know why you were crying. But in his embrace and the press of his cheek to the top of your head with his eyes clamped shut he felt that same ever present pain, though lessened, still there and breathing gasps that flooded you entirely in its try to overtake you again and spoil your future. The curse was gone but those scars still bled and he knew that battle all too well, the loneliness, the fear, the numbness when the climax of the pain threshold had been topped and doubts. He wouldn’t let go of you, not in this. This was why he wanted to wait, and now this was exactly why he couldn’t for just an offer of intent. For what felt like forever in his arms you wept and wept until the pain subsided and still in tears of embarrassment he held you still cursing each and every person who might have or had harmed you along with each and every year that had been spent inside that prison.

Behind your back your hand moved in his eventual ease back, in full sight of his inquisitive stare that watched a handkerchief be pulled from your back pocket that dabbed across your cheeks. “No apologies,” he said to cut you off. Words that had your eyes on him and he shook his head, “We all have pain. And sudden traps from such. No apologies.”

“I got your shirt wet.” You said and he shook his head. “You can’t say I didn’t. I saw you perfectly dry when I came in.”

“That is a matter of perspective.” Simply to a sniffle you shook your head and folded your handkerchief again in a glance around the hall then up to him again and his offered hand, “I have a question for you, might we sit?”

You nodded in the ease of your hand onto his palm for the stroll into his sitting room, right to your usual chair that he eased out and faced towards his after pocketing the handkerchief again. Curiously you took the seat offered and watched his motion to ease and turn his own chair that he brought in closer to yours to smile and settle into then scoop up your hands off of your lap to cradle and caress to calm his nerves in this. “Our cultures differ, of that we are certain.” You nodded lost for words. “Today however prior to our clock session and the unearthing of the mystery gift from Lord Girion of Dale I wished to express something to you.” You nodded again to the sense he was waiting for a reaction of some sort to keep going in his courage building pause. “I wished to request your consideration to an offer of intent for courtship between yourself and I.”

“So, you, you want to court me?”

“Yes. There are certain steps for our kin, and pray do take to consideration you have all the time in the world to consider my offer. This is how it is done, day to day everything will be to your comfort and upon notice from you of acceptance or refusal matters of custom amongst our courtship can discussed in further detail. Merely,” hastily he wet his lips, “I wish for you to feel safe, and confident in this choice, and this choice is yours. I will always be your One, no matter the choice and I shall always be devoted to your comfort and safety. As long as you need you have it for this weighty period of internal pondering for my placement in your heart and domestic days.” His eyes quickly darted over your face to take in your reaction when your brows scrunched up.

“You think I would turn you down?”

“You have every right to refuse my offer and any other presented to you. All I have is my offer, the power of choice belongs to you and no other. With my offer does come a second request, there is a token of pondering our kin adorn themselves with I might ask if you would accept the chance to display that you are in pondering of an offer of intent?”

“What, sort of token?” you asked and with a grin he brought out a box from beside his drink glass and revealed the feather accented hair decoration. “Oh that’s incredible,”

“Thank you, we craft them ourselves. Normally it is added to the hair. Would you accept it?” You nodded and again he smiled in a lean forward to gently find the right fold of curls to clip and weave the addition into. Eventually on the right side of your head it was secured and to your thanks he said, “No, thank you, I am eternally honored that you would display my token. For now, our clock is waiting.” Again you nodded and he rose to help you turn your chair to face the table then sit in his own rotated chair eager to get back to this test of your pairing that together was being bested and showed to be near completion.

Together all of the loose pieces had worked into small clumps now that at the clear sign from the clock to stop would have to be worked together possibly the following day. “Do you have more meetings?” you asked to break the silence of the topic of what to do next.

“No, oh, your gifts from Dale.” He said in a pop up to his feet for a stroll across the room to a trunk along the wall you didn’t notice earlier. Beside you he settled the trunk and undid the locks to ease the lip open revealing a duo of bound portraits and some more gifts underneath a sealed letter. To your approving nod he broke the seal of the letter and read the eloquent apology dripping with hopes to have a friendship in the future while you choose to humor that forgiveness you rightly had the choice to refuse him.

All the same from the first wrapped portrait your eyes fell on what would be revealed to be the black outline of a tree in the center of a sea of multicolored leaves in hues of red, orange, yellow and few pops of green. “Oh that’s pretty,” you said making the King grin in his own relief that the first of the gifts seemed to please you.

The second portrait of the upper half of an upright bear in a forest with some glowing butterflies, “That’s pretty too.” You said in looking the portrait over he set aside to reach into the trunk and bring out a wrapped bundle that upon unwrapping was a supply of various silks with odd color patterns that had you glance at the King, “Silk?”

“This is Gondorian silk. Quite a gift. Our Seamstresses could layer this for some rather elegant wraps if you wished. Are you pleased with the gifts?”

“They are all rather beautiful. An interesting mix, but I suppose what would you give to a stranger?” Lowly he chuckled and folded the silks back into their wrapping and settled them with the paintings back into the trunk.

“True, I shall gather some parchment and ink to pen your response.” Onto his feet he rose and while he moved you followed for a smirk once he saw that you were at his side upon reach of his desk in his study now stunningly devoid of any papers on the floor. Seated at his desk with quill ready he word for word copied in the bits that you chose and added more to fill in the blanks and fluff up what would be the first draft of the letter.

Amusingly enough for him in this joint venture of aid in a proper answer for such fine gifts on top of the task the simple place you had chosen to sit had him smiling ear to ear. With leg bent on top of the arm of the chair draped against his back to rest with arms settled on his shoulders and one down his chest to point out possible changes then tap anxiously on the pin at his neck. Absently you had found this position and without a word on a request to find this perch he relaxed to the feel of your chin on his shoulder and hair that fell down your side and over the end of his elbow now propped on top of your bent thigh that supported your weight. It wasn’t until the reach for his seal that inside the wooden box that in his lean the position became noticeable when you had to sit up to let his body give the slight lean necessary to reach said wax seal kit. His free hand however halted an entire flight from the spot in its place on your forearm that had slid back to his shoulder and guided in his lean back upright again you back against his back. “Stay comfortable. I shall copy this draft and you may inspect your new seal.”

“I have a seal?” He grinned and from the box removed the silver seal that reminded you in shape of a chess piece for the body that on the bottom you inspected the swan and pear accents tucked into the design. It wasn’t until his fingers had come into your view that you realized he had copied the draft already and required the stamp you brought into their reach. Quite deliberately each fingertip brushed along yours in the trade and once he was certain the ink was dried the presentation of the quill to you had you glance between the letter and his eyes before it clicked and you murmured, “Right, sign.” To himself he smiled and in an easy swivel in his seat the arm that blocked you was now around your hips to help keep you stable in the lean you took forward to sign the bottom of the letter underneath his copy of the runes for your title in their tongue.

Timidly post blow on the signature to dry it back in its stand you left the quill and with ease his hand once you were upright again moved to help its twin fold the letter which using the wax block from the open seal kit was marked from you by the simple press of the seal. Once pulled from the wax however he showed its path back to the box stating, “As your personal secretary for ease I shall keep your seal beside mine in case you might ever have need of it then it shall be found with ease.” You nodded and in the sink of your eyes to the pin on the neck of his robe you had been tapping he asked, “Is something troubling you?”

Promptly you shook your head and said, “That’s quite a, well I don’t know what to call that stone. The pale green one,” you said in a tap of his pin that had his grin ease out again.

“Green quartz, rather rare for this region. A gift from Celebrimbor upon my name day when he first awoke.”

You nodded and asked, “Have you ever seen an opal? Or a pearl? A good bit of my novels mention them, but I’ve never seen one in person.”

“How would you like a trip to our treasury? There we have a full array of gemstones for you to inspect.”

“Well, I can go there? Wouldn’t it be guarded?”

“There is no thievery here. Any gemstones within the treasury are itemized and up for request to any citizen who wishes use of them by inquiry to the Crown Treasurers. The gemstones from your effect on that Dragon however would be requested only to you should any dream to have use of your unique fortune.” You nodded and carefully he rose and helped you up to your feet to join him on the stroll to the distant Treasury in one of the lowest levels of the Palace. Past several respectfully nodding Elves who all once behind you smiled to one another at notice of the accessory in your hair that from a side view had their excited Prince hug Lord Glorfindel tightly to keep him from interfering on whatever activity the King was taking you on.

The shimmer was first what locked you in place and to the feel of fingertips that eased across your back from the torch and crystal lantern lit treasury that could make a dragon weep for joy your eyes flinched to Thranduil who simply gave you a kind grin after himself having come from meager roots to now being the Regal Charge of this vast hoard of all his peoples. “The glimmer free stones are kept closer to the doors, as they are used more commonly in pieces.” From section to section each divided nook of the hoard situated around the supporting pillars and archways gave off a different hue as they housed all of the stones of that kind within the area from which he brought a few choice pieces nearer for your inspection.

Though a section specifically for pearls was divided into the variations of styles and shades they were found in. “Wait,” you said in lifting a silver pearl, “This looks like the beads on my grey velvet dress.”

“It was adorned with silver pearls.”

“I wore pearls? I would have been more careful in it had I known.” You said eyeing the gem to the deepening of his sentimental grin in notice of the approach of Celebrimbor who had heard in the forges that you had come down here. His own grin spreading to curiosity for what reason could be behind the visit. “Don’t you have to kill the animals that make these?”

Thranduil shook his head in a hope to dispel the image surely that played in your head to how they might have been gathered. “No, not at all. Quite gently these can be removed from the clams that grow them. Even on occasion these misshapen ones can be found to be spat out by the younger ones. These come from Lothlorien and the Hobbits there are quite adept at farming these gems for our kin. Celebrimbor can attest to their care, can you not?”

His lifted gaze turned your head to the Lord who nodded his head to you and grinned wider than he thought possible to the sight of the hair ornament you were wearing. “Why yes, quite skilled and caring farmers Hobbits. Even though they have little use of Pearls beyond spoon displays or pen knives we craft here for them still the craft and care of their prized clams are passed from generation to generation.”

“That’s good, they live in a shell, doesn’t seem fair to split them open for what they can grow, or even to eat them. Even lobsters and crabs I could barely tolerate the sight of those fishermen returning with their wagons parading through town like heroes.”

Celebrimbor, “A sentiment shared by many Elves here in Middle Earth. Fish are a different story when caught on rod and reel or very mild nets in overpopulated seasons.” His eyes looked you over and he asked, “You have need of pearls, Your Highness?”

“I, um, sort of.” That had Thranduil’s brow twitch up a moment. “Yesterday on our ride Legolas shared that there’s a Necromancer in your old territory, and I’ve consulted one of my books and I think I might have just the trick to clear them and the spiders and such out.”

Thranduil, “Involving pearls?”

“Yes, I need a pearl in rouge, and a fire opal for the potion.”

Celebrimbor, “Is this a complicated potion?”

“It takes four days to brew, so, yes. Fairly complicated in a degree of time. Most prefer quick potions and effects but to my research those are almost always faulty and require a backup plan to the backup plan when they fail.”

Thranduil said, “Well, as long as you will face no harm we will continue the lesson on gemstones along the way once you have chosen your proper pearl.”

“Well the closer to a gourd shape the better. All my notes confirm gourd over lumps would be best.” You said in a lean forward to the red section of pearls that between shift of your fingers the divided crystal boxes eased closer to you and way for each shape variation until you found what must have been the oddest shaped one in the bunch by the duo’s reckoning. “This should give it a reasonable kick.”

Gestured along the tour continued until in a wide loop of the room to end at the opal section where you chose a half raw uncut fire opal that Thranduil nodded in approval of the choice. “Choose what you require. Might we aid in any other ingredients?”

In a glance up to Celebrimbor you asked, “Is there a metal with tree rings?”

“Yes,” he said in a turn to guide you to the other end of the treasury. There he led you into another hall on the way to another maze of metal hoards where he came to a stop in front of a stack of metal blocks, each with rings and wave patterns on each beside tiered trays of coins and unshaped clumps. “Damascus steel. Is this what you require?”

You nodded and said, “I think, one of these coins, not the bigger ones,” you muttered in a shift of your fingers in the toe top stance through the box of various sized coins until you found one that matched up with the size of the end of your thumb. “This one?”

Thranduil again nodded when your eyes met his, “Anything you require.”

You nodded and eyed the coin and Celebrimbor asked, “Does it require shaping?”

“Needs a hole,” his palm within an instant was offered and once the coin was settled there the both of you followed him into the forges. Just the noise alone would have been enough to make you flinch by the Smiths forging new swords and shields and yet after being tucked into Thranduil’s side the first slam of the heavy mallets and tools to shape the sweltering metal the new noises were tolerated.

To his usual forge the Master Smith moved and eased out of his outer robe to be in just his tunic that once the sleeves were rolled up tools were gathered and once the coin was clamped in place a super heated metal press that to his skill with the task melted right through it like butter. Up from the coin he asked, “Big enough?”

With a nod you flinched out a quick grin, “Yes, thank you.”

Thranduil, “Do you require aid the forming of this potion?”

“I have the rest of the ingredients, though I will have to start it tomorrow morning after breakfast. It will need some air, would it be okay if I use one of the empty wing walkways for it?”

“Yes, whatever you need. Is it harmful for others?” Celebrimbor asked.

“To touch, it just needs some ventilation or it can be overpowering.”

Pt 11

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

Ash - @devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00, @lilith15000

#Thranduil x OC #Tears #Touch Starved #Token #Personal Secretary #Gifts from Lord Girion #Trip to the Treasury #Celebrimbor #Glorfindel #Legolas #Prep for the Potion

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shitty-marvel-fan732 · 4 years

Text

Jealous of a Kitten

Author's Note:

Hey y'all! So I was b l o w n away by the response to my last Loki x Reader oneshot, so I thought I'd give writing for him another go! I've had this fic in my drafts since literally last year lmao. If you end up liking it, I'd love a like, reblog, or comment to let me know! And if anyone wants to request something for Loki or any other MCU characters, feel free to send me a message and let me know! As always big thanks to @twentytwohearts for their help reading and helping out with this fic!

Y/N POV:

“Good heavens mortal, haven’t you got anything else to occupy your time besides pestering me?” Loki grumbled affectionately from his place on the sofa. He was reclined comfortably on the couch, back pressed up to my front as he rested in between my bent legs. My hands were tangled within his inky black locks, fingers lazily scratching through his hair as I braided small sections. I grinned widely.

“Nope!” I replied cheekily, ensuring to overexaggeratedly pop the “p” at the end. “Cap gave me the rest of the day off from training, so you’re blessed with my presence all day, snowball."

The prince sighed melodramatically as he turned a page in the book currently resting on his lap.

“I wouldn’t exactly describe it as a blessing pet” he remarked dryly. His tone was nonchalant, but I could hear the small smile in his words despite his clear efforts to seem passive.

“Oh please, we both know you love when I ‘annoy’ you." I rolled my eyes with a giggle. Loki merely hummed in response as he continued to read whatever tome had caught his attention this afternoon. Deciding to mess with him a bit, I removed my hands from his now-wavy tresses.

“Or maybe not?” I pouted, feigning hurt and leaning my chest away from his body. He stilled slightly with his fingers paused mid page turn. His back tensed just a bit, and I could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he tried to decipher whether or not I was serious. Though he only panicked a moment or two, it was enough to make me silently delight in having seemingly tricked the god of mischief. He huffed childishly, his hand grabbing mine quickly and placing it back on his head.

My smile widened so far at his reaction I was almost fearful it may actually split my face in two. He didn't say anything, but was certain Loki could feel the satisfaction coming off of me in waves. Even though I'd known from the beginning, it was nice to be reminded just how content he was to be entangled with me for the moment. He could pretend all he wanted, but I knew something about the lanky god that most people didn't.

He was a huge cuddle-bug.

As stiff and regal as he presented himself most of the time, he never failed to make it known just how much he adored physical contact with me. I'd even go so far as to consider him touch-starved when we'd first met. I mean, it made sense. He was a prince and the only meaningful contact he'd probably experienced came from those that used to help him dress or bathe. The thought of him going for so long -- literally thousands of years -- without the affectionate touch of another living being made me genuinely teary. Once we'd established ourselves as a couple, he instantly became a constant presence at my side. It didn't matter the situation nor the company surrounding us, if he was in the same room as I was he would gravitate towards me. Whether it was a hand resting across the small of my back or fingers linked firmly through mine, he always found some way to initiate some kind of physical touch. I was more than thrilled at his open displays of affection -- even after months of time spent together I still felt the delicious ripples of electricity run through me each time his skin met mine.

Moments like today's were rare. Days when neither of us had any obligations or work to be done, when we could just spend time with one another. Sweet, domestic slices of life when we could just cuddle close to one another and pretend for a moment that all the struggles of the world were gone. I sighed softly as we lapsed back into comfortable silence, both of us content to simply be in one another's presence.

But, as always, no peaceful moments around here could last that long.

Peter came bursting through the door, looking even more flustered than usual. Which, for him, was saying something. He was wearing his suit sans the mask, carrying a giant throw blanket, with his brown curls mussed wildly and eyes desperately searching the room. He spotted Loki and I fairly quickly. A brief look of relief passed over the young boy's features as he rushed over to where we laid.

"Hey guys, uhm I could use some help," he blurted breathlessly once he reached the couch. I chuckled, amused by the poor flustered teen.

"You'll have to be more specific than that," Loki grumbled from his place between my legs. I didn't need to see his face to know exactly his expression. Clearly he was annoyed to have our peaceful moment interrupted, and I would bet money that he was scowling at Peter as a result. Frowning slightly, I pinched the back of his arm in reprimand.

"OUCH," he exclaimed dramatically. His arm darted out of my reach, the other hand coming out to rub the sore spot childishly. "What on Earth was that for?"

"Leave him alone snowball, he clearly needs something," I scolded lightly. He huffed once more, settling back into my legs and turning his attention back to his book and grumbling inaudibly. I rolled my eyes.

Peter's eyes went slightly wider as they darted between Loki and I. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the raven-haired Asgardian when he was actually behaving, and given Loki's current grumpy demeanor he seemed especially on-edge. I smiled brightly, hoping to ease his discomfort.

"What's up Peter?"

His eyes darted back to mine suddenly, relief overtaking his face at the save.

"So I was just out, ya know like patrolling, and I was helping this old Italian lady. She was carrying all this stuff right -- and I obviously figured I would try to help -- but she didn't speak English. She was like kinda mad at first and she hit me a couple times, cause I think she thought I was trying to rob her, but eventually we got everything sorted and got all her stuff back to her super old car and --" Peter rambled, words slurring together with that inhuman speed that only teenagers could seem to muster. My brows furrowed in confusion and I lifted my hands up like a criminal surrendering.

"Whoa WHOA Spiderling, take a breath man." I chuckled good-naturedly. The teen's face flushed slightly at my interruption.

"Sorry. Right. Sorry." he mumbled. "Anyways, so I finally get all her stuff in her car, and she just leaned into me and patted my head. I was gonna swing away, but she handed me this and drove away."

He gestured to the large blanket in his gloved hands. My brows furrowed.

"Okayyyyy," I drawled, still confused as to the issue. "And you're mad she gave you an afghan because…?"

His eyes sparked with realization, mouth forming an 'O'.

"Oh no, no that's not it. I mean that is pretty weird, like why would I need a blanket in the first place. Maybe she thought I looked cold or something, but --"

"Norns, child!" Loki interrupted. He shut his book with a snap, abruptly shifting positions on the couch so he was sitting upright. "Could you perhaps get to the point sometime this century?"

I slapped his arm disapprovingly -- he scowled at me, stubbornly scooting further from me in silent protest. I turned my attention back to Peter with a soft smile. I nodded at the red-faced teen, waving a hand in indication that he should continue.

"Right. Sorry Mr. Loki. Uhm, so anyways, she gave me this and I don't exactly know what to do with it," he finished. He opened the chunky-knit blanket to reveal the smallest, fuzziest kitten I'd ever seen. The kitten was tiny, no bigger than my fist, fur matted and full of tufts of orange and white hair. As soon as Peter opened the blanket the small kitten blinked it's tiny eyes against the harsh light. Adorable high pitched squeaks came from the teeny cat, who was clearly displeased with the sudden disturbance to it's sleep.

I gasped, my heart practically melting at the sight. I stood suddenly, hands reaching out unconsciously and making grabby motions towards the adorable creature. Peter readily complied, gently transferring the mewling baby over to my awaiting grasp. I cradled the little cat delicately, blanket and all, against my chest and cooed soft, unintelligible words of affection. My hands instantly found a spot behind the kitten's ears and began scratching lightly. The kitten responded positively, nuzzling into my touch readily and purring loudly at the attention. My heart felt like it was positively melting at the sights, sounds, and feel of the small animal in my arms.

"It's so cute," I gushed, though whether it was to myself or the guys I wasn't even sure. I finally managed to tear my gaze from the cat when I heard a quiet growl come from Loki's direction.

He was in his same spot on the couch, but I could instantly tell he was annoyed, even without the little grumble. His posture was rigid, hands sitting atop his legs balled into fists, and eyes suddenly dark with anger. Only moments before his face had seemed soft, the sharp planes and angles relaxed as we'd sat together. Now his expression was stony -- the stern mask of irritation he so often wore back with a vengeance. I was momentarily distracted from the small creature in my arms. Twinges of worry and the impulse to comfort him planted low in my belly ran through me at the sight.

"He is cute," Peter's voice interrupted, clearly oblivious to Loki's abrupt mood shift. "At least I think it's a he? Anyways I can't bring him home, May is allergic to cats and anyways I don't think they're allowed in my building. I was kind of hoping you could watch him for a while?"

"Absolutely n--"

"Of course!"

Loki's head snapped up towards mine as we spoke at the same time, his scowl deepening at my response. I furrowed my brows in confusion, slightly surprised at his aggressive reaction. Peter's eyes bounced from my face to Loki's -- the awkwardness radiating from him as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Can you not just take it to a shelter or something of that nature?" Loki seethed, glaring at the poor teen. Peter was clearly flustered by the question -- red creeped up his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort.

"Well, see, I tried that! I did, but they told me he's too young for them to take -- cause he's just a baby -- and they can't take him," he stuttered. "Plus, they said they've got too many animals right now, and if he doesn't get adopted soon then they might have to...you know…"

I gasped, instinctively tugging the now-sleeping kitten closer to my chest. Loki shrugged, nonplussed.

"So?" he questioned. "That is what happens to unneeded animals on this realm, yes?"

My jaw dropped and I frowned disapprovingly at Loki. I knew he could still be, shall we say, difficult at times; though he was definitely on his way to being 'rehabilitated', old habits die hard and he often still struggled with concepts like compassion and kindness. Particularly when it came to anyone or anything that wasn't, well, me. Even still, how someone could look at the tiny creature in my arms without feeling the warm, protective emotions that I did baffled me.

"We are NOT sending this poor baby to be killed!" I stage whispered the last part, glaring at Loki and cradling the kitten protectively against my chest. "Good lord Loki, just look at him!"

I held the small orange cat down slightly, revealing it's angelic sleeping face to the scowling god. He glanced at the kitten briefly before turning his attention back to me and quirking a brow.

"I have." he stated plainly, voice laced with poorly concealed contempt. I scowled at him and stuck my tongue out childishly before turning back to Peter.

"Ignore him Pete, of course we'll take care of him." I reassured the flustered teen. Peter's young face instantly flooded with relief and he mumbled a muffled 'thanks!' as he rushed back out of the room.

Smiling and chuckling, I turned back towards the couch where Loki still sat. His facial expression remained annoyed and he'd crossed his arms tensely against his chest. I couldn't help but giggle outwardly at his pout; he looked like a child who's toy had been taken away. Though I found his pouty face adorable, I still found it slightly infuriating that it was over the innocent little bundle in my arms. My obvious amusement only caused his scowl to deepen and he scooched over further from me as I sat in my previous spot on the plush couch.

"Somebody's a bit crabby," I stage whispered to the still sleeping kitten. Loki scoffed.

"I am not 'crabby' pet," he grumbled. "I simply don't understand your fascination with this little creature.”

I chuckled, the noise hollow and closer to a scoff than anything. I rolled my eyes before turning my attention back to the small kitten in my arms. He began to stir lightly, stretching out his tiny limbs and squeaking out the most adorable yawn before turning his attention to Loki and I. His small eyes appraised the two of us with a kind of innocent curiosity. Eventually he deemed us safe enough, and he began to slowly venture out from the confines of his blanket. As he tentatively explored my lap and the small section of couch that separated Loki and I, I felt my face split into a wide smile. Warm, happy feelings blossomed in my chest at the sight of the curious creature.

"What's your name gonna be, huh?" I cooed to the small, exploring cat. "Are you a Tom or more of a Finn hmmm?"

Loki rolled his eyes, face never leaving his book.

"How about blot?" he suggested plainly. His tone was even, controlled, and even though his lips didn't quirk up even the slightest bit at his suggestion I was wholly suspicious instantly. Sending a frown his way, I replied quickly.

"Dare I even ask what that means?" I quipped warily. His eyes flashed momentarily to my face as he shrugged. Even with the briefest glance I could see the tell-tale spark of mischief in his eyes. Rolling my own eyes in exasperation, I turned my attention back towards the small tabby and ran my fingers across his back.

"Hmm, what else?" I pondered out loud. "How about Tigger? You look a lot like Tigger."

The tiny cat purred louder at my words, curling around my hand as I spoke. Encouraged, I scratched his fur a little harder.

"You like that huh? Alright, Tigger it is!"

A quiet scoff came from the other end of the couch. To my utter confusion, Loki was still radiating complete and total annoyance from his place across from me. He sat tensely in the opposite corner of the couch with his boots tucked petulantly beneath him and his body angled as far from mine as gravity would allow. His head was bowed down slightly, his attention seemingly directed back to his book. Despite his best efforts, I could tell that he was only idly paying any attention to the words on the page. Gone was the smooth look of contentment that had graced his beautiful features mere minutes before; his face was once more a cold veil of poorly concealed contempt as he feigned reading. The look, though common to the rest of the world, was troubling to me. It’d taken months, but I thought I’d broken through the raven-haired god’s stony exterior. The sudden return of the stern facial expression caused pangs of concern and sympathy to prod at me from within. I reached a hand out instinctively to grasp his hand in mine, determined to display my silent support.

Despite his ‘silvertongue’ reputation, Loki often struggled to verbalize feelings of anything other than contempt, rage, or disgust. I’d learned quickly that often he didn’t need me to attempt to discuss anything he wasn’t ready for -- rather it seemed the best way to comfort him in these times was a physical show of my presence and affection.

This time was no different, and though his head barely moved an inch I could instantly feel the way he calmed under my touch. The muscles in his hand immediately relaxed as he moved to twine his long fingers between mine. His tense expression softened, although only fractionally as he grasped my hand. He turned his attention from his book slowly, deep blue eyes turning to meet my worried gaze.

"Hey, talk to me snowflake," I demanded softly. "What's going on?"

Loki opened his mouth to reply, but a small mewl cut him off before he could speak. I glanced down and giggled lightly at the sight of the small orange tabby beneath us. The tiny kitten had wandered down the couch and was currently sitting mere inches away from our intertwined hands with a curious look overtaking his small face. Evidently he wasn't quite pleased to have the attention taken from him so quickly, and he reached a paw out tentatively to hover above our hands. Eventually deciding it was safe, the small cat placed a paw over the tops of our hands, eyes darting between Loki and I with a kind of content curiosity that made my heart practically melt.

Loki, quite obviously did not share these feelings, and withdrew his hand instantly. His face was once more overtaken by a deep scowl as he snapped his book shut and swiftly stood. He turned curtly and exited the room without another word. My eyes followed him as he left, brows furrowed with concern and confusion. Tigger, meanwhile, was clinging to my chest by his tiny claws, his heart beating with an insane speed. He was clearly scared by Loki's sudden moves and general demeanor, and I cooed soft words of comfort to the small creature. My eyes never left the door though, thoughts of interest and concern overtaking my mind as I wondered what exactly had gotten into my raven-haired companion today.

A few days later

Loki's POV

Sweet giggles filled the halls of the tower as I walked towards Y/N's room. A small smile overtook my features as the sound filtered through my ears. Typically I found midgardians irritating and their laughter grating, but as was almost always the case, Y/N was an exception. Y/N simply radiated happiness at every turn, and over the past weeks the sound of her infectious laugh had become one of my favorite sounds. Her mere presence had the uncanny ability to both calm and excite me at once, and I'd grown progressively more fond of my time spent with her in a way that baffled me and those around us.

In fact, the past few days had proven increasingly difficult for just that reason. Y/N and I had spent less time together as of late -- a fact that saddened and irritated me in near equal parts. For the past few days I’d found myself yearning for more time with my dear mortal, having been separated by the rather irritating presence of a certain small animal. Ever since the young Spiderchild had thrust a stray cat into Y/N's care she had been wholly and utterly enamored with the useless pet. She doted on the feline, which she'd dubbed 'Tigger', and spent nearly all of her time either caring for, amusing, or simply fawning over it.

It was becoming rather taxing.

At first, once I had begrudgingly accepted that the cat wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, I'd attempted to simply ignore it and go about our time as usual. It was only a day or two before that notion was entirely dismissed. Each time I made such an attempt Tigger had made his presence unmistakably clear. The loathsome, needy thing seemed to share my desire to be near Y/N, and was constantly sitting on or pawing at her. And even the precious few moments in which it wasn't physically touching Y/N it took to mewling and crying until she gave in and picked it up. I hadn’t had a single moment with Y/N in which we were truly alone for days, and I was reaching my breaking point.

As I finally reached Y/N’s room and entered, the smile that the sound of her laughter had put on my face immediately turned to a scowl. Inside the room was Y/N, beautiful as ever, sitting casually on her bed. The sight, which normally would have filled my stomach with a tiny stir of happiness, was marred with the unwelcomed addition of a certain small kitten. The wretched thing was sitting in between her legs, happily jumping and pawing at the toy she waved above him. She was looking over the stupid pet with such fondness in her eyes -- a look which I'd once thought was reserved only for me. Irritation overtook my senses at the sight, and I couldn’t help the scoff of annoyance that came from me.

Y/N looked up at the sound, initial confusion turning to excitement as she realized my presence. My own feelings of resentment faded marginally at the sight of her beautiful features lighting up with a smile of genuine happiness at the sight of me.

"Hiya Snowball!" she greeted me excitedly, rushing up from her place on her bed and striding up to where I stood. She tucked herself into the fold of my arms easily, her head resting comfortably against my chest and her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I sighed lightly, my own arms winding around her relatively smaller frame and my face coming to rest against the top of her head.

"Hello my love," I murmured lightly into the crown of her head, placing a sweet kiss in my wake before burying my nose in the soft hairs there. She hummed softly in contentment, and we stayed in this position for some time. It could've been moments, minutes, hours -- I was never quite aware of the passing of time when I was with Y/N like this. I was wholly encased in the safe little bubble that only her presence seemed to create. I was surrounded by her: the unique scent wafting from her hair, the feel of her body melding against mine, and the soft thumping of her heart against my chest that provided the ideal background music for our calm moment together. I was completely entranced by our embrace, all feelings of irritation gone for the moment.

But only for the moment.

The sound of tiny cries and the feeling of a small body thumping and winding its way across our ankles broke through the peace we'd established like a freight engine. Y/N's chuckle vibrated low against my chest before she pulled herself out of my arms to peer down at the kitten. Annoyance seared through my body as she detangled herself from me and squatted down to scoop the needy thing into her arms. She stood up once more, cradling the spoiled little creature in her arms and scratching its face with her long slender fingers.

"Someone wants a hug too, huh?" she cooed playfully to the cat. My frown deepened at her soft tone, the same tone she often spoke to me with -- the small, loving voice that had crooned to me during late nights or early morning moments spent wrapped in one another's embrace. The same tone that never ceased to comfort me or make me feel as if she was possibly the only person to truly love me. The sound that I treasured so dearly was now being directed to a lowly, disgusting animal. It sent a wave of rage through my entire being like a white hot flame.

"Norns Y/N!" I snapped. "Can we not have a single moment without the presence of this...this animal?"

Her eyes widened as she took in my words, brows practically flying upwards in surprise and hands stilling against Tigger's face. Her wide eyes blinked a few times in complete shock as she surveyed my face carefully.

"I'm sorry?" she questioned confusedly. I exhaled loudly in irritation, arms coming to rest across my chest in a display of my annoyance.

"Does it not bother you that we've not spent a moment together, alone, since the creature was forced upon you?" I questioned, tone acidic and face a stone mask of anger. Her brow furrowed deeper in confusion briefly before a wave of understanding flooded her eyes. Expression softening, she set the kitten down lightly onto the floor before crossing the few steps required to reach me once more. Though her eyes held nothing but concern and understanding within the deep Y/E/C irises, her face had the tiniest hint of a smirk.

"Well I'd ask if it bothered you snowflake, but it seems that may be redundant at this point," she replied to my earlier question with ease. Her soft hands reached up towards me and wrapped easily around the back of my neck. Almost of their own accord, my own hands found the curve of her waist and held her firmly. In lieu of a response I simply scowled in her direction. She chuckled lightly, and propped herself up on her toes briefly to place a gentle kiss on my cheek before she led me over to her bed and motioned for me to sit. I complied, albeit somewhat begrudgingly, and she ensured we were settled against the head of the mattress before she spoke again.

"Loki, are you...jealous of Tigger?" she questioned. Her tone was very matter-of-fact, but the ghost of a smirk still lingered on her face. I felt my face flood with heat, and though I'd like to blame the color on anger I was certain she could tell that I was embarrassed. Though she was largely correct, I was struck with the ridiculousness of the statement as I heard it tumble from her lips. Glancing away from her expectant gaze I mumbled out a response, though I wasn't entirely sure what it was.

Her gentle fingers moved slightly around my head, delicately stroking the skin of my neck and face until her soft palms rested against the sides of my face. She applied the gentlest pressure to my cheek, forcing me to look her in the eyes once more. I reluctantly complied.

"Because if you are," she continued. "I'm sure I'd have to tell you just how insane that is. Outside of the fact that Tigger is a cat and you are my not-so-human boyfriend, the idea that there's anyone or anything I'd want to spend time with more than you is just completely inaccurate. He's a baby, and he needs a lot of my attention that's all. Since you haven't been coming around much I just assumed you were busy with other things lately -- never once did it cross my mind that I was the reason I hadn't seen you much."

I felt my furrowed brows relax slightly. Stupid and petty as my feelings may be, I couldn't deny that hearing such reassurances straight from the one person I truly cared for had taken away a considerable amount of unease from my mind. I exhaled a long breath and shifted unconsciously deeper into Y/N's hold.

"Regardless I'm truly, very sorry that I made you think I was choosing something else over you. I would never want to hurt you like that, or make you feel like you aren't the most important person in my life."

Her worried gaze was still locked firmly on my face as she spoke. Though the majority of my chest was filled with a feeling of relief from her admission, there was a twinge of guilt lurking deep within my stomach. I often forgot just how caring and gentle Y/N could be and this may have been one such occasion. Of course she latched onto the feeble creature -- was that not what she did with me as well? It was simply a part of her nature to care for the weak or disadvantaged.

I frowned once more as my mind reeled with the realization of my own selfishness. Y/N clearly mistook my expression however, and I could see the guilt in her eyes as she spoke up once more.

"I can ask Peter if there anyway he can watch him for a bit, maybe just give us some time alone. Or maybe --"

"No." I cut her off abruptly once again. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and she opened her mouth to reply. My own finger came up to her face fast as lightning to silence what would undoubtedly be more apologies.

"Dearest, clearly the fault is not on your end in this case," I started, hoping to ease her mind. "We both know I often, shall we say, struggle with expressing my thoughts at times. Of course you wish to care for the kitten, just as you care for everything in your life. I was wrong to assume your affections were completely diverted and for not mentioning my feelings sooner. For both, I am truly sorry."

Her expression softened at my apologies, face relaxing under my hand as I spoke. She smiled a small grin of appreciation before thrusting herself forward and deeper into my arms. I let out a small 'oomf' at the force of her body attaching to mine, but regardless my arms wound their way around her frame and I cradled her to my chest. She sighed in contentment, and we stayed in this position for a few moments before I felt her chuckle against my body. I pulled my head back just enough to give her a questioning look.

"I'm sorry," she giggled, face alight with mischief and glee. "Did the big, fearsome Loki just say he was sorry?"

However unintentionally I felt my face heat up once more, although this time it wasn't from anger. I rolled my eyes lightly before smirking down at Y/N's smiling face.

"If I were you, I'd mark this day down in your memory, as it isn't likely to be said again anytime soon," came my dry response.

I heard Y/N's melodious giggle from where her face was pressed against my body, sending delicious sparks of happiness across my frame. Outside of that, her only response to my statement was nuzzling deeper into my body -- a welcome action that I easily reciprocated. My eyelids closed as we settled ourselves into a comfortable silence, content to simply be in one another's presence. I hummed, utterly at peace with my current position, when I heard a tiny mewl from nearby.

Opening just one eye, I saw a curious little face near mine. Tigger had evidently decided it was now safe enough to venture close to where Y/N and I laid. He was pawing hesitantly back and forth across my lap, eyes assessing me with tentative curiosity as he made tiny circles around my stomach. I chuckled at the feeling of his impossibly tiny paws kneading my lower belly as he settled into a lying position. Y/N opened her eyes at my amused chuckle and shot me a sheepish grin.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I can take him somewhere else. I think Peter's around, he'd probably watch him for a bit."

I shook my head, placing a small kiss to her forehead and placing a hand on Tigger's ears.

"It's alright love. I meant what I said when I was sorry -- he didn't do anything wrong, he simply wishes to be around you as much as possible. Obviously, that is a trait we both share, and I think I could expend a bit more energy in attempting to bond with Tigger." I answered genuinely. The kitten purred loudly in response, inching his body further up my chest until he was resting just beside Y/N's face. He closed his eyes sleepily, and curled into my body constantly as he slept.

Y/N grinned widely, her lovely face alight with such genuine love and glee that I was taken aback at her beauty. She placed a sweet kiss to my lips in thanks before returning to her place on my chest. I closed my eyes once more, smile firmly in place as I lied quietly and revelled in the peaceful moment.

Taglist: @grahoundart

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rhysreece · 3 years

Text

Five in a bed and the Sixth one said.

6/7

The room is dark when Janus opens his eyes. When it doesn't get brighter, he realises he's blind. Shit. That is not supposed to happen. Last he remembers, Patton poisoned his tea, the conniving rat. But hey, he survived. Knowing Virgil, the others know he's alive too. So he waits.

He feeds the giant boas in their herpatorium, his own invention. An entire room heated to the right temperature, with everything a snake could ever want. On the lonelier nights, he sleeps with them, their twin bodies curled around him like the arm of a prince- or anyone. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

He listens the news, regrets it, and throws his phone, feeling it remateralise next to him, unscathed. Infuriating device. Wars and violence and chaos isn't what he needs right now. What he needs is the pair of footsteps approaching his door. Janus' heart flutters a little as his stormcloud knocks on the door. The brief wave of nostalgia nearly floors him, but he recovers and opens the door, confused as to their horrified response.

"Jan- Oh my god Janus sit down. You look awful."

"Why thank you, I try my best.

"Seriously, you're sheet white, what the hell."

"I wouldn't know. I'm blind."

"You're what. Blind?! That's the absolute last thing we need!"

Logan has to interject before Virgil throws something in a fight or flight reflex.

"If I may, Janus?"

"Why of course, Logan. Why are you grabbing my face-"

He starts examining Janus' eyes, and then his mouth. He winces at the residual swelling, and gags at the rotten flesh that was his tonsils. Staying clear of his fangs, fully extended as an impulse reaction, he probes around a bit more, then nods.

"The blindness is a side effect of dying by poison, and will fade. We will however need a surgery once this is over to deal with the remains of your tonsils. In the meantime, we need to go save the twins."

With no one okay with what just came out of Logan's mouth, the three make their way all over the mindscape, turning in every direction, trying to find the twins, before Janus stops, functionless eyes wide.

"I have absolutely no idea where they could be, and I'm going this way for no discernible reason and you shouldn't follow me under any circumstances."

And he's off, aided by his staff, hobbling at a fairly quick pace, only walking into a tree twice. (No one laughed, it wasn't funny.) They eventually arrive at a large, futuristic building buried in deep, tall trees.

"I think we're here. Boys, help me inside."

"Jan what is this place? It's so… Creepy."

"Well, my hoodied, hackles-raised friend, this is a cottage, and not a laboratory used to restrain sides when they get too Patton."

"Oh great. Who's in here?"

"Last I checked, everybody, but Patton has been here."

"I can't tell if that last one was a lie or not" Virgil has to stand on his tiptoes to whisper to Logan, looking far too skeptical to actually go in. The overly white box gives him so many bad vibes, but Janus is already hobbling forward, scanning himself in, so the others follow.

The inside of the lab isn't much better. Bleach white halls with stainless steel equipment, and suffocating smell of bleach and ethanol. His trainers stick out like sore thumbs against the smooth, endless white tiles, and the phantoms, yellow smoke forming ghostly figures, move in their small animations, manning reception desks, shops, and waiting areas.

Logan is doing very well to disguise his bone chilling terror of this accursed place. The faceless nurses, the endless corridors, it's given him a fair share of nightmares, and a hatred of reflective surfaces that plagues him to this day.

He follows as Janus leads them through the labyrinth, eventually ending up at a ward labelled 'Isolation Station' in colourful crayon. Three guesses as to who wrote that. He isn't sure if Virgil could tell how tightly his fists are clenched as they enter a room, with rows of square rooms, with a fake wall, one way, so the people inside could be observed without noticing. Logan has to bite back tears, and fights very hard against the urge to run. For Remus.

There, next to each other, are the twins. Remus is muttering to himself, clearly fighting against a concussion. Roman is tearing at his own skin, blood staining the white floor red with a mix of blood and tears. With a slam, Janus unlocks the stations, and feels his way to Roman's sobs, Virgil next to him, trying to calm down a violent Roman. Logan practically runs to Remus, dropping any pretenses and throwing himself into his arms, clutching him so tight it hurt them both.

"Oh my Morningstar I've missed you so much. Oh god your head. Here, lie down."

"Starlight…? I held on, like you'd tell me to. Did- Did I do okay?"

Logan practically sobs through his grin, kissing Ree's forehead gently. God he loved this man.

"Yes, dear, you did so wonderful. Rest now, I'll wake you up in a bit, and we'll deal with this concussion. I'll look after you, my sweet."

His eyes are shut before the sentence ends. Logan looks over at the others, cradling a broken Roman in their arms, and carries Remus over to join them.

"Roman. I'm glad you're okay-" "Remus!"

Roman lunges for Remus, holding him close and crying again, mumbling incoherently.

"Ro, buddy, it's okay. We're here. We're real. We love you."

"Virgil is right, Roman. The side effects of the hallucinogens will wear off soon, I can see the residue on the floor. Remus has a nasty concussion that I need to treat, and we're all hurt. Can you help us get him somewhere else?"

Roman just nods numbly, not letting go of his brother the entire time. A few hours of medical attention later, they're all properly sewed back together, and napping on two mattresses pushed together on the floor. Remus and Roman are tangled together, Logan is slumped with his head on Remus' stomach and his legs serving as pillow for Virgil, whose feet are resting next to Janus, who is cuddled up to Roman's back. Logan is the only one awake, and the feeling is overwhelming.

After months of preparing for Patton, and not touching anyone, every ghost of a breath on his palm consumes him with a burning, frantic need for more, drawing, for the first time in a very long time, tears of happiness at this brief respite, this moment to breathe and focus in the quiet. The contact is the only thing grounding him in this nightmare hospital, but for now, the imminent threat, looming and foreboding, simply doesn't exist.

As he starts to drift off, he looks over the six of them, cuddled together in this frantic, desperate drive for physical contact, and smiles, finally at peace for a brief moment.

Hold on.

Six?

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stormcrawler75 · 4 years

Text

Wooing a Light Side Part 1

Summary: Virgil gets captured by Pride, the fearsome Dragon Witch of the Mindscape. Only he may not be as fearsome as everyone thinks.

Notes: Okay, so, this was created before Remus was revealed and I used Pride. This was also created before Virgil was officially revealed as a Dark Side so I have him as a Light Side here. I still wanted to post this though and I really hope that you all like it.

Warnings: Pre-AA, mentions of Deceit.

Wordcount: 10,221

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Virgil sighed and curled tightly in on himself, looking around the room he had been locked in. The room was dark but cozy, with a large bed pressed up against the wall and a fireplace roaring across from it. There was a plushy loveseat by the fireplace and a chessboard in front of it. In any other circumstance, Virgil would be glad to be in a place like this! It was just so beautiful!

But, Virgil wasn’t here by choice. He was a prisoner in Pride, otherwise known as the Dragon Witch’s castle.

It had been a total accident that he was here in the first place. The others had ventured into Roman’s realm for a nice picnic with, as Roman had spat, “no Anxiety around to ruin everything.”

Virgil had decided to roam through the Subconscious checking for any signs of Dark Sides sneaking around the Light Side. It was his job and Virgil took it very seriously. He had meant to go straight back to his room afterward to avoid meeting the others on their way back and having to see their bright smiles and the grass stains on their clothes from running around and having so much fun with each other as a family that Virgil wasn’t a part of.

But, he had forgotten one thing. The Subconscious was connected to the Imagination. Roman’s realm. One wrong step sent you right into the Imagination if you weren’t careful and Virgil had been so focused on checking for threats that he hadn’t noticed something was different until he realized that there were stone walls around him now instead of the grey wall of mist of the Subconscious.

It had taken only a few seconds of him stretching out his senses to realize that he was in the Imagination now. Now, that normally wouldn’t be so bad. Virgil had accidentally gone into all of the other’s realms before. Hell, he knew the Imagination so well that he could have sneaked out faster than Princey could recite one of those poems he liked so much. He might not have been able to sink out directly to his room since it was Roman’s realm but that never stopped him before. He knew other ways.

But he hadn’t factored in one thing. The thought that had sent him straight into the subconscious, was one about the Dragon Witch. A name that Roman had come out with for the Side that also had power over the Imagination, though not as much as the Creative side.

Virgil had not taken the discovery well. He had taken being captured by small dragons that came up to his knees and knowing that no one would come for him even worse.

The Dragons had brought him to the cushy room and had locked him in. Virgil had begged them to let him go but all they said, in a low and raspy voice, that the King had ordered for him to be kept in comfort until he himself could speak to Virgil.

Virgil sniffed and hugged one of the pillows to his chest. His hoodie was wet from the fog of the Subconscious and it had been sticking to his skin so he had taken it off and laid it out to dry in front of the fireplace, leaving him in his jeans, that had dried quickly, and a black long-sleeved shirt.

He flopped down on his side with his back to the door and buried his head in his pillow. Tears started to flood his eyes and Virgil bit his lip to stop them from flooding. He really wanted to believe that the other Light Sides would come to save him. That Roman would burst in on a white horse with his sword out to slay the Dragon Witch. That Logan would come to use his smarts to navigate the castle in their escape. That Patton would pull him into a tight hug and assure him that everything was going to be okay.

But Virgil wasn’t a part of their family. Virgil was Anxiety and how many times had they wished that he would disappear? As far as they were probably concerned, Virgil was right where he should be.

Virgil had been so many lost in thought that he didn’t notice the creaking of the door to his room cell or notice the eyes watching him. His eyes had actually just started to close when the sound of a hand closing the door startled him. He yelped and jerked up. Virgil whirled around to see him, Pride. The Dragon Witch.

Pride was looking at him with intrigued blood-red eyes. Like all of the Sides, he resembled Thomas but with differences. Pride’s eyes were red with brown hair hanging in front of them. He was dressed in black robes with red accents and was about 6 foot, a whole foot taller than Virgil. But, the things that drew Virgil’s gaze was the dull blue horns on his head and the same coloured tail that was peeking out of his robes.

Virgil’s breath hitched and he tangled his hands in the sheets of the bed. He slouched and ducked his head, not wanting to meet Pride’s eyes. He flinched when footsteps started to echo closer to him and his hands started to shake a little. Pride stopped right at the edge of his bed and studied Virgil intently. Virgil’s eyes flicked up and then it was like he couldn’t look away.

“So,” Pride said, “you are Anxiety.” His voice was smooth and curious and it only served to make Virgil’s nerves spike.

Virgil swallowed and nodded, frozen with fear. It didn’t escape his notice though that Pride didn’t ask for his name or offer his own.

Pride hummed and his tail flicked back and forth. “I see. And, what is a Light Side doing in my castle?” His voice got a little more dangerous. “Did Creativity send you, little lamb? Did he send you to cause trouble in my castle?”

“No,” Virgil whispered, unable to speak any louder. “N-no. He doesn’t know I’m h-here. Roman doesn’t let me in the Imagination. It was an, an accident.”

Pride’s eyebrows shot up. “An accident? Is that what happened, little one?” He raised a hand to his chin and Virgil got a good look at the sharp red nails that looked a little like talons. “I fail to see how this is an accident. Explain it to me.”

Virgil sat up straighter, pulling his knees up to his chest in an attempt to comfort himself. He was not in a position to not answer a simple question just because he was terrified scared. “I was checking out the boundaries of the Light Side,” he muttered, “to make sure that Deceit wasn’t sneaking around again.”

Virgil had expected a lot of things. He had expected more questions or maybe even torture for getting in the way of a Dark Side. What he didn’t expect was a grin to stretch across Pride’s face.

“You’re the little Side whose been giving Deceit so much trouble? Shooing him away from the boundaries?” Pride asked. He smiled wider when Virgil nodded shyly and Pride plopped down on the bed, keeping plenty of space between the two of them. “With the way Deceit’s been grumbling, I would’ve thought you would a lot taller. More muscle too. Maybe with a big sword like the one Prince Pompous has.”

The nickname for Roman made a startled snort burst out of Virgil and he quickly held a hand up to hide his smile. For a brief moment, he had forgotten that he was Pride’s prisoner.

Pride huffed out a little laugh and he shook his head. “I simply can’t believe that a little Side like you have been defending the Light Side so well.” Pride quickly held up his hands in defence. “Not that I would ever attack the Light Side. The only one who ever does that is Deceit and even he has no plans to truly attack it. He just likes to cause some mischief.”

“Yeah, well,” Virgil shrugged and glanced away, “I’m quick. Quicker than that snake.”

That answer sent Pride into a laughing fit, absolutely startling Virgil out of his skin. Pride threw his head back and clapped his hands on his knees and howled with laughter. Virgil stared at Pride in shock. Pride’s horns were practically quivering with the amount of laughing Pride was doing.

It took about a minute but Pride finally stopped laughing and looked directly at Virgil. Virgil’s breath caught. Before he had only been only to catch a glimpse of the other Side’s face but now he could make out every single detail, including the dark red lipstick that Pride had used on himself.

Pride must’ve noticed his, rather obvious, staring because he leaned a little closer. “So, Why weren’t you with the other Light Sides on their little bonding day?” He asked with a little smirk. “Why would they allow someone as precious as you out of their sight for even a moment?”

Pride’s words might’ve been meant as light and teasing, but all it did was remind Virgil just exactly how much the other Light Sides actually liked him and he looked away, biting his lip. Pride frowned and moved to try and catch Virgil’s eyes. “Little lamb?”

Virgil shook his head once and his hands curled into fists. He kept his gaze down on the bedspread and didn’t speak.

Pride waited for an answer and sighed dramatically when he didn’t get one. “Very well, little Anxiety. You may stay here for tonight and then you can be on your way tomorrow.” Virgil finally looked up at him.

“But,” Virgil protested, “what if Roman finds out I’m here? I’m not allowed in the Imagination!”

But, his protests were waved away by well-manicured hands. “Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Pride said with a smirk. “Creativity may have more power over the Imagination but the Imagination is big and he stretches his power far. I prefer to keep my powers in my land. He won’t know a thing, I promise you.”

Those last words about no one knowing he was here sent Virgil’s heart pumping a little but he managed to take a deep breath. ‘Pride said I can leave tomorrow,’ he reminded himself. ‘Wait until then before you start panicking.’ It didn’t help his peace of mind much but it did help him from panicking too much.

Pride stood up and smoothed down his robes. “Please feel free to explore my castle, though I’d suggest getting some sleep. You look positively exhausted, little lamb.”

Virgil looked over to the door suspiciously. He didn’t know how he thought about the door being open for anyone to be able to just walk on in when he was sleeping. The thought made his insides squirm.

Pride followed his gaze and he nodded. “There are guards from my own Kingsguard at your door. They will not enter your room unless they suspect you’re in danger. You are my guest here tonight.”

“How different is that from being a prisoner?” Virgil asked with a little edge in his voice.

The edge seemed to surprise Pride but also amuse him. He laughed and started making his way out of Virgil’s room “Ohhh, the little kitten has some claws. Don’t you worry. Being a guest in my castle is very different from being a prisoner. For one,” he looked back at Virgil, pausing at the door, “they’re not allowed to keep their comfort items.”

Virgil scrunched up his face. “Comfort items? What the heck are you talking about?”

Pride chuckled and pointed one of his fingers over at the hoodie drying out by the dryer. “I was told that you were clutching at your hoodie when you were brought here and hissed at one of my guards when they attempted to take it from you to dry it properly.” He left before Virgil could say anything back.

Virgil stared at the door for a few minutes and then slowly laid back down on the bed. He was sleeping here for the night, there was no way around that. Virgil would just have to be vigilant for now. No matter what Pride said, and Virgil did think that he was telling the truth, that didn’t mean that his guards wouldn’t listen to him and not come into Virgil’s room to hurt him in the middle of the night.

Virgil pulled his pillow to his chest and took a deep breath. This was going to be a long night.

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“Ser Anxiety!”

Virgil’s eyes snapped open and he looked over to the door where someone was knocking. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the pleasure of not remembering what happened the day before. Virgil remembered each second of what happened and it only helped him a little from freaking out about being in a strange room. As it was, Virgil could feel himself tensing up.

“Ser Anxiety!” The knocking came again and Virgil shied back into his bed. “I was told to wake you, Ser Anxiety! King Pride wishes to have a meal with you before you take your leave!”

Virgil swallowed and slipped out of bed. “Coming,” he called. Virgil winced when his voice cracked. Virgil’s hands were shaking a little so it took a few seconds for him to open up the door when he reached it.

On the other side was one of the Dragons from last night. They came up to Virgil’s knees but Virgil had no doubt that this tiny, baby blue Dragon could absolutely destroy him if he wanted.

The Dragon bowed. “Ser Anxiety, good morning. I use the pronouns he/him, sir.” He nudged the pile of clothes that had been laid between the two of them. “King Pride had clothes made for you to wear for your journey. He’s asked for you to wear them to breakfast.”

Virgil’s stomach twisted and he glanced over to his now dried hoodie. The Dragon caught what he was looking at and he nudged the clothes again. “Lord Pride said that he would not be offended if you tied your hoodie around your waist or shoulders.”

Virgil let out a relieved breath and crouched down, scooping the pile of clothes in his arms. “Okay. Uh, thanks. I’ll be right out.”

The Dragon nodded and backed up. He turned his back to Virgil and sat down, seemingly prepared to wait for him. Virgil closed the doors and sighed. Okay, this was almost over. Just one breakfast with a Dark Side and it’d be done.

He changed into his new clothes quickly and awkwardly left his jeans and T-Shirt folded on his bed. He glanced down at his new clothes and sighed in relief. It was not as flashy as Pride’s own outfit, thank God for that. He was wearing a pair of dark black pants and a royal purple, button up shirt with black buttons. Pride had gifted him with a pair of comfortable black boots that somehow fit Virgil’s style perfectly.

Virgil picked up his black hoodie and tried it around his waist. He really wished that he had finished his new black and purple hoodie but it was still hanging half-finished in the closet in his room. So he had to deal with old reliable.

The Dragon was in the same spot Virgil had left him and glanced up when the door opened. “Follow me, please.”

Virgil followed the Dragon through the halls and tried his best to keep mental notes on which way they kept turning. But, the castle was so big that Virgil really didn’t think it made a difference. So he kept following his Dragon guard until he stopped outside large, ornate doors and bowed to Virgil again.

“Ser Anxiety,” he said, “King Pride is waiting inside for you. He is looking forward to dining with you.”

Virgil took a deep breath and curled his fingers in his hoodie, grounding himself. “Yeah, alright. Uh, thank you for bringing me here.” He nodded awkwardly to the Dragon and then pushed the doors open, stepping inside.

Pride was seated at the head of a long table that was probably meant more for feasts than a for a breakfast for two. There was only one other chair and it was the one closest to Pride. Virgil stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say, but then Pride caught notice of him and stood up beaming. Pride’s blue tail was swishing behind him happily.

“Ah, Anxiety!” He smiled at the Anxious Side and beckoned him closer. “Please join me for some food, my little lamb.”

Virgil walked up to him, digging his nails into his palms nervously. Pride watched him approach and frowned when he saw how stiffly Virgil was walking. “Is everything alright, little one?”

"Yeah,” Virgil mumbled. “I’m good.”

Pride’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. “Do I make you nervous, little kitten?”

The cutesy nickname made Virgil scowl and he glared at Pride. “Don’t call me that,” he snapped, seconds before thinking that snapping at the Side whose castle he was in with hundreds of Dragon guards was probably a bad idea.

Luckily, Pride just seemed amused by Virgil’s insolence and laughed. “Of course, little one. Sit down and join me for a meal. I had my servants make some breakfast for you before you head on your way.”

Virgil gulped and nodded. Pride drew out his chair from him and pushed it in when Virgil sat down. Virgil watched Pride sit down and his tail sliding through a little hole in the back.

Pride snapped his fingers and plates appeared in front of them both with two pieces of toast with a poached egg on each and a kipper next to them on the plates. “Please, dig in.”

Virgil picked up his fork and knife and cut through one of the eggs, watching it spill out onto the toast. Pride cut off a piece of kipper and ran it through some of the yolk from his own broken egg. “So, Anxiety, you seemed quite upset when I mentioned the Light Sides earlier. Care to share?”

Virgil’s answer was a blunt, “No.” He bit into his piece of toast and narrowed his eyes at Pride. “Why are you asking?”

Pride shrugged. “I am curious on why the other Light Sides would allow such a precious Side like you out into the Subconscious alone. And, Deceit has mentioned several times that you seem like an outcast in our dear Thomas’ videos.”

Virgil glared at him and just barely managed to hold back a hiss. “And so what about it?”

Pride took another bite of his kipper and smirked at Virgil. “Well, as I said, little Anxiety, I’m curious. You are such an essential part of Thomas and yet the others don’t seem to treasure you as such.”

Virgil’s heart started to pound and he swallowed. “What is this?” He hissed. “What, is this some sort of recruitment thing? You want me to betray the Light Sides?”

“First of all,” Pride cut in, pointing his fork full of kipper at Virgil, “I would never ask that of you. Not only would that do nothing for me, as I know you would refuse, but also I have no reason to do that.”

Virgil crossed his arms and huffed. “You’re Roman’s Dark Side though!”

Pride tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Um, yes? I fail to see what this has anything to do with this, Anxiety.”

“It has everything to do with this!” Virgil snapped, waving his arms around. “You’re a Dark Side! Roman’s always talking about how he fights against you to stop trying to take Thomas over, just like the other Dark Sides!”

Pride frowned and when he next spoke, his voice had a bit of an edge to it. “Really? And, why do you believe that we’re attempting to take Thomas over? Have we ever attacked the Light Side? Have we ever done anything terrible to Thomas besides doing our job?”

Virgil flinched back at the hard tone and held onto his fork a little tighter. “No,” he muttered.

Pride seemed to soften at Virgil’s flinch and sighed. “I apologize for snapping, little one. It should be assumed that you would have a negative view of us if you have to listen to his comments all the time.

Virgil crossed his arms. “If this is going to be a big speech about how I should come over and be a Dark Side then you can save it.”

Pride stared at Virgil for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. He rocked back in his chair and threw his head back, horns knocking against his seat. “You!? A, a Dark Side?”

Virgil watched him and, to his surprise, felt a stab of shame. So, Virgil wasn’t good enough to be a Light Side or a Dark Side. Well, there went any drop of self-esteem Virgil had left.

Pride chuckled and wiped at his eyes. “Apologies, my little one, for my outburst. It’s just the thought of you being a Dark Side is amusing to me.”

“Why?” Virgil asked, voice trembling.

Pride narrowed his eyes and smirked playfully. “Because you’re a Light Side. It’s who you are. There’s no changing that.”

Virgil crossed his arms, getting frustrated. He couldn’t count the number of times Roman had dismissed him as being a Light Side. Even Logan and Patton agreed that Virgil was just a little too dark to be one of them. But now sat Pride, an actual Dark Side, saying that he was, 100%, a Light Side. He didn’t know who to believe. “Okay, So, what're the requirements for being a Dark Side?”

Pride shrugged. “To be frank with you, I’m not sure. I just know that you’re not one.” He looked Virgil over, giving him a sultry look. “You practically shine with light. It only adds to your beauty.”

A pink blush stained Virgil’s cheeks and he looked away. “Right,” he squeaked. “Um, yeah. So, I’m a Light Side. Got it.” Virgil put down his half-eaten piece of bread and stood up. He felt overwhelmed with all this information and Pride’s gentle teasing and flirting. “I, uh, should probably get back. Before someone notices I’m gone.”

Pride frown, obviously displeased with Virgil’s decision to leave, but nodded and stood him, his tail sliding out from the chair in a practiced motion. “Of course. I will show you to the exit. Do you require me to bring you to the main exit from the Imagination or will you be able to find it yourself?”

Virgil smirked and shook his head. A route out of the Imagination and into the Subconscious was already being drawn out in his head. “Just show me out of your Kingdom and I’ll be fine. I got my own way out.”

Pride returned Virgil’s smirk. “My, my. This little kitten just maybe slyer and sneakier than I once thought.” He took a step forward and Virgil’s breath hitched when Pride trailed his fingers down Virgil's cheek, barely touching the skin. “I will have to keep that in mind for future meetings.”

Virgil swallowed and he felt his cheeks warm under Pride’s gentle touch. “Um, right. I should,” he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder nervously, “Right.”

Pride’s smirk turned a tad teasing and mischievous. “Yes, I suppose you do. Come, I’ll show you the way.” He walked toward the exit of the dining room and Virgil had no choice but to follow. He jumped a little when a hand landed on his shoulder. Virgil glances over at Pride only to see a cocked eyebrow. The message was clear. ‘Is this okay?’

Virgil nodded shortly and without another word, Pride led him down hallways until they left the castle and came to the drawbridge. Dragons were milling around the courtyard, giving Virgil curious looks but otherwise seemingly happy to leave his to their King. Pride stopped at waved at the drawbridge. “You will find that you’ll be able to sink out of the Imagination after you’ve walked north for around an hour or two. Are you sure that you don’t want me to take you to the main exit though? It can be very difficult to sink out of the Imagination. I could explain the situation to Creativity.”

The thought of facing Roman, Roman with his sharp sword and his hatred for Anxiety, made Virgil break out into a cold sweat. “No,” he said shortly. “I’ll be fine. Um,” he glanced down at his new clothes and looked back up at Pride with a raised eyebrow. “How can I return these to you?”

Pride smiled softly at him and shook his head. “No, little one. Think of those clothes as a gift. The outfit suits you. A true Prince.”

‘Roman’s the Prince,” Virgil thought, a touch bitter. But he didn’t voice his thoughts, instead of averting his gaze and shrugging. He could feel Pride’s assessing gaze on him and finally, he said, “Thanks for letting me stay the night.”

“It was no trouble. You’re a good guest. Perhaps,” Virgil could practically hear Pride’s smile widened, “you’d like to come again sometime. I’d love to properly show you my castle.”

Virgil looked up at smirked at that Prideful Side. “You usually take prisoners on a tour of your castle?”

Pride matched Virgil’s smirk with his own. “Well, you are a special case. I rarely have prisoners so intriguing that they somehow become my guests. Especially one that I’d like to see return.” His smirk softened. “Have a safe journey, Anxiety.”

“I’ll try my best.” Virgil went to leave but stopped, a thought nagging at him. He turned back to Pride and asked, “You never asked my name.”

It had become a common occurrence over with the Light Sides. Virgil couldn’t take one step without someone asking, or what often felt like demanding when he was going to tell them his name. Virgil felt like he was going to explode out of frustration. They all wanted his name, not because they liked him, but because they wanted “the full collection”. He could practically feel Thomas’ urge to learn the name of the scary, terrible, awful Anxiety. So it was certainly a change of pace to go a full day without someone breathing down his throat about it.

Pride raised an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t offer it. Nor did you ask mine. Quid Quo pro? My name for yours?”

Virgil immediately shook his head, hunching in on himself. “No way. Not fucking happening.” His name was the only thing he had that he was proud of. Virgil, Vigilance. It was his and he would be damn if he gave it up like it was like some sort of thing that people were entitled to. It didn’t matter if that meant that he wouldn’t get to know Pride’s name. It also meant the most hidden part of himself would be safe.

“Very well, Anxiety,” Pride said, giving a careless shrug. “Perhaps another time. For now,” he dipped into a bow, giving Virgil a playful smirk, “until we meet again.”

Virgil, cheeks burning, muttered, “Yeah, can’t wait,” before he ran over the drawbridge and down a valley, leaving Pride and his castle of Dragons behind him. But, he couldn’t outrun the memory of that playful smirk.

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It took Virgil a little over two hours to leave Pride’s lands and he could feel the Mindscape open back up to him, giving him the wiggle room he needed to sink out from the Imagination back to the Subconscious. Sinking out to his room would’ve been difficult and Roman might’ve been able to feel the brief energy coming from Virgil’s part of the Mindscape. But, the Subconscious and the Imagination were connected and they mixed together often enough that Roman wouldn’t even question it.

Virgil sighed in relief when the grey fog of the Subconscious surrounded him, happy to be back in a place that he understood, even if it was an unpredictable place like the Subconscious. He gave himself a moment to rest before sinking down into his room. No need to go through the Commons and see the others eating lunch together or watching a movie, not even realizing that Virgil had disappeared for a full day. Virgil didn’t need that extra bit of heartbreak.

His room was the same as when he had left it. His bed was made and his computer waiting for him by his pillows, ready for another journey into Virgil’s favourite hellsite. His pyjamas were folded beside the computer and Virgil eagerly accepted their call, stripping out of the outfit Pride had given him and dumping it on the floor. Virgil pulled on his sweatpants and his oversized t-shirt, feeling any leftover tension just melting off of his shoulders. He sighed and went to crawl into his bed but paused, looking back down at the discarded outfit. Virgil hesitated before stooping down and quickly picking up the clothes, folding them and quickly shoving them under his bed. No need for them to be out in case someone saw them and asked where they came from.

Not that anyone ever came into Virgil’s room.

Virgil pulled his covers down and got into bed. He sighed and looked over to his computer, thinking of maybe working on his PJO fanfic, before grabbing it and placing it on his bedside table. It had been a long day and he didn’t think that he could handle Tumblr’s shitty new policies about text block limits right now.

He snapped his fingers and the lights turned off, his room pitch black except for the soft glow of the night light on the other side of his room. Virgil closed his eyes and tried his best to fall asleep.

But, all he could think of was those red eyes and that they had looked at him with more compassion and kindness than anyone else had ever had in Virgil’s life.

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As expected, no one had noticed Virgil’s leave of absence.

Virgil walked down from his room the next morning, back in his comfortable black hoodie, and into the kitchen to be met with Logan’s wary stare. Somehow, even though Logan was nervous around him, he still managed to be condescending. “Ah, Anxiety. Finally decided to leave your room and be productive, hmm?”

Virgil didn’t answer beside a grunt, opening up the fridge and pulling out the plain, black water bottle he had stored in there. Logan watched him and sniffed. No doubt he thought Virgil was drinking blood or something equally as disgusting

Whatever. He could think whatever he wanted as long as he left Virgil and his honey and strawberry smoothie alone.

“Thomas has a meeting with his friends today,” Logan said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “I trust you won’t be present for it, correct?”

Virgil bit back a sigh and nodded. “Yep,” he muttered. He took a sip of his smoothie and then sneered at Logan. “I’ll be out of your hair, don’t worry. Wouldn’t want Anxiety ruining Thomas’ day.”

Logan nodded. He took a long sip of his coffee and then said dryly, “Quite right. I applaud you using your brain for something more than thinking of new ways of, as you said, ruining Thomas’ day.”

Virgil turned away to hide how his face tightened a little at that comment. He shrugged and went to leave the kitchen but was blocked by Roman stepping into the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe. Virgil’s eye twitched a little. He was so not in the mood for this today. “Mind moving, Princey?”

“Certainly, Robert Downer Jr. “ Roman smiled mockingly down at him. He moved and waved his arm with a flourish. “By all means.”

Virgil moved past him, ignoring the face Roman made as he left him and Logan alone. He pushed down the bitter feeling that came with him knowing that he’d be spending the rest of the day alone again. Just what he wanted, he tried to convince himself. He was probably going to need a day to fully get his mind back on straight after the day he had before.

Patton was going down the stairs and gave Virgil a happy little wave when he saw him. “Morning, Anxiety! I’m glad to see you today!”

Virgil mustered up a smile for the one Side in the Light Side that tolerated him. “Morning, Patton. Good day so far?”

“Yeppers!” Patton grinned. He grabbed Virgil’s hand and smiled hopefully. “I missed you yesterday. You’ll be staying outside with us today, right?”

Guilt settled in Virgil’s stomach and he shook his head. “Not today, Pat. Thomas got friends coming over and no need for any anxiety to get in the way of that, right?”

Patton sighed and shook his head. “I guess you’re right.” Virgil forced back tears at those words and his smile wavered a little. He moved up the stairs before Patton could see just how much trouble Virgil was having holding back tears. Not that he’d even think that something he said might hurt Virgil. Anxiety was a bad guy and bad guys didn’t get their feelings hurt.

“But you’ll come downstairs for dinner, right?”

Virgil could hear the tentative hope in Patton’s voice and he pushed down the urge to immediately agree to anything Patton asked of him. “I dunno, Patton,” he sighed, stopping at the top of the stairs. “I don’t think Logan or Princey would want me there, you know?”

Patton’s voice hardened. “I don’t care if they want you there or not! You’re my friend and I want you there. Please, Anxiety? Come to dinner?” There was a long pause. “Please?”

Virgil closed his eyes and found himself nodding. “Yeah, alright. I’ll be down for dinner tonight.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil did not end up going downstairs for dinner that night. And it was all because Virgil couldn’t handle a stupid argument between friends.

As much as Virgil had tried to remove himself from the situation with Thomas and his friends by staying up in his room all day, he was still a part of Thomas and he couldn’t just shut himself off. He would always be there with Thomas and it wasn’t his fault that when Thomas and Terence started arguing about something so damn stupid that Virgil couldn’t even remember what it was, Virgil started panicking.

“He’s going to leave you,” Virgil whispered, curled up on his bed with his hands tangled in his hair. “Oh fuck, he’s going to leave and then everyone else is going to leave and we’ll be all alone.”

The lights in Virgil’s room flicked and the shadows seemed to extend toward him. And it certainly didn’t help that Roman came up to Virgil’s room, banging on Virgil’s door and screaming at him to stop ruining movie night.

Yep. Virgil not only had to try to deal with the fact that one of Thomas’ best friends would be dumping him soon, but he also had Princey to deal with. Needless to say, Virgil had a difficult and stressful day. And after Patton and Logan had finally managed to pull Roman away from Virgil’s door, calming him down with promises of a movie night with only Disney movies, Patton had returned.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Patton called through the door. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come downstairs for dinner tonight. Roman’s pretty upset about what happened.”

Judging from his tone, Patton wasn’t too happy either. Virgil closed his eyes and curled up tighter on his bed. He hadn’t meant to make such a mess. He never meant to.

Patton kept talking, words a little gentler. “I’m going to leave a plate of dinner outside, okay, Anxiety? I made meatloaf and veg tonight with some boiled potatoes. I really hope you like it!”

‘I hate boiled potatoes,’ Virgil thought distantly with no real force. Instead, he buried his face in his pillow, just waiting for Patton to leave him alone in his misery. He just wanted to sleep and have this day be over already.

Back outside, Patton heaved a heavy sigh. “I just I’ll see you tomorrow, Anxiety. I love you.”

‘Liar,’ Virgil thought, tears burning in his eyes. ‘I love you too.’

With that, Virgil heard another small sigh and footsteps walking away from his room. The smell of meatloaf wafted into Virgil’s room but he couldn’t find it in him to get out of bed and get it. He just laid there staring up at his ceiling, wishing that Pride’s Dragons were there to just end his suffering. Or maybe Pride himself. He could turn into a Dragon, or Virgil was pretty sure that he could.

He laid there for who knows how long until Virgil felt a gentle tugging like someone was trying to summon him. Virgil blinked his eyes open and tried to wave the tugging away. He so wasn’t in the mood to deal with Thomas asking what the heck the extra anxiety during the fight with Terrence was about.

But the tugging wasn’t Thomas or the Light Sides. No, it was different. It was gentler but not the demanding tug that he felt from any of the others. It was a presence that he wasn’t used to but it was familiar. It was Pride. Pride was summoning him. But why? And should he go to him?

Virgil stared up at the ceiling for a few more minutes before sighing. Really, why not go at this point? What was here for him? Cold meatloaf and boiled potatoes? Another night alone? At least this way, even if it was a trap from the Dark Side, Virgil wouldn’t have to be alone with his thoughts anymore.

Besides, maybe seeing Pride again would get rid of the strange knot of emotions forming in Virgil’s gut whenever he thought of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sneaking through the Imagination was easy as always. Especially now since he had a place that he could focus on and imagine in his head. As it took was five minutes of walking through the Subconscious with the image of Pride’s castle at the forefront of his mind for the mist of the Subconscious to clear and Virgil’s destination to appear just a short five-minute walk away. Already, Virgil could see the dragons flying in the air and, standing in front of the gate waiting for him, was the Dragon Witch himself.

Pride gave Virgil a welcoming smile. "Ah, little lamb! And here I thought that you wouldn't be coming."

Virgil had his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets and slouched over nervously, the stress from the day still eating at him. "Well, you called," he said, trying to put even a little enthusiasm into his words. Judging by how Pride's smile didn't fall, Virgil guessed that he may have succeeded.

"I did call." Pride took a step forward and offered his arm, his tail flicking through the grass happily. "I remember offering to take you on a tour of my castle. And I find myself lacking company tonight." One of his eyebrows was raised and his lips quirked up into a little affectionate smirk. "And I couldn't think of better than my little lamb."

Virgil cursed the blush that was already staining his cheeks and avoided Pride's gaze, placing a hand on Pride's arm. "Couldn't think of better company other than Anxiety? Jeez, you must be really lonely."

Pride pouted, drawing Virgil's attention to his cherry-red painted lips. "Who else would I call? Deceit? He might have an eye for art but that Side wouldn't know good conversation if it bit him in the ass. I mean, really, philosophy is good and all but I'd like to talk about something else for once!"

Virgil bit down on his lip to cut off any laughter that had been forming. The thought of Deceit, a Side who Virgil only knew from ushering him away from the Light Side, waxing poetic about philosophy was almost amusing. He would never have pegged Deceit as one to like philosophy like Pride was suggesting. "Well," he muttered with a smirk, "I don't know how much better I'll be. I'm not," he swallowed and glanced away. "I'm not feeling the best right now."

But Pride only shrugged carelessly. "Perfectly fine. Actually, I've been told that my voice can be rather soothing so it's really fortunate that you've come." He winked at Virgil flirtatiously. "You just listen to my dulcet tones and you'll be feeling better in no time."

Virgil snorted and shook his head, following Pride into his castle. For some reason, the guilt, misery, and fear from the fight with Terrence and what had happened afterward disappeared almost as soon as Pride started talking. It didn't take long for Virgil to figure out why. It wasn't often that someone talked to him without even a nervous glance in his direction or a hint of snideness or fear in their voice.

But here Pride was, chattering away about his castle, his subjects, and complaining about Deceit and the other Dark Sides without any nerves or fearful glances. He didn't even try and keep Virgil at arm's length, letting him walk right next to him with his hand still on his arm.

It made something in Virgil's chest tighten and made his eyes a little wet.

"So, Anxiety. Just what has you looking like a kicked puppy and would you like me to kill it for you?"

The two of them had moved into a cushy and cozy den with armchairs placed near a roaring fireplace. Pride was sitting back in his with all the grace of a King, his arms on the arms of the chair and legs crossed daintily. Meanwhile, Virgil was curled up in his own chair with his legs pulled tight up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs.

Virgil blinked at him numbly. “What? No, I’m fine.” His eyes flicked down when Pride raised an eyebrow incredulously. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Pride drawled. “Really, I don’t know why you’d be okay. I mean, Deceit was positively furious about what happened with Terrence. And Shame was in tears. The poor dear cried herself to sleep.” He waved a hand toward Virgil. “From how anxious Thomas was and still is, I’m guessing that you’re not doing too well either.”

Virgil curled into a tighter ball and his lips turned down into a scowl. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It’s all my fault. Evil Anxiety ruined everything like always. Just ruined the whole day Thomas had planned with Terrence.” He dug his nails into his legs. “That’s what you get when you have a Villain in your head.”

Pride narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, uncrossing his legs. “And, just how is this your fault? You didn’t start the argument with Terrence nor are you responsible for how Thomas is feeling now.” He tapped his fingernails against the arms of the chair. “Why would you think that?”

“Because it’s always my fault,” Virgil said bitterly. The day that he had just had, the snide comments from Logan, the mocking words from Roman, the fight with Terrence, and the disappointment from Patton caught up to him all at once and then he was fighting back tears. “Thomas got anxious about that stupid, goddamn fight and I ruined the entire night because I kept freaking out and, and,” he trailed off and scrubbed at his eyes furiously. “It was just so fucking stupid and now we’re going to lose one of our best friends!”

Pride chuckled and waved a hand in dismissal. “We’re not going to lose Terrence over such a silly argument. He’s our friend after all.”

Virgil glared at Pride, barely holding back his tears. “We fucked up! Terrence would be an idiot if he didn’t get the hell away from us! We always ruin everything!” He threw his hands up in the air, getting worked up now. “He’s gonna leave and then all of Thomas’ other friends are gonna leave too and we’ll be all alone and Thomas will be ruined!”

Pride tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Hmm, but why? Terrence and Thomas have had many, many arguments in the past. He’s had arguments with all of his friends before and they’ve all stayed.” A proud grin grew on his face. “Thomas does have rather brilliant friends, doesn’t he?”

“Well, yeah, duh,” Virgil said, blinking at Pride in confusion and a few tears escaping him. “That’s obvious but,”

“So,” Pride continued, leaning forward and wiping away Virgil’s tears with his thumb, Virgil too surprised to stop him. “If our friends are so brilliant and loyal,” he raised an eyebrow. “They are loyal, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are,” Virgil snapped, insulted that Pride would even suggest that.

“And they love Thomas.”

Virgil glanced down at the ground, feeling small and stupid as he got what Pride was trying to explain to him. “And they love Thomas,” he muttered.

Pride smiled at him, soft and kind. “Exactly, little lamb. They love Thomas and that means that none of them, Terrence included, are going to leave us.” He chuckled, not mean or cruel but kind and soft. “They’re not going anywhere, little lamb, I promise.”

Virgil closed his eyes and his shame for overreacting, again, heightened “Right,” he muttered. He suddenly felt stupid, feeling so stupid and terribly that he went to a Dark Side, the Dragon Witch, for company. The armchair he had been sitting jerked as Virgil stood up abruptly. “I-I should go.”

Pride stood up too, tail sliding out of the hole in the armchair easily. He frowned at Virgil in something that Virgil could almost read as concern. “Go? But why? You just got here not that long ago.” He stepped forward, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “Is anything alright, Anxiety? You’re looking positively pale.”

Virgil shook his head, his hands shaking and his gut twisting. “No, I should leave,” he muttered. “Sorry, this whole thing was stupid, I was just being so damn stupid coming here, getting upset. Sorry, I should yeah,” he turned to leave but Pride caught his hand in a tight hold.

“Anxiety,” Pride said, said in a tone that was far gentler than Virgil was used to hearing. “What’s wrong? Tell me, little one. What happened? Tell me what ailed you and I will kill it, I swear it.”

Virgil avoided Pride’s eyes and swallowed down the bile that had risen at the Dragon Witch’s words. Roman had forever ruined that phrase for him with the fear that one day the Prince would find what ailed Thomas, Virgil, and kill him. It was something that kept Virgil up most nights. And in the hopes to change the subject as quickly as he could, Virgil spat out the first thing that came to his mind. “You’re a Witch!”

Embarrassment and horror quickly followed and Virgil wanted to sink through the floor and die. ‘Great thing to say, really,’ Virgil thought. ‘It’s obvious and it shows just how awkward and stupid you are. Brilliant Virgil, you’re just brilliant.’

Thankfully, Pride just smirked and nodded. “A Dragon Witch,” he said, bowing his head a little to show off his horns. His tail twitched a little like he was pleased that Virgil had noticed. “A King too but we were talking about me being a Dragon Witch, not a King.” He smiled at Virgil and chuckled. “I’d offer a demonstration but it’s all rather startling, turning into a Dragon and all. But, perhaps instead I could offer you a quiet dinner and a room for the night?”

“I should get back to the Light Side,” Virgil said reluctantly, not really wanting to go back to his room and eat the, by now cold, meatloaf and boiled potatoes. Hearing the others downstairs having their fun, family movie night would only make it worse. “In case anyone misses me.”

Pride’s lips dipped down into a perfect pout. “Oh, stay, please. I’m so much more fun than boring old Princey and the other Light Sides. Besides, and I hope you won’t mind me saying this, but you seem almost as lonely as I do.” He tilted his head. “Just a few hours and maybe a quick dinner? Please?”

Something squirmed in Virgil’s gut, weird and different and something that Virgil had never felt before. It felt almost exactly like the saying that Patton liked to toss around every so often. Like he had butterflies in his stomach.

“Um, just for a bit,” Virgil stuttered. “I guess that that would be okay, I guess.” He glanced down, having trouble looking right into Pride’s eyes for some reason.

“Perfect,” Pride cheered, pulling Virgil to his side. Virgil choked a little on his spit, his whole face turning pink. “Come, let’s have some dinner! Though, we must have you in proper clothing. After all, I made my little corner of the imagination a castle for a reason. Do you have those clothes I made for you?”

Virgil swallowed nervously and nodded. “Um, y-yeah. Just let me, um, yeah.” He snapped his fingers and the pile of clothes that Pride had given him landed on the chair that he had just been sitting in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roman jerked up with a frown on his face, his connection to the imagination rippling with a strange energy. Patton frowned up at him from where he was cuddling with Logan on the couch. “Roro? Is something wrong, Kiddo?”

“Um,” Roman blinked and tried to focus on the energy he had felt. But the energy was already fading and he couldn’t get a grip on it. “Nothing, nothing. Probably just one of Pride’s stupid Dragons getting near my edge of the Imagination again.” He shook his head and pulled at his sash thoughtfully. “Probably nothing.”

He’d look into it later. A movie night with his family was much more important than some stupid, strange energy in the Imagination. Yes, later. He’d look into it later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pride had left him in the sitting room to let him get dressed and once Virgil was back in the clothes that the Dragon Witch had made for him, with his black hoodie wrapped around his waist, Pride led him back to the same room where they had eaten the day before. “I know that we had breakfast last night, pretty odd since it was rather late when we ate it, but I had my Dragons cook up a proper dinner for us tonight. I know that you’ll love it!”

Virgil had his hand back on Pride’s arm and was doing his best to talk through the utter squirming in his chest. “Bet,” he mumbled, wincing at the stupid word choice but Pride just laughed affectionately and the end of his tail wrapped around Virgil’s wrist.

“Bet,” Pride echoed. He led Virgil over to the table, sliding the chair out for Virgil before walking around the long table to sit across from him. Plates and a glass full of some dark liquid appeared right in front of them both almost as soon as Pride sat down and Virgil’s mouth watered at the smell and the sight

Pride chuckled at the look on Virgil’s face and he gestured to him. “Are you going to eat it or just stare at it all day, my little lamb?” He picked up his own knife and fork, cutting into his steak with ease.

Virgil swallowed and followed suit. “Right, right. Um, thanks.” He cut into his own steak, eyeing the salad on the side with hungry eyes. There were no potatoes on this plate and Virgil was about two minutes from promising to never leave if Pride was going to make him food like this at every meal.

Hell, he was two minutes from promising that anyways if Pride kept up the kindness and not treating Virgil like he was evil incarnate.

“So, you’re Pride,” he said, trying and failing miserably at starting a conversation.

“And you’re Anxiety,” Pride said back. He smirked at Virgil, sending a spark through Virgil’s heart. “A Dark Side and a Light Side sitting down for dinner together. Strange, isn’t it?” He leaned forward and cocked an eyebrow. “Something that I’d like to do more often. Especially with my favourite little lamb.”

Virgil’s face warmed and he glanced away, biting off another of steak just so he wouldn’t say something weird and make things awkward. But the bite of steak was eventually eaten and Virgil had to say something. “So, why Dragons?”

Why Dragons. Virgil was one of the stupidest Sides in existence, it was proven.

Pride only shrugged and started swirling his glass around. “Why not? I admire them. They know what’s there and they protect them. If you think about it, you’re a bit of a Dragon too.”

That really shouldn't hurt Virgil as much as it did, especially since the comment was meant as praise and given by a Side who willingly called himself the Dragon Witch. But, after hearing all about how Dragons were villains and evil from Roman, the comment certainly stung. Virgil could barely cut his steak again, his hands were shaking so much. “From what Prince Pompous told me, that’s not much of a compliment,” he muttered.

“But why not?” Pride took a sip from his glass and raised an eyebrow. “What’s so bad about Dragons? Like I said, they know what’s theirs and who they are. They’re proud of what they have and who they are. To me, that’s a good thing.”

Virgil stared down at his plate, appetite quickly leaving him. “But I'm not proud,” he said softly. “Not of myself, of my stuff, of anything. How am I a Dragon?”

“First of all,” Pride said with a little frown. “You should be proud of yourself. You’re one of the Sides who protect Thomas and all of us. How many times would Thomas have died if you hadn’t been there?”

Virgil said nothing so Pride continued, pointing his fork at Virgil. “Secondly, you are a Dragon. Dragons protect what are theirs and you do that every single day by just being you.”

“By...just being me?”

Pride’s entire demeanour seemed to soften and he smiled at Virgil gently, making Virgil’s heart flipped. “Yes, my dear Anxiety. Just by being you.”

Dinner passed quickly after that and Virgil found himself disappointed when he glanced at his phone and realized that it was eleven o’clock. He winced. Ugh, the others would be finished up with their movie night by now and it would be almost impossible to leave the Imagination since Roman liked strolling through the Imagination before he went to bed. Not completely impossible but it would be annoyingly hard.

Thankfully, Pride refused to even hear of Virgil leaving his Kingdom that late. “Not a chance,” Pride huffed. “Let you leave at this time of night? No, that is out of the question. I’ll escort you to your room for the night and you can sleep here. I’ll have the same guards that guarded your room the last time do so again. Good? Good.”

So that’s how Virgil found himself spending yet another night at a castle crawling with Dragons and ruled by a Dragon Witch. But, it was only for the night. It wasn’t like he’d ever go back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil kept going back.

Honestly, it wasn’t his fault. Pride’s kindness was like a fucking drug and Virgil was high off of it. After years of getting nothing but snide comments, fear, and Patton’s wary care, being talked to like he was an actual person felt like being on cloud nine all the damn time. Pride could be actual confess to manipulating him and Virgil would probably be completely fine with it as long as Pride kept up talking to him, giving him little hugs, and calling him “Little Lamb”.

Yeah. Virgil was so fucking pathetic.

It started getting to the point where Virgil spent almost all of his time with the Dark Side, not leaving Pride’s side of the Imagination unless Thomas needed him for a video. If the other Light Sides noticed anything amiss then they didn’t say anything. Thankfully, Roman didn't seem to notice the brief energy from Virgil stupidly summoning his clothes from his room, which took a huge weight off of Virgil’s shoulders.

Virgil’s life had actually started getting a little better after meeting Pride. Having someone to talk to and actually listen to him and his concerns was something that Virgil had been looking for since he had manifested and had been denied every single day of his life. He was trying to look a little more on the “light side”, especially with Pride there to talk him through any concerns he had. It felt like, for once in his life, Virgil was actually in a good place.

And then came the cartoon episode and everything came crashing down around him.

Every good thing that had been happening in Virgil’s life seemed utterly insignificant in light of what had happened. Having one of his dreams of being a cartoon, a dream that he should have known better than to share with the other, and having it twisted to be where he was a villain again was like a slap back to reality. He wasn’t good, he wasn’t soft or a protector like Pride insisted. He was a villain and villains never got redemption stories. They didn’t get good things or people who listened to them and helped calm them down from panic attacks or stupid thoughts. They were forced to fly, Virgil hated heights, and got punched by the person that they were trying to protect.

So was it really surprising that when the video ended, Virgil walked straight to his room and locked it from the inside, intent on throwing away the key? After how far he was pushed? After everything that he had been through? Was it really surprising that he no longer wanted to be hated and to be holding Thomas back?

He was useless, he was evil, he was done. Virgil couldn’t do this anymore. So as soon as he had locked the door, he placed the key on his bed, cut himself off from Thomas, grabbed his new purple and black hoodie, and sunk down into the unconscious, intent on walking through the unconscious forever.

But, of course, it didn’t go Virgil’s way. Why the hell would it? No, nothing ever went Anxiety’s way. Only after walking five minutes through the unconscious, someone settled in by Virgil’s side, walking with him. Virgil didn’t even flinch. He had with this person far too much to not recognize his energy signature by now. “Hey,” he croaked.

“Hello,” Pride hummed. His tail reached up, wrapping around Virgil’s waist. “I was watching the most recent video.” The tail tightened around Virgil’s waist. “I’ve never seen one before. The way they treated you.” He stopped them both and gently turned Virgil around and brushed a gentle thumb under Virgil’s black eye while cupping Virgil’s cheek with his other hand. “I once offered to kill whatever ails you. The fact that the things that ails you are the other Light Sides doesn’t change this in the slightest. Say the word and I’ll destroy them for you, I swear it, my dear Prince.”

Virgil’s throat tightened at Pride’s words and his lower lip wobbled a little. “No,” he whispered, leaning into Pride’s hand. “No, don’t kill them. T-they’re r-right, I’m a v-v-villain and they’re, they’re,” the words died and he trailed off. The Dragon Witch and Anxiety were silent for a few moments, the fog of the Unconscious drifting around them.

“Come with me,” Pride whispered. “You’ve cut yourself off from Thomas, I can feel it. I can’t stop you from doing this but I can protect you.” His red eyes stared at Virgil pleadingly. “Please, come with me, Anxiety. Please.”

Virgil closed his eyes, feeling small and hopeless in this one moment and as if the only person who cared for him was Pride. Like Pride was the only person in the entire world who loved him. Not that that was exactly wrong. And in that one moment, he could think of only one thing to say. “Virgil.”

The hand that had been brushing Virgil’s thumb fell from Virgil’s face in surprise and the hand on his cheek loosened. “Virgil,” Pride repeated. The name was drawn out and spoken with such love and gentleness that Virgil almost cried. “Virgil. Virgil, my Prince, my little lamb.” His tail pulled Virgil a little closer to him and Pride rested his forehead against the Anxious Side’s. “My name is Adam, my dear Anxiety. And Adam the Dragon Witch, Thomas’ Pride, ruler of the Dragon Kingdom, will care for you from now on, my Dear.”

Virgil opened his eyes and looked up at Adam with teary eyes.“I forgot the clothes you gave me in my room,” Virgil croaked.

“I’ll make you new ones,” Adam promised. “Clothes fit for the Prince you are.”

And with that, Adam the Dragon Witch pulled Virgil down into his Kingdom to rest.

#sanders sides fic #storm writes #pre accepting anxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #pride sanders #dragon witch

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ficklefics · 4 years

Text

Our Fathers’ Scars - Zuko x Reader

When Zuko gets lost in the forests surrounding the Western Air Temple, a mysterious girl helps him. They soon discover they have more in common than they might think.

MASTERLIST

Warnings: Abuse mention

Zuko never liked to admit he was wrong if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. But he was well and truly lost.

It had started as just a short walk in the forest, something to clear his head a bit. He had snapped at Sokka, more aggressive than his usual responses to the “lovable” idiot’s jokes and quips, and the stunned silence from the group made him realise that he might have a bit of built-up tension. Of course, that was understandable. Everything they were doing was leading up to a battle with his father, a battle that would determine the fate of the world, and it was his job to train Aang to firebend. If he failed…

He yelled in frustration, throwing a ball of fire into a copse of trees. A yelp from the same direction drew his attention. Panicked, he sprinted over to the now charred and smoking trees.

“Hello?” He called out, hoping that whoever it was would be okay. “You really need to be more careful if you’re going to be throwing fire around like that.” The voice came from his right. Looking around, he found a girl, around his age, lying in the dirt where she seemed to have thrown herself when dodging the fire. “I- I’m sorry,” Zuko noticed an upturned basket a few metres from her and picked it up, scooping the fallen fruits back in. “Really, I…” “It’s fine,” She rolled her eyes as she pushed herself up. She was dressed simply, in a weather-worn dress with long sleeves and well-used sandals. When the two made eye contact, they both froze. She frowned, clearly thinking hard. Oh sh- “Prince Zuko?” She gasped. “Well, kind of just Zuko now.” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, immediately looking away from her shocked stare. Glancing up ever so slightly, he watched her carefully through his tangled hair. “Do I know you?” He had to be careful – she could be a scout, a spy, or even just loyal to the Fire Nation. “No,” She laughed slightly, “You visited my village once, six years ago or so. Some royal tour. There’s no reason you’d remember me.” “I might have.” He tried to defend himself, but the look she gave him made him wince. “So what’s the traitor prince doing here?” She asked, glancing around as though looking for troops. He knew his presence was the opposite of relaxing. Seeing his unease, the girl tried to give him a calming smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you in. I have no desire to go running to a soldier. I’m (Y/N).” “Zuko.” “Yes, I know.” She did her best to hold back a laugh at his social ineptitude. “Oh, yeah. Um… I got lost.” “Lost?” “Yeah. I’m staying at the Western Air Temple with some, erm, friends.” “The Avatar?” “How did you-?” “Educated guess. Why else would you have left the capital?” “I guess.”

She glanced up, a frown appearing on your face. “The Western Air Temple?” “Yes.” “You won’t get back before dark.” Zuko lifted his head with her to see an orange sky – the sun must be setting. “I’ll be fine.” “No, you shouldn’t wander the forest at night. Stay with me, and I’ll take you to your friends in the morning.” “I’m serious-” “And so am I,” She insisted. “I don’t live far from here. Come on.”

Zuko figured she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so when she started walking away he followed. They took a seemingly invisible path through the trees. There were no clear markers or tracks, but (Y/N) walked confidently. The sun was setting quickly, the light filtering through the trees dimming with every moment.

As if out of nowhere a small house appeared. It sat in a clearing, and a stream ran behind it. An idyllic sanctuary hidden from the world. Inside was only one room, bare except for a hearth, a bed, and rugs on the floor. “You live here?” “Not quite a palace, I know, but it’s better than nothing.” (Y/N) set down the basket by the hearth. “It’s nice.” And he wasn’t even lying. The simplicity of it, the isolation – it was so completely foreign to how he was raised. He almost envied it, though he supposed the makeshift home at the Air Temple was essentially the same, just less permanent. “Sure. I guess.” Something shifted on her face, a sadness, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a smile. “Are you hungry?” He nodded. Suddenly he was starving. He wasn’t sure when he last ate. (Y/N) knelt down and tossed some wood and kindling into the hearth. Next, she grabbed some matches, but they refused to stay lit long enough. “Um, you know I can…?” Zuko tried to offer help, but the words came out clumsily. “Go for it.” She sighed, sitting back on her heels. He knelt beside her and held a hand above the wood. In an instant, there was a roaring fire. Zuko smiled, glad to have done some good, and (Y/N) returned it. “Thanks.” She crossed to a hatch in the floor that he hadn’t seen and opened it, reaching in and pulling out another basket. From inside she pulled out some vegetables and some meat. They sat in silence while she cooked, the vegetables roasting and the meat turning on a spit. The smell made his stomach rumble embarrassingly loud. He grimaced, but (Y/N) didn’t say anything.

They sat and ate. The silence was beginning to grow awkward, at least to Zuko, but he didn’t know how to fill it. Knowing him, he would only make things worse. “Can I ask you something?” Luckily (Y/N) broke the silence, setting her now-empty plate aside. “Sure.” “Why did you leave your father? Join the Avatar?” “It was the right thing to do.” She examined him closely. “I just… I realised that being the person my father wanted me to be would never make me happy – and my uncle, he was always trying to teach me how to be good. He always knew what was best for me.” “He sounds like a smart man.” “He is. Now, can I ask you something?” She nodded. “Why do you live out here, all alone? You told me you used to live in a village. What changed?” “I…” Looking away, her hands clenched into fists. “You need to understand that it’s more complicated than it seems.” She was close to shaking. “I… I killed my father.” Zuko shifted slightly away from her, shocked, but he was prepared to listen. Something about (Y/N) seemed genuine. She could have lied, but she didn’t. There must be a good reason. “He was awful. He… he wasn’t good to us. I protected my brothers and sisters from him, and I tried to protect my mother. But I wasn’t strong enough. He was a firebender. He killed her.” Tears were welling in her eyes but she quickly brushed them away. “So you killed him, to protect the rest of your family.” She nodded. “But why did you have to leave?” “No one believed me. Everyone thought he was perfect. I had to run. They would have executed me.” “What about the rest of your family?” “I made sure they were safe. Happy. They’re better off without me.” She stood up abruptly, kicking ashes to smother the dying fire. “It’s getting late. I’ll get you some blankets.”

Zuko could tell she was upset. So he didn’t push the topic. Instead, he stood with her and helped tidy the dishes. When she tried to offer him the only bed, he insisted he would be fine on the floor.

“Goodnight Zuko.” “Goodnight (Y/N).”

Zuko woke up with the dawn. Pale light was starting to stream through the windows, illuminating the room. He rolled over to face (Y/N)’s bed – but she wasn’t there.

He sat up, panicking. Did something happen? The bed was made. He would have heard if she’d been taken. But why would she have disappeared? He stood up and made his way out of the hut. It must have rained during the night; the ground was muddy, and he could see footprints leading away towards the stream. He followed them silently. The stream wove through the trees and it didn’t take long for him to find its end, a small lake. And by the water’s edge knelt (Y/N). He stepped forward, about to call out to her when he noticed something. She had shed her dress and wore only a slight undershirt and trousers. Under the straps of her top, Zuko could see scars that wound their way across her back and down her arms. Some old and barely visible, others deep and angry. The skin was twisted and rough.

“(Y/N),” Zuko called softly, hoping not to startle her.

He failed.

She jumped, a slight scream escaping her lips as she lost her footing and fell into the lake. Zuko hurried over, prepared to jump in to help, but the water was shallow and (Y/N) was sitting submerged to her waist, shocked. “Sorry.” Zuko cringed at himself. He offered a hand, which she took, and pulled her out of the water. Her clothes were soaked. Without thinking, Zuko pulled off his overshirt and wrapped it around her. “Thank you.” She clung to the fabric, covering herself. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” “It’s okay.” “Your scars…” Zuko realised that it probably wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Your father gave them to you?” “I told you he was awful.” (Y/N) sighed. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he was showing sympathy for her father’s abuse, or if he was apologising for asking. Probably both. “It’s not that bad. At least I can hide them.” She tried to shrug it off but Zuko shook his head. “Don’t say that. You don’t need to diminish your suffering. I know what it’s like to say it could be worse or to say it was my fault. But it’s not true. No one deserves something like that.” He was talking about himself just as much as her. She looked at Zuko, confusing mix of sadness and pain and frustration, but also… gratefulness? “I guess I needed to hear that. All I get is blame – from the village, from my family, from myself. It’s always everything I did wrong.” “And never what you did right.” “Exactly. Thank you, Zuko.”

He wasn’t sure what to say, but luckily (Y/N) started leading the way back to her home. When they got there she went inside to change. Zuko watched the sun rising as he waited, taking peace in the colours streaking the sky. “Here.” (Y/N) handed her his shirt as she came back out, now back in her dress. “We should get going – wouldn’t want your friends worrying.” He nodded and slipped the shirt on. Her hair was still wet.

By the time they made it to the cliff over the Western Air Temple the sun had fully risen and (Y/N)’s hair had dried. “Well, this is where I leave you.” She smiled, almost sadly. “Thank you, (Y/N), for everything.” “It was nothing.” She seemed to be thinking, a slight frown creasing her forehead. Zuko was about to ask if she was okay when she darted forward and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His mouth dropped open and he turned bright red. There was a shy smile on her face. “Go save the world, Zuko.” And with that, she had turned and was disappearing into the forest. Zuko watched her until she was gone. The blush refused to leave his face. The feeling of the kiss lingered, and he smiled.

“I will, (Y/N). For you.”

MASTERLIST

#zuko/reader #zuko x reader #zuko #atla #atla/reader #atla x reader #avatar #avatar the last airbender

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

Long Live

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Part 13

Summary: It was time to face the night and the morning.

Archive of Our Own Link

A/n: y’all this got really cute and fluffy and I don’t know where it came from but it is so soft and precious because I feel like we all need a little break right now. So here you go, it’s soft and sweet. I love you guys so much. Always keep fighting.

My eyes crept open to a familiar place. It was home. My home... in America. My room with en suite bathroom. I patted Draco’s shoulder and he let me down, clearly confused. My feet fell into a familiar pattern as I went to my dresser and pulled out an oversized t-shirt and fleece pants. Blinking, I pulled out another set and tossed them to Draco, who was still baffled.

Trudging to the bathroom, my makeup came off, and my hair was brushed, my dress discarded. In comfortable clothes, I headed back to Draco, whose wardrobe matched mine.

“Where are we?” He asked as I sat on the bed, rearranging the pillows into a well-known configuration. “What is this place?”

“My room. Back home,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. “Where did it come from?”

“I don’t know... a door just opened and here it was,” Draco sat beside me.

Laying my head on his shoulder I let my eyes slip closed again. His arm curled around me.

“What a night,” I whispered.

He chuckled.

“I think that’s a bit of an understatement, darling,”

I hummed in agreement and curled up under the covers, taking a deep breath, the scent of home encasing me in comfort. The bed dipped beside me as Draco laid beside me. I rotated, until I was able to lay my head on his chest, my arm draped over him. I felt safer there than I ever had before in my life.

“Night Dray,” I slurred out.

“Goodnight love,” He whispered back. “I love you,” “I love you too,”

My dreams were odd, fading in and out. Nothing that was too concrete or worrisome. It was peaceful: my mother’s arms wrapped around me, Christmas’ past that held magic on their own,

beach days and the summer sun that offered warmth, Draco beside me in the hall or at dinner, the feeling of his hand in mine.

It was safe. It was home.

In my dreams there was no morning to worry about. No conversations, no magic, no wizards, no curses. I got to be free from it all in this room and in my dreams. I got to be muggle again, innocent to the world that hovered around me.

______________________________

Draco watched you as you slept on his chest, a little frown making its way to your face as you fell asleep, but soon smoothed itself out as you fell into a deeper sleep. A smile then appeared on your face, soft and gentle. There wasn’t worry or fear or hurt on your face when you slept. You seemed younger, happier.

Your gentle breathing and the weight of the night eventually pulled him under as well, despite his best efforts.

And for the first time in his life, he didn’t dream at all.

You shifted in your sleep, stretching your legs out and tangling them with his, causing him to wake. He blinked through the darkness and saw that the room around him had changed. It was now his room back home. He wondered why the room had changed on them as the first bits of dawn came in through the window.

Nonetheless, he looked at you, clutching at one of his pillows and the green duvet that draped his bed, and a smile found its way to his face. He never thought that he’d ever see you in his bed looking like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was almost enough for the horrid memories of hiding in his room and spending long summers alone here with nothing more than house eves as company. You had that effect, taking what was dull and faded and bringing life and color back to it.

“What are you doing?” The question tumbled from your lips. “Go back to sleep,” Grumbling you rolled over and curled yourself into his chest again.

“It’s morning Y/n,” He chided softly.

“I’m on vacation,” You argued with a yawn.

He laughed and sat up, dislodging your position, earning him a rather disgruntled look that he couldn’t help but love as you glared at him. Recognition crossed your face as you realized the change in scenery.

“Your room then?” You mused, stretching and sitting up, letting your eyes wander.

He took a breath and nodded, pulling you into his arms.

“I really don’t want to face today,” The confession was small as you leaned against him. “I... I have no idea how I summoned that Patronus... and I don’t want to have to think about it. Then there’s the rest of the school to face and,” A groan left your lips as you pouted.

Draco pondered her words, adding a few things of his own to that list mentally: he’d have to face his father eventually, and Pansy, he was sure that your friends would never trust him again, and that the entire school wouldn’t listen to what really happened.

“We do it together then,” He whispered softly.

________________________________

Sitting in Dumbledore’s office beside Draco again, anxiety crept into my chest, inching its way into every crevasse.

Dumbledore, with the company of Snape and McGonagall, had us recount the nights events, extracting ever little detail, questioning everything.

“And you ran,” Dumbledore clarified. “What were you thinking my dear? What thoughts were going through your head?”

I pursed my lips, clenching my fists, taking a sharp breath in.

“I’d rather not say,” I whispered.

“Do you understand how important this is Miss Lupine!?” Snape bellowed. “You preformed the most powerful spell known to wizards and you’d ‘rather not say’ what you were thinking!?”

Draco, stood, snarling at the professor, his hand reaching for his wand. McGonagall and I both stepped in the way of the two, calming them both. Draco took a few deep breaths and nodded, hovering close to me still.

I turned back to Dumbledore.

“I... have spent a long time taming my inner thoughts,” I began. “My family has a history of what muggles call depression. Thoughts that act like dementors inside the mind, sucking the soul and life from me.” My voice was even and calm. “I have had a very good handle on them this year, but when...” I trailed off and then picked back up. “They broke free, these thoughts and I fought back against them. I am stronger than them and I am worthy.”

McGonagall smiled softly at me, and Snape seemed to be in shock, as if he never would have guessed. Dumbledore remained composed, however.

“I see,” He nodded. “Well, I do believe that explains it don’t you?”

I frowned and blinked.

“Not really?”

“You said it yourself my dear, you have dementors residing in your mind at all waking hours, and when they overwhelmed you, you called on your Patronus and fought back,”

“Oh,” I gnawed on my lip and nodded. “Alright,”

“Now, I do believe that the two of you have more than deserved this holiday break,” Dumbledore smiled. “But please, stay on school grounds for your safety.”

We both nodded. There were questions in Draco’s eyes about what I had said, but I simply shrugged. I’d answer them, but at another time.

Timid, we both headed down the steps out of Dumbledore’s office and came to the door that would lead us back into the hall.

“Ready?” Draco asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” I muttered and took his hand.

He opened the door, and to my worst fear there was a swarm of students—if not the entire school—outside the door, all looking to us expectantly. Draco and I looked to each other, dumbfounded and lost to what we should do next.

“Long live the Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Princess!” Someone shouted who sounded a lot like George or Fred.

Applause erupted around us, students from every school and every house all clapping and cheering as they made a path for us to weave through. My face went red as we walked through the throng of people, familiar faces beaming at me, cheering me on—Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff alike.

I looked over to Draco, who was beaming beside me, his head held high. I followed suit and we walked, arms linked, together. A laugh escaped my lips as I spotted the Weasley twins who were giving me a thumbs-up, next to them Harry Ron and Hermione waving. I waved back and Hermione ran over to give me a hug. It was then that everyone broke line and swarmed us giving hugs and pats on the back. It was surreal, but I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

We all filed into the Great Hall for one of the most bizarre lunches I had ever seen at Hogwarts. The House Table rules were thrown to the wind as the students intermingled and sat with each other, all talking of the Yule Ball, the Triwizard Cup.

Draco stayed beside me as people hovered around us, wanting to hear the story. Thankfully Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all up to the challenge of the retelling, so that Draco and I had a moment to actually eat lunch.

The excitement faded as the afternoon lulled to evening and a massive snowball fight broke out in the courtyard. Teams formed then disbanded and it was every man for himself, until someone

else created and alliance and it was a mad house of snow and screams of joy and surprise as an unsuspecting victim got pelted with snow.

I stayed on the outskirts of the fight, not engaging anyone. Wearing Mrs. Weasley’s sweater and Draco’s scarf along with my mother’s coat and gloves, I preferred to stay away from the cold powdery snow. But I grinned, watching Draco run around in the frost, throwing balls of ice and dodging them all the same.

It wasn’t until Fred missed Viktor and the flurry of snow pelted me that Draco really held any alliance. He gave me a look and a smirk, of which I returned and dove into the battle, Draco and I on mission.

Fred and George teamed up automatically, and Hermione, Ginny, and Harry joined Draco and me. Soon sides were chosen in a mix of red, blue, green, and yellow as we all screamed a battle cry and attacked the other side.

For a moment, last night was all but forgotten. Covered in melting snow, I curled into Draco’s side as the battle ended, no winner in sight, but no one walking away a loser either.

Winter break passed, and I honestly had a hard time differentiating days. Draco and I stayed together except at nights when we had to return to our dorm rooms. We spent days taking walks along the grounds in the frost that had turned the school into a wonderland of snow. Somewhere along the way I had adopted his scarf and he had mine. Some nights we would go to the Astronomy Tower to sit and talk, or to dance, or to just be together in the silence and stars.

My dark thoughts stayed chained down and tucked away, giving way to something that felt strong and pure. More than happiness, more than joy.

The feeling of content.

Part 15

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sabraeal · 4 years

Text

Clean Cut

All Tangled Up

Obiyuki AU Bingo Rapunzel AU

“Are you ready to be rescued?”

In retrospect, it’s a stupid question to ask. He’d meant it to be rhetorical; most women in her situation-- not that Obi goes around rescuing women from towers, but he assumes-- would jump at the opportunity. They would squeal, falling into his arms, eyes wide and limpid, and thank him profusely. They would throw their arms around his neck and tell him how strong and impressive he was, how handsome, how clever. After all, flattery could get you anywhere-- he would know.

Instead, barely missing a beat, this girl says, “No.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Oh, not that-- yes to the rescue!” she clarifies, screwing the lid back on the ointment. “But I’m not nearly ready! Can I have a few minutes?”

He should have said no. He should have tossed her over his shoulder and hauled her out the window like the brigand Sir thinks he is.

Instead, he says, “Don’t see why not.”

Oh, but now-- now he does.

“We do need to to get a move on,” he reminds her, watching her disappear behind the wardrobe door. “This is a rescue, Miss.”

“Oh!” She peeps back around, those bright eyes all wide and glittering. “Just one more minute! I’m almost finished.”

Obi strangles a sigh, hand rubbing at his shoulder. When His High and Mighty told him that he’d have to rescue a girl in a tower, he’d imagined a crooked, vine-covered thing, its stone crumbling and its wide-eyed ingenue dressed in rags, her sweet voice trembling as she asks, are you a man?

Needless to say, this is a bit of a let down.

Or it would be, if the waifish ingenue hadn’t turned out to be-- well, entirely different.

This place is a far cry from a dismal prison. There’s no choking vines; instead the room is awash in green, plants creeping out of pots or suspended from the ceiling above, every single one fresh and healthy. The girl’s never been outside, oh no, but it seems she found a way for the outside to be brought to her.

And that’s not even talking about this furniture. Someone could have swiped it all straight from some queen’s boudoir it’s so fancy, all dark carved woods with enamel inlays. She might be a prisoner, but this girl hasn’t suffered from lack.

“Take your time.” One finger plucks at the contraption on her table, something with steel balls hung from wooden dowels. He lets go of one, and it hits the other with a clack-clack, sending the last flying, and--

All right, he’s getting distracted. Leave him to underestimate the sort of clutter a girl could accumulate when she’s kept by a king.

“After all,” he mutters, “it’s not like we could be interrupted by your royal jailer--”

“He’s not my jailer.” The words come out, whip fast. “King Shenezard has kept me safe since I was a baby, and not once has he ever treated me poorly.”

Bold words, coming from a girl walled up in a tower. “Right, and that’s why you’re so eager to get rescued. Makes sense.”

There’s no impassioned protest to that, just an uneasy silence that settles in the air, setting him on edge. She’s second guessing all this; he can tell by her harsh rasp of breath, by the way she kneels, unmoving, in front of the wardrobe.

Well, that won’t do at all. He’s got a reputation to maintain.

“Hey,” he ventures, leaning just enough to peep around the door. “What’s taking so--”

For a solid minute, Obi forgets how to talk.

It’s a king’s ransom in there; gowns made velvet and brocade, kirtles of silk and paper-thin cotton, every bit laced and bejeweled with the sort of embroidery it takes a host of skilled seamstresses months to make. He could make a killing just selling one of those dresses, let alone a closet full. He’d have enough guilders to retire to a nice little island and sleep on a giant pile of money.

“Sorry!” she pipes, finally rolling back into action. “I have all I need from my plants, I just have to get clothes. Can’t walk around naked, after all!”

He just bites back, why not? Not the right crowd for that kind of talk. Not with Sir Stick-Up-His-Ass waiting for them back in the bushes.

Instead, he sits back. Her bag sits open at her feet, already almost full to the brim, and he can’t help but laugh thinking how she might fit those walking rob me signs into it, but--

But she doesn’t touch them. Instead, she reaches into the drawers beneath, pulling out humble muslin dresses, rolled with delicate care. One after another she compresses them tight, careful to stuff them over and around her samples. Soil smears on more than a few, but she pays it no mind, almost as if--

As if she did not care for them at all. As if all they were good for was to cushion her more precious treasures, sealed away in their paper envelopes.

“If you’re not going to take those,” he starts, left-footed and awkward, no longer sure how to speak to someone who doesn’t even know what fortune she’s sleeping on, “then I’ll take my finder’s fee in cl--”

Her skirt moves, skipping up over her ankles as she settles back on her heels, and--

And she’s not wearing shoes. Where he’d grown up, that would hardly raise a brow, and it’s not like this young miss has ever gone out to feel the grass under her feet but--

All these riches, and she’s barefoot, like some beggar girl. Even at a glance he can tell: there’s not a slipper’s toe to be found in that wardrobe, nor a boot’s lace. No point to keeping a girl in a tower if she could just walk away.

His stomach churns, his jaw clamping down before a single thought could slip from between his teeth. It’s not his business. The job is not for him to pity this girl. Besides, His Handsome Highness will see to it that she has more footwear than feet the moment she steps inside his castle.

At least, Obi hopes.

He settles back against her desk, the plants pricking at his coat. This isn’t his problem. He’s supposed to get her to her prince and go. Not--

“Aaagh?” squawks a little monster, squatting right by his elbow.

It’s been years since any man or beast has gotten the jump on him, but one look at this little hellion and Obi leaps sky high, scrambling to get back. He may even say some choice four-letter words.

The young miss peeks around the wardrobe, every inch of her frown steeped in disapproval. “Don’t yell at Ryuu! He’s very shy.”

Funny, it hadn’t felt very shy when it tried to put one of those funky little three-toed hands on him. Still, she’s looking pretty cross, and the little guy has turned terracotta, trying to hide behind one of her pots. “Ah, sorry.”

Her frown deepens. “Don’t tell me, tell Ryuu.”

Obi stares down at the beady-eyed thing. Right. Apologize the to hellbeast. That tracks. “Sorry, Ryuu.”

That pleases her, at least. She sweeps over to them, cradling the strange thing in her hands. It croaks when she brings it up to her shoulder, settling right by her neck.

“Ryuu understands,” she assures him, quite serious. “He surprised you.”

And it’s an unearthly creature that probably drinks blood or eats human flesh, but sure, Obi can go with that.

“He’s still very shy.” The young miss fixes him with a stern look, fists on her hips. “I don’t think he’ll be comfortable with you for a while.”

“That’s...” Fine by him. “...too bad.”

“Don’t take it personally.” She reaches at a finger, rubbing at the ridge between its bulbous eyes. “It took him forever to venture out of the plants and say hello! I’m sure he’ll like you once he gets to know you.”

That is generally not how the trajectory of his acquaintance goes, but thankfully he won’t be around long enough for her to know that. “Are you ready to go?”

She blinks, peering down at her bag as if she forgot she even held it. “Oh! Yes! Are you?”

He grins, enjoying the way her lips curve in reply. “Born ready. Now we just need some rope.”

Her brow furrows. “Rope? Can’t we do what you did on the way up?”

Obi shakes his head. “I can do that by myself, but with you...” He stares pointedly at the braid wrapped around both her feet and half the room. “You’re a bit of a heavy load for free climbing.”

Her mouth rumples thoughtfully. “I don’t have any rope.”

Right. That would go hand-in-hand with the whole no shoes thing. No point in locking a girl in a tower if she can just leave any time she wants. “How’d His Highness even--?”

His teeth snap shut over that question. He already knows the answer; he’s been trying his damnedest not to step on it since he got up here.

“Hm.” A light sparks in those eyes of hers, lips curling into a smile that fills him with an immediate, visceral bad feeling. “I have an idea.”

“Miss--”

“Can I borrow your knife?”

There are a host of appropriate answers to that question: no, hell no, absolutely not, are you crazy?

Too bad he picks none of them.

Her laugh is sweet when the blade pops from it’s handle, pleasantly surprised. That’s what paralyzes him; this small girl and her bubbling laugh, holding a knife that left red on the rag the last time he cleaned it. There’s no other reason for him stay still, not when she lifts it so close to her neck and slices.

Red pours over the blade now, slipping like silk down its sharp edge but--

“Oh,” she hums, displeased. “I thought this would be much easier.”

He blinks, staring at the severed braid. Or rather, a quarter of it; even with such a sharp edge, nothing could cut all the way through that in one go.

“You’ve got a lot of it,” he remarks helpfully. “Only makes sense you’d need a couple whacks.”

Miss’s mouth bows into a frown. “It sounds so much easier in stories.”

She raises the knife again, and this time her hair parts easily beneath the blade, sliding from her like a snake’s skin, making her a new creature entirely.

An even cuter one, unfortunately.

“Wow,” she murmurs, staring at the endless coil of plait at her feet. “My head...doesn’t hurt anymore.”

His jaw snaps shut, and he swallows, trying to bring back some wetness in his mouth. “I don’t see how that’s helping us get out.”

“Hm? Oh.” Her smile parts, rucking into a mischievous grin. “That.”

She heaves the braid into her arms and marches to the window, dropping in unceremoniously onto the sill.

“There,” she says, and with no fanfare at all, drives his knife through it.

Obi has lived an exciting life. He’s done several very intriguing things with some very improper ladies in his time, sometimes in some very dangerous places, and yet--

It all pales to the smack of desire that hits as he watches her arm arc down, catching the braid square in the middle of the plait. Not a single woman on her knees can satisfy him the way her eyes do in that moment; not a single pair of pouty lips have ever enticed him as much as her smile.

A terrible thing to realize, when her princely suitor is keeping her throne warm for her.

The young miss straightens, proudly surveying her work. “That’s as good as any rope.”

Obi saunters over, giving it a good tug. “Nice and sturdy. Well done.”

She beams at him, so bright it puts the sun to shame, and--

And he needs to get going. Now. With or without her. Before any of this gets worse.

“All right then, Miss.” He hops onto the sill, back toward her, wrapping the plait tight around his palm. It’s silky, softer than rope, pleasant against his skin.

She hesitates. “Erm?”

“I’ll see you down safe.” He tosses her a grin over his shoulder. “Just grab on.”

“This really isn’t what I meant,” Obi grunts, adjusting a pale arm so it’s less against his throat. “You don’t need to hold so tight, Miss.”

“It’s a long way down,” she mentions conversationally, gasping as his grip slips along the rope, dropping them down another few inches. “I think I need to hold on as tight as I can.”

“Yes, but if you choke me, then I’ll pass out, and we all fall to our deaths.” He grits his teeth as a tiny hellbeast tongue darts out against his cheek. “You said these things don’t drink blood, right?”

“Ryuu would never!” That’s not the question he asked, but she plows on, “He wouldn’t hurt a fly if he didn’t have to eat them!”

“Great,” he mutters. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

It’s a relief when he finally stretches out a toe and feel sweet, sweet solid ground beneath it.

“Here we are,” he huffs, dropping down to the flat of his feet. The young miss tightens her grip, arms nearly choking him as her thighs hug his hips and-- well, his head is getting all sorts of mixed reactions from that combination. “The great wide world.”

Her hand eases from his shoulders, dangling over his chest, and she hesitates, pressing her weight into his back.

“Didn’t you hear me?” He turns his head, brushing cheeks. “You’re free.”

He doesn’t expect the fear he sees there, the reluctance. She stares at the ground, the white nearly all around her eyes, her fingers trembling where they grip his shoulder.

“Oh,” she breathes, gathering herself. “Just-- just give me a moment.”

“Take your time, Miss.” The words come out too soft, too-- too much. He lets a grin slant his lips, and he ventures, “I’m getting real used to having your legs wrapped around--”

“Oh!” She drops off him with a gasp, cheeks pink, taking a few flailing steps away from him. “I didn’t mean-- ohhh.”

Her toes curl experimentally in the grass, and she looks up at him, smile too wide, too bright. “It tickles!”

He need to-- to be doing anything else right now, anything at all that isn’t staring dumbly at her, risking more-- more tender feelings. His Highness might be paying him a mint for this job, but things like that are still a luxury a man like him can’t afford.

“Hey.” He jerks a thumb back toward the tower. “You want the hair?”

Her gaze sweeps back at it, and her face sets, hard, determined. “No. If Raj likes it so much, he’s welcome to it.”

Another donkey kick of heat flashes through him, and oh, this job can not end fast enough.

“Shirayuki!” Tall, dark, and dutiful bursts from the brush, stampeding over to sweep the girl into a hug tight enough to kill an elephant.

“Mitsuhide,” she gasps, patting him hard on the back. “It’s so good to see you.”

Mister sets her down, hands eclipsing her small shoulders. “Are you all right? Did you get hurt? Shall I offer you assist--”

“I’m fine!” she assures him with a laugh. “Obi took good care of me.”

The knight straightens, mouth thinning as he remembers that Obi exists, that he’s standing right there probably thinking unlawful thoughts, or whatever paragons of virtue worry about. “Ah. Right. Obi. Of course.”

Begrudgingly, as if every word was a thorn dug into his side, he adds, “Thank you.”

It’s a sentiment immediately belied by the way he draws the shackles from his pouch, holding them out with an air of impatience that rankles.

“Aw, come on, Mister,” he wheedles, shuffling a step back, “haven’t I earned my freedom?”

The man stares, as imposing as a cliff face. “How.”

Obi bats his eyelashes, attempting his most winsome expression. “Good behavior?”

He hesitates. “Shirayuki, did he say anything untoward to you while you were alone in the tower?”

Wuh-oh.

“No!” The young miss draws herself up to her full height, a good foot shorter than her knightly companion. “Obi was a perfect gentleman.”

He nods, reluctantly removing the shackles from the conversation, stuffing them in--

“Well.” The girl taps a finger to her chin. “I don’t think so.”

To his everlasting horror, she adds, “What does--” she repeats some choice four-letter words-- “mean?”

Sir stares. The shackles jingle.

Obi holds out his hands with a sigh. “Yeah, all right. I deserve this.”

The knight sighs, iron closing with a clank around his wrists. “Let’s go, reprobate.”

#obiyukibingo2020 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #rapunzel au #tangled au #ah yes another au destined to only be filled in patchwork style #i now have finally had to make this an official collection on AO3 #instead of leaving it spread around the two collections i did before #DEEP SIGH #dear AO3 please let us migrate chapter into a new fic #my ass needs it

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sentient-stove · 3 years

Text

Midsummer’s Song

Fandoms: Sanders Sides

Characters: Roman, Logan, Remus, Janus, Virgil, Patton

Relationships: Logan & Roman & Remus, Virgil/Roman, Virgil & Janus, Remus & Janus, Patton & Virgil

Additional Tags: Fae Au, seelie and unseelie, NB Virgil, NB Janus, Changeling!Logan, Unseelie!Janus, Seelie!Virgil, slightly U!Janus

Summary: Roman knows of the fae. His mother leaves out cream for them in exchange for protection and his brother Logan is a changeling. What happens when he makes a deal in exchange for Remus back?

Word count: 2023

Notes: I actually wrote this in a sort of ‘choose the next plot point’ on my discord with the help of @ohlookanotherdumbfanboy and @astrozones Anyway, enjoy!

AO3

Do you believe the fae walk among us?

Little Roman listens with wide eyes as his mama pours cream into a bowl, her singing softly filling the air as she sets the bowl out on the window sill, mixing it with a tiny bit of nutmeg before turning to her son.

“Come Little Prince, it’s long past your bedtime.” She scoops him into her arms, still singing as she carries him upstairs.

“Mama, I wanna see the fairy pleases?”

“Not tonight. They come when they please, and it does us mortals well to not look.”

Roman begrudgingly lets her tuck him in.

But when she’s out of the room, he throws off his covers and goes to the window. Roman watches for a long time, but the shadows never melt to show a Faery and after a few hours, he falls asleep with his fists pressed against the glass.

In the morning, the cream is gone, replaced by a shimmery pendant on a silver chain.

His mother says that they’ve been blessed by an Unseelie as she puts it on her son.

Roman isn’t so sure.

…

Roman is ten when his mother comes home with a boy made of fae blood and human flesh.

A changeling, abandoned when his family discovered that he was not one of them. Logan holds himself differently than Roman and he wears a wood and resin amulet that makes it so he can touch things that fae normally couldn’t.

“This is your brother now.”

Roman doesn’t fight with her, he instead grabs Logan by the hand the way that only children do and he asks him if he’s ever seen one.

“Of course I haven’t. I’ve been with mortals for as long as I can remember.” Logan is usually solemn for a ten year old, but Roman shrugs it off and drags him outside to look at the pixie garden that he’s been building.

…

Roman is fifteen when the Unseelie attempts to take him. It’s almost midnight and he was camping in the backyard with Logan and Mama. They were both sound asleep, but Roman got up and snuck out of the tent, standing just inside the salt ring that surrounds the small canvas tent.

“Hello child.”

Roman turns to see the Fae, who has golden eyes and scales down one side of his face.

They’re breathtaking.

And devastatingly beautiful. Roman feels his breath catch as he bows.

“Tell me your name, child.” The Fae’s eyes flash as Roman watches.

“My Mama told me that I should never give a Faery my name.”

“Very well. But you do have a something I can call you, no?”

Roman nods, throat dry. “You may call me Prince.”

“Hmmm, your mother calls you that sometimes, doesn’t she? She leaves out the sweetest offerings… Are you tonight's snack?” The fae bares fangs and Roman takes a delicate step back.

“No, it’s on the window sill.”

“Hmm, come with me?”

“No thank you.”

The fae laughed. “Clever Prince! I suppose I should leave you a gift?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” Roman shifted back and forth on his feet as the fae pulled off a glove and scooped up some of the salt from the ring.

“Here’s my gift child. Salt only works on the Seelie.”

And with that, they were gone, leaving Roman to stand alone in shock as the wind whispered in laughter at him.

Needless to say, he didn’t get that much sleep once he crawled into the tent.

…

It’s summer when the singing lures him outside of the house, despite Logan hearing it too and telling him that he should most certainly NOT go and try to find who is the cause of the sound. He packs his bag with salt and iron, knowing that as dangerous as the Unseelie are during the winter, the Seelie are almost worse during the summer.

Roman did not realize that it was in fact, Midsummer’s.

He followed the song into the woods, walking carefully as he delved into the growing shadows. It was warm, almost too warm as he avoided a fae circle and the song grew the tiniest bit louder.

It was smooth, the song, and Roman can barely keep himself from staying out of a thall as he enters a clearing where he can see footprints in the grass, it’s obvious that there was a revel at somepoint here.

Now it is empty, for the sole exception if a boy Roman’s age, singing as Roman comes closer.

The song stops and the boy looks up at Roman. “Hello mortal.”

Roman freezes. “Faery.”

“You sound surprised.” The fae stands in a fluid motion, walking over to Roman and running a hand along Roman’s jaw. “You’re pretty.”

“Thank you?” Roman reaches for the salt in his pocket, but the fae beats him to it, wrapping a cool hand around his wrist.

“What’s your name?”

“You may call me Prince.” Roman swallows as the fae looks up at him with bright purple and blue eyes, amusement sparking across his lips.

“Clever mortal. You may call me V.”

Roman nods and the fae stands on their tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. The kiss burns and he feels slightly dizzy as magic sparks across his skin.

“Wow.”

“You came to make a deal? All mortals do.” The fae backs up, and Roman feels like the air has cooled a thousand degrees.

“I just followed the song.”

“The song attracts fools who need deals. What is yours my Prince?”

Roman blinked. “I had a brother once.”

“Hmmm, Remus, I know him well.” The fae smirks and twirls in a circle before sitting down. “You should sit Princey.”

Roman sat.

“Now, do you want your brother back? I do believe the Snake has him currently, he does like the Unseelie during the summer, my kind can be a bit… overwhelming.” V picks some grass from the ground and begins to weave it together as Roman processes the information.

“He’s alive?”

“As alive as that silly changeling you also call a brother. Now, a deal so you can see him?” “What do you want?” “How much are you willing to lose?”

The question hangs heavy in the air as Roman removes the pendant that he was gifted almost ten years ago. He’s worn it every day since the fae that his mother had given cream to had left it there and V’s eyes widen when they see the thing.

“This.”

V reaches for it, pauses and looks at Roman. “What do you want?”

“My brother.”

V stares and then they’re kissing Roman, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck as the fae makes and seals the deal. They taste of honey and magic, something dark and bitter, and Roman feels breathless when they part.

“You have him until the Autumn Equinox.”

“What?” Roman mumbled, still feeling dazed as the fae pushes them further apart.

“Go.” The fae commanded and Roman could see the tiniest bit of panic on their face as he stood and ran back to his home.

…

“Ro?”

“Remus!”

…

Logan can feel the Winter that is coming.

He knows that Roman is about to lose his biological brother.

So after Mama puts out the cream and chases her three sons to bed, he waits outside once he is sure she is gone, until the fae that Roman made a deal with melts out of the shadows.

“Salutations.”

The fae tilts their head. “Hello changeling.”

“I wish to make a deal.”

The fae, with their bright purple and blue eyes, smiles nervously. “Many fail.”

“I wish to give you my name in exchange for Remus’ freedom.” Logan squares his shoulders and the fae pauses.

“Selflessness is unbecoming Logan.”

Logan looked away. “How do you know my name?”

“The Snake was the one to give it to you, and they are my older sibling.” The fae shrugs and takes the cream from the window sill, drinking it quickly. “But we do not deal with changelings. If there was to be a deal for Remus’ freedom, it would have to be made with Princey. Farewell.”

Logan would never admit that he cried.

…

Roman was waiting next to Remus as the shadows lengthened as the Snake and V melted out of them.

“Prince.” V looked mournful and Roman held back a snarl. Remus was practically shaking from next to him and he knew how much his brother hated the fae.

“Remus, come here.” The Snake held out a gloved hand and Remus took an unwilling step forward.

“Stop. I’m here to make a deal.”

The Snake held up their hand., stopping Remus in his tracks. “Oh?”

“My name for his freedom.” Roman said solemnly.

The Snake gave a sharp smile. “Accepted.”

Remus gave Roman a panicked look. “Can I talk to him privately before you seal it?” V nodded.

Remus pulled Roman out of earshot and pulled his brother into a hug. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know.”

“Stay with V. They’re your best chance at lasting longer than a few days.”

The brothers broke apart and Roman gently punched Remus. “Keep Lo safe while I’m gone, okay?” “Okay.”

Roman turned and walked up to V. “My deal is with you.”

V’s eyes widened and they gently placed a hand on Roman’s face. “I release Remus in exchange for your name.”

Roman sighed as he felt the magic wind itself around his lungs and heart. “My name is Roman.”

V kissed him, and again Roman tasted honey and bitterness.

“Come.”

The last thing Roman saw before the shadows covered his eyes was Remus, turning his face as he couldn’t bear to watch his brother get taken.

…

The Snake was the worst. Luckily Roman only spent a few days with him before V took him to meet the Seelie King.

The Seelie King liked puns. Mostly because they were as close as a fae could get to lying. Roman didn’t blame him for that.

Autumn melted into Winter, which changed into Spring, all while he was the pet of the fae. V never treated him like an animal, but the fear was always there.

Until one night, when Roman got drunk off of elderberry wine and he kissed V again.

“I love you.”

“You jest.”

“Hmmm. Maybe. But I wouldn’t’ve drank if I knew that you didn’t care for me.” Roman hiccuped and kissed V again, tangling his hands in the fae’s hair as they fell to the soft ground.

“Please Ro, you’re drunk.” V’s face was flush with embarrassment as they pulled back from the kiss.

“A man becomes honest when drunk. I should know.” Roman insisted, but the fae was pushing him away.

“I will not when you are inhibited. I am no snake.”

…

Summer comes.

Roman listens while V sings, trying to attract unwary mortals to the ring to make deals.

The fae is one of the rare ones that Roman has interacted with in his eight months of being owned, how his deals are always straightforward, how he doesn’t twist his words like the Snake and the King do.

“Why aren’t you like them?”

V stops their singing. “Like who mortal?” “Like… you know.”

“I am younger and more burned by the actions of mortals. Sue me.”

“Hmm.”

…

“Virgil.” V says one day as they pull away from Roman’s kiss, pupils blown wide from the rush.

“Virgil?” “My name. Do with it what you must. You can leave if you want, you haven’t consumed fae cursed food, you can leave and break the deal.”

Roman kisses the fae again. “I won’t.”

“Why?”

Roman opens his mouth to respond but then closes it. There’s a moment of silence.

“I don’t know. I might go visit, but I don’t have any desire to leave you…Virgil.”

Virgil looks as if they’ve been shocked and then they’re kissing Roman again, all passion and honey.

Roman will go back, to Logan and Remus, but that’s a problem for another day. Right now he kisses the Seelie with unsaid words, hoping that every emotion that he’s feeling is conveyed.

It probably is, considering fae consume emotion.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #slightly U!Janus #fae #fae au #creativtwins #princxiety

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