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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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Small thing with Yan Vampire Harem/ill-tempered Maid Reader

Working quietly, you make your way to the backdoor to enjoy your break in peace. Regardless of your supposed freedom during the time, you were often roped into spending it subjected to the care of your masters as thanks for all you've done. It'd be more welcomed had they not been doing plenty of that during your shift as well. You'd grown some semblance to it by now and would have mostly succumb to their begging had it not been for the guest waiting for you outside.

You ease the door open, but a foot jams it shut halfway. A smirk is pressed to your spine as hands creep to your waist; an all too familiar laugh ringing in your ear.

"Hm.. Good Afternoon to you too, dearest . And where might you have been going without telling your dear caretakers?"

You pull your shoulder from their barrage of kisses. "Outside."

The vampire huffs. "So crass. Why go outside when you can enjoy a nice meal with us all here? There's so much preparation to be done for us to join you out there. It's not fair."

"That's the point. Look, if you let me go out now, I'll think about sleeping in your coffin tonight."

The vampire chuckles. "Deal." They kiss your cheek, sneaking a lick before they slip back into the shadows of the room. You hurry outside before anyone else comes, pulling the door close as gently as possible.

The garden is quiet at this time of day, as it is during all hours till dusk. You and the other servents tend to them daily, but you are the only one who has access to it at all times. It's a combination of the rules being bent towards your favor, and their love for taking you out on a nightly stroll every once in a blue moon.

You stroll on by the fountain. By the rose bushes and bundles of blooming plant life in favor of a group of shrubs by the farther wall. Their leaves wilt and roots separate by past force, giving a clear look into the outside forest on most days. On this, a pair of golden eyes block your sight from the world you once knew.

"I told you not to come anymore, didn't I?" You tone is lax as you reach out and touch the snout of the beast. It rubs its nose against the pad of your hand with a small whine as verbal sign of its stubbornness. Ignoring its protesting sounds as you pull away, you dig around in your satchel until your hand fall on a the smushed paper bag. You take the sandwich from its casing; a note pinned to the plastic around it.

"Have a good day! I hope it treats you well. Please come visit me well. Love you - A"

A took care of most of your meals. It was apparently their only talent and slightly more welcomed than the love letters and music pieces you received. You felt a little guilty for not remembering their name, but as far as you could recall no one here had one that started with it. Pushing the thought out of mind, you slip the note in your pocket; your companion growling in response.

"You don't have to rush me. Here." You hand the unwrapped meal to the animal who snaps it their jaws; your fingers christened by the wind beneath the force of its bite. You pet it as it eats, leaning against the stone wall. You came across the animal not even a month ago. Pruning the same bushes it hid beneath was how you found it. You offered it a spare tomato and the following day you heard its whimpers again. You never saw more than its luminous eyes and shaggy fur, but figured it to be some kind of canine. It shifts around beneath your touch; a gesture gone unnoticed as you heed to the cheerful calls from across the field.

"Y/n! There you are!"

Umbrellas overhead, two hooded figures march your way. Twins, those who never left each others side and tries always to be by yours. Others knew when to distance themselves, but these two were persistent. You remain still; expecting the animal to run off, but its still there.

The pair stop in front of you as the first speaks. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

You hold up the empty paper bag. "Eating."

"Let us know next time, we've been looking all over for you." The other speaks. "Honestly, I don't get what the big deal is about this place. It's far too bright and it smells like a mutt out here."

"A mutt? Now that you mentioned it- it doesn't, but worse. It's almost like a..."

"Get away from that thing."

The twins express various sounds of surpise as a voice speaks from other their shoulders. You're caught off guard as well, as you never see this one outside of rare visits. The Count stares past you and at the bush, clearly on edge. Neutral as ever, you remain in place.

"It's just a wolf and it's harmless. I've fed it for a while and nothing's happened."

"That's not a dog- Y/n, move-"

Before the warning could come, you're suddenly off the ground. Legs swinging in the air, you look down to see two thick limbs caged around you. The creature holds you to its furred chest; claws dangerously close to your neck as it smushes its cheek to yours. The werewolf lets out a soft whine as it licks your jaw.

As the twins scream, you can't help but feel a little gullible for not realizing this sooner. "Honestly should have expected this by now."

The rest of the afternoon is somewhat of a blur. Your masters attempt to get rid of the beast, but there's not much they could do with it carrying you around. It listens to you at some degree as you're able to get it to bring you inside the mansion, but refuses to let you go. They begrudgingly give you the night off until they could find a solution to your new pet.

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere werewolf #yandere vampire #yandere harem #yandere drabble

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laurasimonsdaughter · 1 year

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What if Disney adapted Katie Crackernuts?

I love Kate Crackernuts, so the urge to keep the whole fairy tale intact is very strong, but I think the plot is a little too multi-stage for a true Disney animation (especially since it partly resembles Tatterhood, which we’ve already given a Disney treatment), so lets put on some Renaissance Era (Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast etc.) Disney Goggles:

There will be no sister Anne, only Kate, who gets the full Snow White treatment and will be a beautiful princess with an Evil Stepmother who has wickedly enchanted her father into loving him. This isn’t Snow White’s era anymore though, so Kate will be outspoken and stands up to the queen. We see her horseback riding, being kind to people, and being lively and smart.

The nuts need to be more of a reoccurring motif in the story, so Disney will take inspiration from Grimm’s Snow White and The Juniper Tree and show that Kate’s kind mother was buried by a hazelnut tree, under which her daughter finds solace.

Of course the Evil Stepmother is a witch, and she curses Kate, who becomes unrecognizable to everyone who cares for her. Of course we the audience can see she is still our beloved princess, but her own father banishes her when he finds a strange, disheveled girl in his daughter’s bed.

She flees, only stopping at her mother’s hazelnut tree before she goes, roaming around until she passes through a kingdom and happens to see the king, who reminds her of her own father and who looks so sad that when she finds out this is because his only son is dying of an unknown illness, she goes to the palace to find out what is going on. She offers to sit up with the ailing prince.

The prince is very handsome and very vulnerable (think Prince Eric about to drown). Kate sits near his bed, cracking hazelnuts from her apron pockets, and the prince will say something about how no one ever dares to sit up with him. Kate says she will not leave him. She watches him sleep until the clock strikes twelve and the prince suddenly rises, dresses and slips out of the room (looking entranced like Aurora under influence of the spindle).

Kate follows him unseen to the stable and when he takes a horse she takes one too (she does not jump on his horse) and she chases him all the way through a dark wood to a dark, grassy mound.

The three nights will be condensed into one, and to keep the rule of threes there will be inspiration from The 12 Dancing Princesses: the prince will dismount and pass into the hill, over a bridge and through a gate, each time saying “let through the prince, where none will find him”. But each time there will be a hazel tree for Kate to pluck a golden nut from and she will add: “and let through his lady behind him”.

This way they arrive in an underground fairy realm, but the fairies can’t be too pretty nor too demonic, so they’ll probably look impish and a bit grotesque, or very much like whirling spirits. They will dance with the prince and probably sing ominously about dancing yourself to death as you waste away.

The plot with the fairy baby is a bit...odd? It’s adorable, but lacks narrative weight. So Kate will find out that the prince will surely die unless the enchantment on him is broken. But that this will never happen because no one would dare to crack a golden fairy nut to feed it to another.

The poor prince looks very bad when they return at sunrise, despite the glamour over him he nearly falls off his horse, and Kate has to take the reigns of his horse as well as hers to lead them safely back to the castle. The prince still doesn’t notice a thing, he returns to his bed, but when he wakes without the glamour in his eyes, he will see Kate still cracking nuts. She’ll ask him if he wants one. He’ll say no. She’ll show him a golden nut. He’ll protest against cracking it. She’ll crack it anyway and he will be healed, suddenly remembering how he was enchanted and how she bravely followed him.

He will ask her how he can repay her. She will give him a nut and ask it to crack it for her. He does. The enchantment on her is broken and he will have a startled moment where he first sees her as a beautiful princess and ask her if this is still the sweet Kate Crackernuts who followed him into the fairy hill.

They will go to his father, who weeps for joy. The prince will ask if he can marry Kate, the king says he will gladly allow it if Kate wants it too. Kate says she needs to go see her father first.

They go to Kate’s kingdom, the Evil Queen is horrified to see the enchantment was broken on Kate, but she still has the King under a spell. There is a terrible confrontation, and then Kate cracks the third golden nut for her father and he is freed too.

The witch flees, possibly chased, possibly dies. Kate marries her prince. There’s a sweet wedding with music. The end.

Darn, I forgot her animal companion. Ehm….squirrel, big eyes, also likes hazelnuts, runs amok among the fairies for comic relief, there we go.

#disney goggles #kate crackernuts #laura tumbles #anon

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

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Tell Me A Story

Loki x f(magic reader)

Summary: Stuck in an Asgardian cell for your crimes, you meet an intriguing fellow prisoner who you can’t help but start to feel something for.

Warning: angst, fluff (you’re not leaving sad on my watch)

Masterlist

The ground feels hard. And your head feels incredibly fuzzy, like waking up from a deep slumber by some rude acquaintance who can’t mind their own damn business. Not to mention the throbbing sensation emitting from the left side of your cheek like two annoying disturbances. Were you smacked twice?

What in the bloody shitsticks?

The light in this place is so bright too, you have to squint when opening your irises for the first time to really get a good look at your surroundings. With the light in this awful place too much to bear, you cover your eyes with your fingers to lessen the harshness from above. Soon your gaze trails up witnessed a clean ceiling of pure marble white.

Wait. Are you dead?

Adjusting to the brightness, you slowly bring yourself into a seated position on the equally as shiny clean floor. To your left is a bed and a small nightstand while your right is a see through golden tinged barrier showing the other cells and a single guard walking down the hallway. Cells? Cells!

A prison? You’re in a fucking prison. Shit.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, head in your hands, you suddenly hear a knock on the white section of the confinement hold that turns into loud pounding. Thud! Thud! Thud! And a second later the white disappears, in place shows the same see through golden tinge. A guard on the other side.

“You’re awake.” He says, voice casual as an old friend.

You give him a puzzled look before feeling your face, “I think so.”

He takes a step into your prison where a sword is held in your face, maybe not so much an old friend after all, “As protocol, I must ask you three questions.” Delves the guard, stance never changing.

“Go for it tough guy.”

He remains unfazed, “Do you know your name?” Easy.

“Y/N.”

“Do you know why you’re here?” Uh.

“Well it wasn’t for stealing a child’s favorite toy.” You muse before quickly changing your façade, “But yes.”

He scoffs unamused, “Do you know where you are?”

Now this question you don’t have an answer for so instead do you give him your sweetest most innocent face possible, “uh, maybe you could enlighten me?”

The armored man rolls his dark eyes, “You’re in the royal dungeons of Asgard, placed here by King Odin for crimes against our realm. For that. You will remain until otherwise noted by the King.” Barks the guard, you stare up at him with wide eyes. Shocked and bewildered that you’re stuck in Asgard of all places.

“I didn’t even have a fare trial!” You protest.

“You didn’t deserve one, filth.” He counters before sheathing his sword back into its scabbard and off he goes into the golden tinged door. Out of sight in an instant. Rude.

Leaving yourself very puzzled and irritated at the whole ordeal, you never even got a trial to speak your side of the story. Nothing. Now you’re stuck in this dumb shit of a cell with literally nothing to do and no one around to bother, oh wait who’s that across the room?

Jumping to your feet, you swiftly walk over to the glass; there stands a man in green and black attire, leather bound book in hand as his slender face focuses onto the pages. He’s rather handsome in all honesty, with that dark shoulder length hair of his and the thoughtful expression across his face. You’re now fully intrigued.

Then your mind swirls with a thought, you’re in Asgard. So, this must be prince Loki, the one who failed to conquer Midgard. Soon a devilish smirk crosses your features, “What are you doing down here? I thought princes were the ones to put delinquents behind bars?”

Loki’s face shifts from surprise to amusement as he keeps his eyes onto the pages, “Kings.” Corrects the Asgardian prince.

You smile, “Well this king can eat shit!”

He lets out a breathy snort before finally drawing his gaze up to you, his expression quickly diminishes from amusement into star struck fascination when those beautiful blues land upon your beaming mischievous face. Loki has never seen someone so magnificently enticing in his whole entire life. But here you are, whoever you happen to be.

The raven haired man sets the book onto his nightstand before sauntering over to the glass wall, “And who do I presume you are? My new source of entertainment.”

Waving him off like a blushing maiden, you pretend to get all hot and bothered by his sly comment, “Oh wouldn’t you like to know.”

Loki smirks, “I would indeed.”

You curl a piece of hair around your finger, gifting him a shy smile as you avoid his steely gaze. “Sorry.” You mutter, “I only tell men who can take over whole planets in under three days.”

He immediately loses his humored aurora, replacing it with a slightly taken aback yet somewhat pissed off one. “Ouch. But I can’t image you’re any clever if you happen to be stuck down here with me.”

You point up a finger, “On the contraire, my faults are less hefty then your own. So who really lost here?”

“From the looks of it. Both of us.”

You nod, “That is a truthful observation, but what has gifted us a sentence in exile are two entirely different sides to the relatively same coin.”

“Mine being, failure to conquer and rule Midgard. And yours being?”

“Fine. I’ll satiate your appetite.” He raises a brow as you trail your hand down the buzzing glass, “I may have tried to steal some pretty gems downstairs. Blah blah and I got caught by some lady named Frigga who’s a lot more skilled with magic then I had first realized and now I’m here. Granted I don’t remember getting to said “here” but alas my body remains.”

Loki smirks, “My deer mother got the best of you. How is she up in the real world these days?”

“Oh you know, told me she loves reading, doing the usual witchy stuff, and she hates you so go burn in hell for eternity you shit head little boy.”

Loki could have choked on his own spit, “Pardon me?”

“You heard me, she said she loves you. Is that not what you heard? I really thought I was being pretty clear.”

The Asgardian prince shakes his head, “Forget I asked.” Turning around once again to find his way onto the comfortable looking mattress, new book in hand.

You pout at the lack of attention, what did you say to annoy him? Was it the little shit head boy? Maybe he’s just having a bad day.

——

There he is. That incredibly attractive Asgardian prince of Mischief, just standing there. Reading yet another book in his beautiful greens and blacks and golds as he chooses to ignore you. The insanely gorgeous but deeply irritating woman across the cell from him.

You’ve been in here for about four weeks now and Loki has not cracked once. You’re really trying too! All he’s done is gift you with some telling facial expressions or the wonderful side comment to address your theatrics or harmless shenanigans.

All you want to do is get to know him better. And maybe along the way get the fuck out of here with a little help, and then preferably take the prince along for the ride. If it was only that easy.

Levitating in your cell just because you’re tired of standing all the time, you keep your usual unabashed stare-down with the prince when a random guard marches by. He looks from right to left and forward again before doing a double take over to you.

“Hey! Stop that!” He shouts, lance raised at your smirking face while you continue to float, “You can’t do that here!”

You simply roll your eyes, “Who has made this new rule law?”

The guard pauses for a moment, clearly indicating that he just doesn’t want you floating because he’s a party pooper. He swallows, “By king Odin.”

“By king Odin? Doesn’t his son fly?”

“Huh?” He glances over to Loki who’s not paying attention to you two in the slightest.

“Not that one.”

The guard makes a frustrated grunt before removing his lance away from your face, no matter the safety of the glass, “You can remain afloat but only under my authority.” And with that does he stomp off down the corridor.

Idiot.

You beam a victorious grin as he leaves your sight when a sudden slow clapping can be heard from across the hallway. Immediately do you snap your attention up to the prince who’s already sharing one of his infamous smirks, “Congratulations. You’ll now have an enemy down here. And it only took you a few weeks.”

You scoff, moving yourself to float casually on your back, “It’s about time too. Things were starting to get unbearably dull around here.”

Loki hums, “Ever try reading?”

You snort, “No, no I haven’t. Hmm, but I’d love it if you could read to me, since I don’t happen to have any books within reach. It’s only fair.”

Loki raises a brow, “Only fair?”

“Yes. I have the guards annoyed with me, so, they won’t care much about you. And. You get to read, but also to me as well.”

“That’s a possibly compelling suggestion.” Says the prince, mulling over your words.

“I thought so.”

You close your eyes as a couple moments pass before he speaks again, “But I must decline.”

“What!” You shout in bewilderment as he lowly chuckles, “I might just about die of boredom, you want me on your conscience when I pass into oblivion from lack of entertainment!”

Loki smiles at your adorable face, “Make your own fun.” He teases, though you don’t realize this.

Moving yourself into a standing position, yet still without touching the ground, you press your hands against the golden tinged glass, “Loki! You are a beautifully great annoyance and if I wasn’t stuck in here I would throw all your books about! And then….then I’d knock down your nightstand!”

He smirks, “Charming.”

You pout while your fists clench in irritation, “Fine! I didn’t want to listen to your loathsome voice anyways!” He gifts you with a proud half grin as you turn from him to magically throw your wooden nightstand across the room.

You land, reaching a hand out to launch the nightstand back across the room once more before repeating this action again and again until the whole flimsy thing combusts when it crashes violently into the closest wall.

Breathing heavily, you slowly turn to face the irritation watching you do all of this, “Feel better Y/N.”

Pursing your lips together, you release your tight fists, “Yes.”

He nods, “What would you like me to read?”

“Something joyful…….please.”

Loki shares a handsome grin before giving you a respectfully small bow, “As the lady wishes.” Loki shares a small glance with your curious face before turning to search for a book. He kneels down and soon picks out a book colored in a deep blue, something foreign written in golden cursive on the front.

You slowly return to the ground, this time seated criss crossed as you lean half of yourself upon the glass as you try and get as close to Loki as physically possible. Which is difficult considering the hallway’s short distance keeping your cells apart, but you try anyways. He opens up the book and quickly looks up to catch your gaze before smiling and looking down at the first page.

Loki reveals the smallest blush before clearing his throat, “The Fox and the Raven.” You smirk at his adorable face, how focused and deep in thoughtful concentration he becomes as the words flow off of his sly tongue like molten gold. You could listen to him all day.

“Once there were two beings, equal in skill and game. Best friends since childhood even, but there was one thing that drove a wedge in their long relationship. Another. This beautiful being was beyond compare to that of any god or goddess alike. And the two friends where undoubtedly in love with them.

It began one windy day by the river, the beauty stood, washing their hair by the waters edge with not a mind to mess with anyone in their head. The two friends saw them and smiled. “I shall win their affections.” Claimed the dark haired admirer, Tala. “Not you silly fox, I shall be the one to draw their heart to mine.” Spoke Essek with great confidence, his bestfriend in the whole entire realm.

They looked to each other with clear frustration sculpted into their faces, so, the friends came to an agreement. Whoever failed to win over the water nymphs heart, that friend must stay in their animal form forever while the victorious one could live on as they always have. Maybe it was cruel. Maybe not at first.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months as the two friends would speak with the water nymph as often as they could. Tala in raven form and Essek as a dashing fox. All was going well as they played their little game of love until the water nymph began to grow quit fond of the raven for his talents in the sky and witty personality.

So much so that on the next full moon, the raven revealed himself to his true form before making love to the joyful water nymph on the rivers edge. And so the very next day when the fox arrived to speak with the nymph, he was surprised to find Tala laying underneath a weeping willow with the nymph in his strong arms.

The fox recoiled with jealousy before his heart shattered in two, Tala smiled a triumphant grin as the fox turned away in disappointment before rushing off into the woodland. Never to be seen again.

So that is why you can never trust anyone who is truly dear to you, for love is a fleeting thing and can turn friends into beasts for something as silly and pathetic as a beacon of affection.” Finishes Loki in an almost sour tone as you sit there on the cell floor, feeling a bit off and out of place from that abrupt turn of events.

You frown, “I thought you were going to read me a happy story?”

Loki closes the book, “I did.” Blue eyes on you in an instant.

“No. You really didn’t.”

Loki gives you an almost dumbfounded look, “The raven got to keep his original form and make love to the water nymph what else is there to want?” He questions like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. Not.

“The fox is depressed now. That’s not very happy.”

“It was happy for those two, was it not?”

You roll your eyes, “It was. But a happy story should have a happy ending for everyone involved. That’s the point of a happy tale being told.” You counter as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Not everyone gets what they want in the end, Y/N. That’s just life, some are fine and persist while others turn and run with nothing of any significance still clinging to them.”

You sit there a moment in bewilderment, soon rising to float threateningly by the glass, “That’s ridiculous! A happy story should be fucking happy! Love is supposed to be kind and beautiful, not this wedge that turns people against one another and supports a game that shifts into jealousy and disdain for one.”

Loki hums, “Well it is just a story after all. Love does that because it isn’t truthful ever, it’s a fleeting thing without any weight that only causes pain and disappointment.”

Your brows soon furrow at these dark words, “Oh and what do you understand about love?” You hotly challenge, voice accusatory and fierce.

“That it isn’t real.” Mutters the prince with a casual shrug, though his face flashes with uncertainty.

You scoff, “Is it now? You think love is a simple lie? A trick from the universe to keep races existing until their worlds collapse?”

“Yes.” Nods the Asgardian, “That’s what I believe.”

You take a breath, feet slowly touching the cool tiled floor as you speak, “You have no idea what it feels like then. So how can you claim it to be false?”

Loki crosses his arms, “True love isn’t real because that just cannot be realistic in any sense Y/N. Same thing as feeling happy or when you sneeze….the feeling is a feeling like butterflies in your stomach when you get excited. But like every emotion given, it leaves and the feelings are dulled or just dissipate altogether.”

“You’re wrong.” You bitterly mutter, voice low and filled with a somber hurt.

“And how would I be wrong then?” He wonders, truly curious to see how on earth you are able to counter this. He doesn’t wholeheartedly believe in love, though his growing affections for you seem to have him conflicted. He still wants to know.

“It is like magic, to be in love.” You reply, a faint smile ghosting your lips as you press your hands against the glass, “It is bright and brilliant and beautiful. It does not come and go like a fleeting spark from a dying flame. Love, like magic, forms from within when let into someone’s vessel. It is a power that always remains no matter where the person travels, or how old they become. Love, in the end and always through existence will remain. No matter what.”

Loki could have shed a tear at your beautiful explanation, yet his stubbornness persists, “A fairytale. Nothing more.”

“A fairytale? A fucking fairytale!?” You shout, voice rising in fury, “You don’t know anything but the lies you tell yourself you heartless bastard! All I wanted was a happy story that made me smile before I’m executed! And you couldn’t even give me that you selfish prick of a man!”

Loki’s heart grows cold as a winters morning, he blinks, forgetting how to properly breath at your heated declarations. He steps closer to the thin glass, brows furrowed in puzzled apprehension, “You’re being executed?” He asks, tone low and thoughtful.

Face falling into a deep frown, you lower your head in shame, “I have been condemned to die for my crimes above. Guess they’re not so simple as I had first claimed.”

“What do you mean?”

You let out a telling sigh, “I didn’t try and take the queens jewels, I tried to murder her..”

“You what?!” Whispers the Asgardian prince, eyes wide in shock, “What do you mean?”

Your gaze keeps trained onto the floor, “I am…well, I was….an assassin. Who, ultimately could not force myself to murder your mother Frigga, so I let myself be caught and taken. It’s the least I deserve for the life I’ve led. This is just how it goes, and I’m ready.”

Loki’s mind races, he never even suspected such a thing coming from you. Sure you’re indeed a beautiful mystery of a person who enjoys levitating in her cell for the hell of it. But your appearance and pose never revealed someone capable of homicide as their profession, least of all you.

And now, his father is condemning you to death rightly so, but Loki can’t help but think you don’t truly deserve this fate. Maybe, just possibly, he’d feel like he was losing a close friend. Someone who he never had any intentions of developing these strange new feelings for.

“I won’t let him end your life.” Suddenly speaks the prince, “You didn’t kill her, you actively chose not to, so I believe he could sway his final decision.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “Wishful thinking.” Just as three guards dressed in their true Asgardian golds walk to the front of your cell. Loki swallows, they dissipate the golden tinged force field, leaving you with nothing but air to keep you from their clutches.

“Y/N.” Softly calls the dark haired prince, voice small and desperate, he didn’t think they would take you so soon but what does he truly know anymore? Your sad eyes lock onto his as one guard snaps metal cuffs against your wrists, and another around your throat before he ushers you out.

Loki can’t tear his eyes from yours the whole time, and even after you’ve been dragged down the hallway and out of sight. He thinks, maybe you’ll return and it was all a big misunderstanding, a simple nightmare and he’ll wake any second now. But he knows this is foolish thinking, you’re never coming back. And he’s beside himself.

Loki bows his head in silent anguish, fists clenched tight as his heartbeat begins to race when suddenly he releases his grip and a small blast of green magic emits in the aftermath. Just enough power to knock some books onto the floor in protest. He doesn’t pick them up.

In the following days, Loki would pace around his cell like a nervous lion. Reading book after book to help pass the time though he couldn’t stop his racing mind from thinking about you. Where were you now? What had they done to you? Did it hurt?

He didn’t know and what’s worse is the guards only seemed to mock him about it, claiming your life was worth more dead then anything else. It stung like a heated iron spear left too long in the hot coals, he missed you beyond compare. How did you make him feel this way? When did that happen?

He missed your mischievous smile, your alluring eyes of curiosity and concealed chaos. The way you spoke to him like a person and not just a prisoner, or even a prince who’s disappointed his whole kingdom. You didn’t care, sure you lived to tease and pester him relentlessly, but you didn’t truly care about his current status.

You drew the attention out of him without even needing to try, brought a smile upon his face weather he was aware of it or not, and made him feel genuinely excited about waking up the next day. You became everything to him and more, and Loki hadn’t even realized this until it was too late.

But now you’re gone. And he will never see another Y/N for as long as he is to live.

Loki sits with his back against the wall, hair undoubtedly a wild mess closely matching that of the room about him. Books, clothing, furniture, and other personal belongings lay around his cell like the aftermath of a furious hurricane. He didn’t mean for this to happen, but when he got word that his mother was injured in the attack by the dark elves and freed prisoners. He new it was his fault, he led them to freedom after all.

With his mother healing from her non fatal wounds, and the loss of his dear Y/N to the axe. Loki has been doing less then tremendous these past few weeks, clearly. The prince now closes his weary eyes, breathing steadily as a new presence makes itself known across the golden tinged glass. He doesn’t care to look.

“Well don’t you look sad.” Teases a familiar voice, not condescending but just enough to make him laugh if he felt like it.

He opens his eyes to find your smirking face, body safe and sound wrapped in a cloak of white and intricately laced gold. How absolutely beautiful you are. His brows furrow as he mutters, “You’re just an illusion.” Voice horse and filled with doubt.

You raise a brow, “So is this?” You ask in reference to the clean cut illusion Loki is controlling, “I think not. I can see right through it.”

He forgot about the illusion he’s been creating since his breakdown, of course you’d see right through it, “You died. And my mother is hurt.”

“So you lost control within yourself and chose self deprecation? And apparently…chaos.” The trickster god rolls his tired eyes which causes you to chuckle, “I see my passing onto greater things has weakened your ego.”

He scoffs, “Your ghost form does not amuse me.”

Taking a glance down the vacant hallway, you step right through the golden tinged force field like it’s nothing more then air. “Loki Laufeyson, I am not a phantom or a dreary pigment of your imagination you foolish prick. I am Y/N, Goddess of Chaos and Magic. And someone who has missed you deeply.”

Loki frowns, blue eyes focused up at your truthful face as he sighs, “I….I don’t think I understand what is happening.”

You approach his side before kneeling down to reach his level, you two have never been this close before, “My tale was true as the forming of this realm itself. But your mother saw me for who I am, not what I have been enchanted to do with my life. So she gave me another chance to live, and so I did. To protect her and guard her until she deems otherwise, that’s why I’m still alive and that’s why your mother still has a beating heart.”

Loki reaches out for your hand that you gladly let him take, “Those prisoners..”

“I killed them. Every last one of those fuckers and the damn dark elves who attempted to crash their ship into the great hall. Let’s just say, it didn’t go according to their plans.” You explain, pausing for a moment to share a longing look with the Asgardian prince.

The corners of his lips rise into a soft smile, a deeply relieved one while you look down at your laced fingers, “Loki.” You whisper before drawing your head up to properly look at him.

“Yes.”

“I’m still counting on a better story.” You muse as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Unfortunately none of these books happen to provide a decent tale, my dear.”

You gently squeeze his hand, “In that case I’ll bring you all the books stuffed in that giant library. There’s bound to be a good one, something happy.”

“I’d like that.” Nods the prince.

You smile, “But I have to ask you one thing.”

“Of course.”

“Did you miss me?”

Loki squeezes your hand right back, “More then I’d ever missed anyone.” Reveals the dark haired prince as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, though his fingers linger on your cheek a moment longer before he slowly pulls them away and into his lap.

You can’t help but snicker which causes his face to scrunch up in puzzled embarrassment. Immediately do you reach up to cup his cheek, “I felt the same way. And I think I might feel a bit more too, quit possibly a lot more. No. Yes definitely a lot more then I first led on from a few weeks ago in fact and all I must admit to you now Loki Laufeyson or Odinson..prince of Asgard I think I’d like to kiss you now if that’s okay with you.”

Loki blinks, did he hear you right? “oh.” He mumbles, clearly unsure of himself or whatever wonderful thing you just said.

You immediately remove your hand from his cheek, “Too soon. Sorry I just thought I read you right maybe I was wrong I can just leav….” You don’t even have a moment to finish your sentence when his lips press pleasantly against yours.

His hands hold your face while your own hands gently grip onto his forearms for support in your awkward positioning, with him sitting and you still crouched. But it matters not when his lips move in time with yours, he feels so lovely, like a hundred roses pressing against your skin.

Giving you that soft velvety feel, you could kiss him all day if he’d let you. Though soon enough the two of you must break for some air, and with that do you pull him to his feet while you float just inches off of the messy ground. Loki never once taking his hand away from yours.

“How can you….how can you do that?” Wonders the prince as he glances from the ground to your face.

You shrug, “How can you move things with your mind?”

He smiles, “I guess, I just can. A terribly lackluster explanation I know, but perhaps I’m not truly certain how either.”

“Well let’s not dwell on the unknown for too long, this moment right now is too sacred for anything else. And though I have to leave, I will return to you…..and next time with more books. Then you will have no choice then to read them all to me.”

Loki hums, “I don’t see a problem there.” Before whispering in your ear, “Maybe bring some wine, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”

You share a bright grin, “As the spoiled prince asks, but it will cost you.”

Loki raises an intrigued brow, “Cost what?”

“A kiss. Before and after I do your bidding. Can you settle for those terms?”

Loki’s lips pull into an adorable smile, cheeks almost dusting pink at your new flash of boldness. He’s never met anyone quit like you in all his years alive. “I believe those terms are acceptable.”

You give him a wink, “Good. See you then.” And with that do you crash your lips against his for on more heated embrace before leaving one final kiss to his slender cheek and floating out of the cell you go. Stopping behind the glass to give your new lover one last fleeting look, “Miss me you prick.”

Loki smirks, “Always.”

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel #god of mischief #fanfiction #fanfic #tom hiddleston

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givemeyourcrunchbars · 3 years

Text

Sequestered

Fern x f!reader

If there are any warnings I need to add, please let me know :)

The weight of the crown on your head was too much to bear today. You gently set it down onto the grass, next to you in the shade of the giant oak trees above you.

If someone were to ask you what it's like to be a princess, you would say it's a curse. For the past 15 years you've been raised, your father was stern and barely paid any attention to you. Suffering from neglect, you slowly watched him become more and more corrupt with power, forcing the entire kingdom to stay within its walls. As far as the common people knew, the outside was a mysterious place not to be messed with.

That's what power does to people. To have all these abilities at your hands, is a great responsibility. But most rulers toss those away, like a bag of trash being disposed into the garbage can.

You sighed, gazing across to the opposite side of the clearing you were sitting in. You raised your head to look up at the sky. Oh, what I would do to have a different life...

The rustling of leaves caught your attention. You gasped, quickly backing away into the shelter of the trees. Dad can't catch me being here!

"Hey."

You froze as relief washed over you. It wasn't your father.

You weren't allowed to leave the kingdom. Finding loopholes wasn't easy, so you didn't know what you'd do if he found out.

Carefully, you stood up, squinting at the figure standing at the opposite end of the meadow. Slowly, they- or it- stepped into the sunlight. You recognized him from your past adventures. Fern the Human.

"Hi," you replied warily. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know," he said. "Just exploring." Fern wore the same expression he did normally, a blank set of eyes and his mouth set in a straight line.

You nodded, your eyes darting around the clearing, at anything but him. You rarely interacted with outsiders, especially since you weren't allowed outside of your kingdom. So you didn't know how to act. All your social skills started chipping away because you were forced to stay inside all the time. "Princess duties".

"I haven't seen you around here before," the grass boy remarked. "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" I repeated. That was a good question. Every single decision I've had to make and every emotion I've had was decided for me. So much so, that I wasn't sure there was any "me" left.

"I'm Y/N," you replied. Fern tilted his head.

"Where are you from?"

"Um." You struggled to find the words. He couldn't know about the kingdom, or else you would find yourself kicked out. What was even the purpose of telling him? It could only end badly. His curiosity would get the better of him, driving him him to see the kingdom for himself. Would Fern even try to save us?

Even though you wanted to rescue your people badly, the thought of them roaming around aimlessly in the Land of Ooo scared you. They barely knew anything about the outside, and the only information they did know altered their perspective to think of it in a bad light. Besides, what could Fern do to help? He's just one person.

"It's none of your business," you ended up blurting out. "I have to go." Your father wanted you home for the evening anyway. For what, he didn't say.

You turned away before you could hear Fern's reply, dashing off into the dense forest.

Taking a deep breath, you began to form an image of a raven inside your mind. Shapeshifting was still something you weren't good at. You were supposed to follow a certain set of rules as a princess, one of which being that you couldn't shapeshift into your raven form in the presence of other people. It was seen as impolite.

Focus on shapeshifting! You commanded yourself. Finally, you were able to fly, ruffling your wings a bit. You missed being able to soar.

"Wait!" Fern's voice yelled from behind you, his footsteps trodding through the layers of leaves on the forest floor. You sighed, flapping up to the tree tops and taking off. A feeling of dread gradually grew in your chest, facing the reality that you had to go back to your secluded life, with people that ignored and misunderstood you.

As the dark green leaves of the forest zoomed by beneath your feet, you began to wonder whether you should've listened to what Fern had to say. Eh, it probably wasn't important.

Directing your thoughts back to your destination, you vowed to come back to your happy place as soon as possible. It helped clear your head. Hopefully, Fern won't be there next time. The idea of talking to people made you uncomfortable. The people that you've trusted in the past have all either broken your trust, or just didn't care about you at all.

There's a crown here in the bushes, Fern observed, lifting the heavy piece of gold. It was a big ring, with an arm extending upwards, holding a small, rugged black crystal. Interesting.

Turning it over in his hands, something strange caught his eye. A carving on the back of the crown. It was barely illegible, but Fern could make out one name. Y/N.

"Where is your crown?" The Raven King hissed angrily. "The suitors are already here!"

"I don't know, Dad!" You frantically racked your mind, trying to remember where you had left it. A princess' crown was a part of her, as a role model and a symbol. But this time, it represented worth.

"Why are you making me marry someone I don't even know anyway?" You hurriedly glanced at your father, brows furrowed. Your father had invited a group of suitors to compete for your hand in marriage. They desired only the princess' heart, but it wasn't true love, like what you dreamed of as a child. They just wanted land, wealth, and power. Marrying you was their key to a happy life. Without your label as a princess, they would have no opportunity at all.

"You know very well why!" Your father growled. "This is going to be beneficial for the kingdom! Don't you want me to prosper?"

You started walking down the spiraling staircase that lead to the main hallways, unable to stay calm any longer. "I want the people to prosper," you replied, sending a spine-chilling glare to your father behind you. Before he could respond, you stomped away, into the main hallway where a line of antsy suitors stood waiting.

You definitely have a thing for walking out on people.

"Heya, Fern!" A boy wearing a worn, dual-toned green backpack greeted Fern, holding open the door that had separated the two just moments before. "Jake just made some meatloaf! Want some? It has your favorite- I mean our favorite garnishes." Finn grinned.

"No thanks," Fern replied, distracted. His eyes wandered all around the giant treehouse that stood over him, almost menacingly. Despite what Fern wanted to think, there was something about it that made him uneasy. When he thought of the treehouse, he thought of Finn, which in turn caused him to obsess over the fact that he wasn't Finn. Then who was he?

"No probs." Finn sounded a little disappointed, but cheered up when Jake called out that the meatloaf was ready from somewhere inside the house.

"By the way, can I ask you something?" Fern asked, taking something out of his backpack, which tumbled to the ground, causing him to groan in frustration. Finn turned back to his grassy friend while taking a plate of food from the unseen Jake. "What's up?"

He gasped when he saw the golden crown gleaming in the sunlight. "That belongs to one of the princesses!" He picked it up and handed it back to Fern.

Fern nodded, stowing it in his backpack. "I found it in the forest near Tree Trunks' house. I think this girl dropped it," he said.

"Whahf girl?" Finn said, trying to chew meatloaf at the same time. "PB? Fire Princess? Slime P?"

"No." Fern shook his head. "I've never seen her before, and honestly," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "She was scared of me." He sounded frustrated, his voice trailing off.

"Dude-"

"Why doesn't anything ever work out?!" Fern said in anguish. He curled his fingers in and out of his palm, trying to release the tension trapped in his mind.

"Calm down, dude," Finn exclaimed. "I can help you find her, don't worry! I've never seen this crown before either, so we can go together." He placed a hand on Fern's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"No!" Fern protested. "I wanna do it myself," he said, softer. "Can you just tell me how to find her?"

Finn looked taken aback for a second at his grassy friend's outburst, but nodded regardless. "You can ask the Candy People and the other kingdoms, they probably know who owns that crown." He handed Fern a map of the Land of Ooo, sketched out on a yellowed piece of paper.

Saying their goodbyes, Finn left Fern on his solo quest to find the mysterious princess.

The long and chaotic day was finally over. You sank down to the floor, your back against the door to your room. You stared at the king-sized bed. I hate this. I hate everything.

After you left your father standing on the stairs, you had awkwardly walked into the main hall. But that must have been the last straw for your father, because he still didn't join you, even after five minutes. He ended up sending a replacement to accompany you after a long time of waiting. You wished that the suitors didn't keep glancing at the spot where your crown was supposed to sit while you stood with your hands clasped in front of you, staring at the doorway your father was going to follow you through.

I still have to get the crown back, you thought. Where did I leave it? The only place I would've lost it would be... Then you realized. The clearing! Of course! Oh no, I have to go there right now!

You raced over to the small window in your bedroom, peeking your head out. Seeing practically no one outside, you transformed into your raven form and hopped on the windowsill. Suddenly, an object was hurled at you from below. Looking down, you saw a small child chucking pieces of corn at you.

"Get out of there, you stupid crow!" He yelled. Close enough.

You carefully flapped your wings, flying high above the kingdom. As soon as you were out of reach, the child gave up trying to knock you out of the sky and returned to his home, resuming the quiet atmosphere the kingdom always held during evenings.

Night had almost fallen over Ooo when you finally arrived at your meadow. Landing in the spot where you had sat earlier that day, you turned back into a human and rummaged through the bushes for your long lost crown. As the minutes ticked by, you began to grow more frustrated. Where is it?! If I lose it forever, I'm done for.

"Huh?" You said out loud. Prying apart the branches of a blueberry bush, you found a few grass blades attached to the rough leaves, reminding you of Fern. You stood up. Why not just see if Fern had it? He wasn't the scavenger type, but something as mysterious as an unknown princess' crown was sure to fascinate him.

Ugh, the sun is setting. You sighed in defeat, vowing to visit Fern the next day to take back the circlet. Another day that's ending, another gloomy morning to look forward to. But this time, you had a mission to accomplish.

#adventure time fern x reader #adventure time #fern x reader #adventure time x reader

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ketchupkio · 3 years

Text

Pillow Talk

co-written with @mizuriii!!

Rating: G

Category: M/M

Relationship: Legend/Warriors

Words: 2123

Contents:

established relationship, the rest of the polycule is mentioned, trans male character, fluff, like some cavity inducing fluff, light angst, nightmares, prophetic dreams, phantom pain, chronic pain, comfort, Legend and Warriors being mushy, sleeping in the same bed, lullabies, contains like 1.5 references to sex lol, also a reference to Plot??? OWO???

Summary:

Legend and Warriors get some rest... or try to.

An excerpt of something that was supposed to be canon in the AU, but we didn't think hard enough about the timeline first so it's not lmao. Hope you like it!!!!!

Context: Legend, Twilight, Sky, and Wild have just come back from a excursion and traveled the whole night, not sleeping, because they got freaked out by something. Warriors couldn't sleep either because he was worried about them (...but mostly about Legend, let's be real). Legend saw him and immediately went cling! but Wars started spouting theory and strategy and that wasn't super appreciated by the sleep deprived heroes.

The hero with his face currently buried in Warriors’ scarf groaned in protest. “Babe, c’n it wait until ’ve had caffeine or a nap? Please…”

Twilight looked like he didn’t absorb half of what Wars had said. “Strategist brain is appreciated, but a nap would be good, yeah.”

"Er.... s-sorry. We've got these rooms for the next two days, so you're all welcome to head back upstairs if you want...?"

Legend tugged on his scarf, trying to get his eyes to focus enough to glare at him. “You’re coming too. Ya didn’t sleep either, dummy.”

"I-- .... okay, okay, I'm coming. I just wanted to let them know they don't have to rush."

Warriors smiled at him and let Legend push him toward the stairs.

"Your rooms are the three at the far end of the second floor, and the first right hand door on the third."

“Their room is on the third, if you wanna avoid it,” Wind sneered. Hyrule pinched his ear and Legend flipped him off before managing to successfully shove Warriors into the stairwell.

"Are you really alright?" Warriors asked, slipping an arm around Legend’s body. ".....You look exhausted, love...."

Legend hummed. “No one got hurt, but… haven’t been sleepin’ well recently. Barely got any ‘n past few days… Nightmares… ‘N I have a hard time without you...”

"....Me too. When I turn over and you're not there, it's--.... it's cold, you know? But more than cold."

Warriors kissed his temple as he led up to their room, and produced a spare key for Legend in case he wanted to get up and get breakfast before Warriors woke later on, unlocking the door with it before slipping the key into Legend's waist pouch.

"Come sleep with me, okay...? We'll actually get some rest for once."

Legend nodded, and after the door closed, he let Warriors unbuckle his belt and open his tunic. Legend would have dropped them on the floor, but Warriors laid them over the back of a chair, along with his scarf.

“Stays and boots off,” he instructed, and Legend complied with barely an insubordinate tongue sticking out in return. Warriors chuckled at him fondly as he climbed into bed and reached for him, trying to snag the hem of his shirt as he changed into something softer.

“Love you…” Legend murmured. “C’mere…”

"Your wish is my command," Warriors hummed, settling in once he was changed himself, and nestling up under Legend’s chin. His hands pressed gently against Legend’s side and his back, and Warriors took a minute just to breathe in the smell of Legend’s presence. "I love you more..."

Legend would have protested if he hadn’t been so damn tired, so all Warriors got was a (frankly adorable) grumble as the younger hero slung his arms around him and pressed his cheek against the golden hair at his crown. Warriors could feel the tension leaving him as he relaxed, and with Legend’s steady heartbeat under his ear, he could finally breathe easy enough to relax too.

"......Goddesses, we're such anxious wrecks," he laughed after a minute. "Fuck me sideways..."

"Mmh. Maybe tomorrow."

Warriors snorted, then kissed his neck before settling again.

"Sleep well for me, love.... My night depends on it."

…..Legend tried his best. He did.

There were flashes of the desert, of a different era’s Hyrule Castle, of the shade of a king and a jaded prince taking the throne from a corrupt queen, a furious Sheikah founding a rogue organization, and an old, bitter sorcerer with a young face making a deal he couldn’t refuse. Then, dark, choking mists of acid, plants and grass melting at their feet as they advanced, searching, hunting--

Legend shot awake, gasping as phantom pain shot through his arms and back along old, white scars that coiled and branched off like vines through his blood vessels in place of the stinging, corroding pain of acid from his dream.

He didn’t even hear Warriors calling his name until the pain receded to a strong, but not overwhelming ache.

It was dark, he could hear rain hitting the shutters of the windows, and he could feel the storm in his hands and knees and hips.

“Link…” he managed, in an effort to let his partner know he was alive.

Warriors loosed a gasp of relief and worry, and then pulled Legend tight to his chest.

"Y-you were wailing," the captain said, tripping over his words, "a-and crying for me-- are you okay?"

“Sorry…” he rasped, trying to get his bearings. Gods, his throat was raw and he could feel sweat rapidly cooling on his skin in the chill the rain brought. It’d be nice if he could flex his hands at all, or move his anything without it hurting. “I-I ruined your sleep, didn’t I?”

"To hell with my sleep, y-you're in pain, aren't you? Is it the storm? ....Fuck, where'd I put my potion bag--"

“‘S okay, don’t rush… Potions don’t help a lot when there’s nothin’ to heal, babe,” Legend muttered, sluggish even as a sense of urgency crept over him. “...Had a dream. Been having similar ones lately… I have a bad feeling about it.”

"....... Can you tell me about it?" Warriors asked. "You sounded like you were in agony, it scared me...."

Legend leaned into him as best he could. “O-old pain trying to come close to dream pain… It had a sorcerer in it, and a rogue Sheikah… Didn’t Wild say the Yiga from his era used to be Sheikah? This might have been the first of them… Something about Hylian royalty… I-I had prophetic dreams before my first quest…. This feels like those.”

".....A prophetic dream you have bad feelings about....?" Warriors grimaced. "....Should we wake up Sky and the sprite? If you're having prophetic visions, they might be too, but if they're not we can maybe rule out that there's an evil sorcerer on our case."

Legend wanted to ball his fists in Warriors’ shirt, but he couldn’t make his fingers do more than curl loosely. “If I could move, yeah, but that’s probably not going to be for a while… You could get them if you wanted.”

".......Later. When the storm passes, because I'm not leaving you."

Legend let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you…. Come here and hold me? I’m cold…”

He didn't have to ask Warriors twice. The captain practically wrapped himself around Legend, and pulled in close and tight.

"I've got you, love. I'll keep you warm."

Legend kissed whatever part of Warriors was closest, which happened to be his jaw. “....You’re wonderful…”

….Something nagged at him, though. Warriors hadn’t been a part of his dream that he could remember, but…

“Hey… You said I called out to you…?”

"Yeah.... I think you were asking for help...."

“That… doesn’t bode well,” Legend grimaced. “Can you promise me something, though? I mean like actually promise, no matter the circumstances.”

"......You're scaring me a little.... What is it...?"

“Don’t throw yourself in front of anything for anyone. Not even me. Don’t do reckless bullshit that would get yourself hurt instead of others. That’s not to say you can’t defend anyone, just… don’t jump in where you know you’re gonna overextend and get hurt as a result. Does that make sense? I know that’s both specific and not at the same time, but I can’t explain it. I just… have a feeling. Promise you’ll be careful about that?”

"Don't do something reckless that'll get me killed out of some white knight complex and lack of self preservation? Is that what you want from me?"

Legend tried to shrink further into Warriors’ chest. “....Yes….”

"......You're asking me for quite the tall order," Warriors hummed, pressing kisses against Legend’s temple. "Aren't I supposed to be your dashing knight in shining armor, astride a white horse, keeping all the scary monsters at bay?"

He was trying for humor, but humor wasn't a given promise.

Legend huffed, but the kisses were sweet and he liked the attention. “Yes, and I know that’s a whole personality archetype for you, but Link… I’m worried. Please. This wasn’t in my dream, but it’s got the same feeling. Can you promise me that you won’t do something stupid like that?”

"I--"

Warriors hesitated.

".....Legend-- if something happened to you--"

“No, no, that’s not relevant. Link. We carry fairies and spells and items as countermeasures so if we do get into a dire situation like that, we’ll survive and not have to endanger anyone else in the process. There would be no need for you to risk yourself like that, which is why I want you to promise me you won’t. Hyrule has the goddamn triforce. I’m sure if something were to happen to one of us, there would be some way to help that wouldn’t involve you needlessly throwing your life away. Especially if it’s me, who has items so overpowered that I don’t use them, but keep them in reach so if I need to, I can…. You’re not making me feel good about this.”

"......You didn't hear what you sounded like tonight.... I'm sorry, I just-- ....There's not a whole lot worse than having someone you love screaming for you to help them and being helpless... I don't want to repeat that when there's someone trying to kill us."

Legend scowled, then gave a long sigh. “...We also have three partners at home. We have to think about them too. Minimum number of people getting hurt…”

He… felt like he wasn’t going to get his answer at this rate. Goddamnit.

"............That could also go for you, you know.... but that isn't what you want me to say."

Warriors sighed.

".......If you promise not to get into a situation I feel like you won't come home okay in, I won't do anything stupid. Deal....?"

….That was also a hard thing to guarantee. But…

“I’ll try my best. Deal,” Legend said with a note of finality. “...Now kiss me to seal it. We’re making a contract.”

Warriors smiled and tilted up Legend's chin with his fingers, and pressed a soft, but long, luxuriant kiss against his mouth.

"I love you, love.... Please, goddesses above, get some rest..."

Legend stole another kiss because he needed it. “And I love you, Sir Knight… I’ll try, if I can. Tired…”

".... Should I sing for you...?"

When Legend looked up, Warriors wasn't looking at him, and instead trained his eyes on a particularly interesting lump on the old earthen wall as his ears burned.

"Y-y'know.... t'help you sleep...."

Goddesses above, Legend was smitten. Every day he fell a little bit harder for this man.

He kissed Warriors’ cheek. If his hands worked, he’d be tempted to stroke those beautiful, flushed ears and run his fingers over the scarred edge of his left one. “...I’d love that, baby.”

"M'kay..... Tell. No one. Okay?"

“Why would I? This is just for me. Wouldn’t wanna share it with anyone else…”

"Three reasons. Guess their names."

Legend grinned. “Why wouldn’t you want them to know? They’re our partners, we love them. Two are very musically gifted and would love it. While cute, you’re also being silly.”

"Mhhhhhhh because!! It makes me self conscious and people used to stare.... A-anyway, are you gonna hush and let me, o-or what??"

Warriors’ face was so, so red, and Legend was having some very dangerous thoughts about proposing marriage. Nonetheless, the younger hero conceded.

“Gods above, I’m so in love with you. Okay, yes, I’ll be quiet,” he said, tucking himself more comfortably into Warriors and the pillows.

Warriors kissed him again, and sighed, letting his thumb rest on Legend's cheek, the circles it ran over his skin serving as his metronome. A gentle lullaby brought Legend back to gentle shorelines, warm sand and easy, soft sunlight. It nestled him against merchants fabric that smelled lightly of spice and fairy dust, to old books with knowledge ancient and timeless. It brought him round to soft white linen and blue silk, and rocked him gently on the heels of someone taller than he was, pulling Legend over to a gentle heartbeat.

It brought him home even though home was a thousand miles and goddess only knew how many years away from now.

There was something to be said for song magic, because Warriors was doing it, whether he intended to or not. Legend could feel the intent of a spell woven into his voice. It made him feel warm and safe, eased the pain and fatigue of his body, and relaxed him enough that he immediately started to drift off, awash in the calm sea of Warriors’ voice.

He was out like a light.

Thanks for reading!!! Reblogging and/or screaming in tags/replies/inbox is SO appreciated!!!

#new au #new au fic #not lu #this was too adorable not to post #am screm #hope y'all like them!!!!! writing leg/wars is so comforting i just vbjdsvdsjvsl #also don't y'all fuckin listen to mizu if she tries to say she didn't write just as much of this as i did #or that she's not JUST as stunning w words #we wrote equal amounts of this #this is as co-author as it gets #really i'd never get anything done if it wasn't for her #aaaah i'll shumsh now lol #REBLOG AND SCREM IS HIGHLY ENCOURAGED #ageless soul au #ageless soul au fic

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anthemxix · 3 years

Text

whumpay day 4: ice / fire (part 2 - fire)

hello~ i split this prompt into two unrelated stories. ice was based on a star wars scene, and this one is based on a different movie. which is based on a book, but i haven't read the book since i was a kid. also i haven't seen this movie since it came out, and i went off-script from the scene quite a bit, but anyway, please enjoy wind having a rough time~

Panting, Wind flattened himself against an ages-old stone column, examining the glistening, waxy burns marring his trembling hands and arms. In his haste, he had foolishly dropped the loot bag that held all his potions. Waiting to heal his red, peeling flesh would surely result in scars; he hoped that would be the extent of the permanent damage, that his nerves or his range of motion would not be impacted.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, he thought. You might not even get out of here at all.

To emphasize the point, an immense roar reverberated throughout the labyrinthine corridors and chambers behind him, causing the column at his back to quiver like his burned arms. The movement knocked loose some stone chips and dust that rained down on Wind’s hair, but he didn’t bother to brush them away as he remembered the conversation he’d had with Warriors that morning, before he and the others had embarked on their mission.

“You don’t have to do this,” Warriors had rasped. Laying stiff and uncomfortable on a cot in a kind-hearted citizen’s home, he still looked terribly pale from the mass blood loss he’d suffered the previous day. The impalement wounds in his torso, mostly healed now, were securely wrapped in bandages. “We can think of a different plan.”

Wind sighed, rubbing his then-unblemished thumb across Warriors’ knuckles as he held his brother’s hand. “Why don’t you trust me? I’m the most skilled thief we’ve got. I can do this.”

“I trust you,” Warriors replied without hesitation. “I trust your skills. But this mission… It’s not our place to meddle in local politics in the first place, but to do so when the risk outweighs the reward? It’s not a good idea.”

“You worry too much,” Wind moaned. Tired of the Captain’s coddling, he stood up, releasing Warriors’ hand. “Just get some rest, and we’ll be back before you know it, with the fancy stone and everything. No sweat.”

Before Wind could walk away, Warriors grabbed his elbow, grip noticeably feebler than usual. “Sailor.”

Frowning, Wind turned back, preparing to dismiss Warriors’ overblown concerns yet again, but paused in seeing the somberness—and was that fear?—on his face.

“Promise me you’ll get out of there at the first sign of danger,” Warriors pleaded. “This isn’t worth risking your life over.”

Protestations died on Wind’s tongue, and he patted the Captain’s hand reassuringly. “Okay. I promise.”

But in the end, he hadn’t listened, Wind reflected now, feeling the ground tremble as the beast moved through the mines.

Everything had gone so smoothly since they departed the lakeside town, leaving Twilight to tend Warriors and Wild, their best archer, to prepare for the worst-case scenario. The ascent up the mountain, the unimpeded journey into the mines inside it, and Wind’s sojourn into the impossibly astronomical chamber that held what surely had to be the largest treasure cache in this or any era… It was all smooth sailing. He’d even found the stone they were hunting for, the ovular, iridescent jewel that apparently would restore a fallen regent to power.

He’d tried to be cautious, but apparently, he wasn’t careful enough. From beneath the endless piles of rupees, gold, armor, chalices, and gems rose a terrible monster more massive than any he’d ever seen. A scaled, winged demon whose chest glowed orange like a furnace, whose breath smelled of ash, whose snakelike, amber eyes glinted hungrily as its baritone voice echoed off the mountain walls.

“Where—are—you?” the beast drawled. “I know you’re here.”

Its claws clanked carelessly against the treasure as it stepped across the room, gargantuan tail flicking like a whip. “I can hear your breathing. I can smell you. Show yourself…little thief.”

Wind smacked backwards against the column now, holding his tender, burned arms out in front of him as he heard the mammoth beast thundering closer. He glanced at his friends, hidden, like him, in the shadows, their trap waiting for its victim.

It will be okay, Wind assured himself. We’ll catch it off-guard. We’ll go back and find my bag with the stone. Then we’ll go back to the town, to Twilight and Wild and Warriors, and we’ll all be okay.

He smelled smoke and ash as the monster approached, sounding half-amused, half-annoyed as it bellowed out, “I will find you, little Hylians. Little thieves. You won’t make it out of here alive.”

Wind had come face-to-face with death more times than he could count, but somehow, that voice, that threat, made his heart stutter like nothing else ever had. His eyes stung as he thought about all the calm and clear nights, perfumed by dewy grass, that he’d laid his head on the Captain’s stomach and pointed out constellations, had rambled about his high-sea adventures, maybe tossing in an embellishment or two to impress. Surely, there would be more nights like that. Surely, he wouldn’t die here, trapped in some crumbling, ancient mines inside a lonely mountain ruled by a treasure-hoarding beast.

He shrank back against the column, daring to peek as the creature clomped farther into the open chamber, smoke curling from its nostrils as it stopped in front of a golden statue as tall as the beast itself. It opened its mouth, perhaps to spew another threat, missing the first dribbles of liquefying metal as it swung its head around in search of its prey—but then the statue began to melt, collapsing in on itself and gushing out molten geysers that sprayed the monster directly in the eyes.

It heaved a pained cry, stumbling back a step, but was unable to avoid the tsunami of lava-hot liquid that clung to its scales and seeped into its nose and mouth. Bellowing in agony, the monster crumpled to the stone floor, nearly submerged in the molten gold, and for a moment, it fell silent and still.

Wind felt a surge of hope; he staggered to his feet, cradling his wounded arms to his chest, staring wide-eyed at the gilded body of the beast—but the monster suddenly reared its head, roaring, dragging itself upright as it screamed, “Pitiful Hylians! I will show you revenge!”

With melted metal flying off it in torrents, the monster surged forward, rampaged through the great hall, and recklessly smashed through the gigantic doors that had protected this mountain for centuries. Adrenaline had Wind bolting after the beast before he knew what he was doing, and he stumbled outside into sunlight in time to see the dragon stretching its wings and taking flight.

“I am fire,” it roared out, the orange glow by its heart amplifying, building up along its throat as fresh smoke poured between its teeth. “I—am—death.”

Wide-eyed, Wind watched the dragon sail with purpose across the lake and towards the unsuspecting town on its shores, towards the innocent people who would become the collateral damage of his failure. He heard the other heroes behind him, pounding across the cliff, shouting to one another, and he dropped to his knees, gaze never leaving the monster in the sky.

“What have I done?”

#linked universe #lu #fanfiction #fanfic #lu wind #wind #whumpay2021 #my writing

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folderolsfollies · 4 years

Text

sangyao arranged marriage fic (arranged by Nie Huaisang)

summary: Before Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli’s marriage and after Wei Wuxian’s flight to the burial mounds, Jin Guangyao is rapidly gaining power, which a strong marriage alliance would cement. Jin Guangyao likes taking care of people. Nie Huaisang wants to be a trophy husband. If you ignore literally everyone else in their lives, they’re a perfect couple. (Basically I saw this post and then this post and then I blacked out thinking about playing games with power dynamics.)

word count: 2.5k rating: t

Part 1

“San-ge! San-ge!” Nie Huaisang shouts, skidding through the halls of the Unclean Realm. He has to go farther than he thought before he sees the ridiculous black official’s hat bobbing along, one of the disciples had only informed him that Jin Guangyao was there when he was practically out of the door, since for some bizarre reason, Jin Guangyao has made the trek all the way over to Qinghe and didn’t even bother telling him.

When he reaches the other man, he flings his arms around his neck.

“Second Young M-ah, Nie Huaisang...”, says Jin Guangyao warningly, but his eyes are bright and laughing, and he doesn’t step away until Nie Huaisang releases him. His eyes are darting around the halls, but the halls are deserted. Nie Huaisang had made sure to intercept him in a quiet spot.

“Why don’t you just call me A-Sang,” Nie Huaisang says mischievously, “After all, we’re brothers now!”

Jin Guangyao gaze dims and he looks down. “I wouldn’t dare take the liberty, not in your brother’s home,” he murmurs, chin tucked in, eyes firmly planted on the floor. And now that won’t do one bit.

Nie Huaisang points at him with his fan, playfully. “Oh, Da-ge, he just shouts. If he gives you any trouble, just come to me! I’ll protect you,” he says, and grins, remembering the way that Meng Yao would scold him for missing practice and then say, well Young Master, I’ll protect you this time, but don’t do it again!, the both of them knowing that he would never listen unless it suited him.

Jin Guangyao is looking up again and grinning now, and he says, “And how does Nie Huaisang propose to protect me? With his saber?” He’s openly laughing at Nie Huaisang, and it fills Huaisang with a helpless, giddy fondness. Little Meng Yao, who flinches like a kicked dog at every low-level disciple, always with that polite strained smile, gets so vicious when he’s around Nie Huaisang. He’s like a bird with a broken wing. Nie Huaisang wants to tape him up and let him fly.

But the trick with trapping a wild animal is that you can’t let them know that you see them, or it gives the game away. “I was thinking I’d cry until he forgave us, actually” he says, and does a massively fake pout for emphasis. “Now that I’m your little brother, you’ll have to get wise to all my tricks.”

Jin Guangyao smiles, a quick little glimmer like a fish gleaming brightly from deep within murky water. Jin Guangyao has a whole repertoire of smiles, smiles of appeasement and anger and reproach, but this to gain this one is a particular treasure, and Nie Huaisang will say a staggering amount of nonsense if he can see it again. “Not much of a trick, if you announce that it’s one when you’re doing it.”

Nie Huaisang looks at him, and pitches his voice as serious as Lan Qiren 2,000 rules deep into a lecture at the Cloud Recesses, “Ah, you see, my devoted pupil, the real trick is to lull your target into a false sense of security. Then they’ll never see your real schemes coming.” He taps his finger on the side of his nose, like his friend Wei Wuxian constantly does, and hopes that it reads the same on his delicate features as it does on Wei Wuxian’s handsome ones.

It must work well enough, because Jin Guangyao’s quick-fish smile is back, and his posture is relaxed enough for Nie Huaisang to drag him through the halls with only cursory protests about how he really must be going back to Lanling, he has important work to do, his father would never-

“Ugh, your father,” Nie Huaisang says, carelessly, and feels Jin Guangyao stiffen under his arms.

Before Jin Guangyao can say anything to ruin the pleasantness of the moment, Nie Huaisang says quickly, “Ugh, sorry, I’m stupid! You know I wasn’t old enough to really know my father until his last days, and by then he was, well, unwell,” he finishes delicately. Nie Mingjue probably wouldn’t like him using his father’s last moments like this, as a bait, but Nie Huaisang kicks the brief stab of guilt merrily to the side. Frankly, this is the least that his father could do for him, he feels. The last three months of his life really were not ideal. (Hiding in his locked room, Mingjue’s hand briefly clasping his before he leaves the room to face him, the noise of someone screaming - well. All in the past now.)

As he suspected, Jin Guangyao has softened at the mention of Nie Huaisang’s Tragic Past, which is exactly as he had wanted it to go. “You’re not stupid, young master, family is sometimes difficult,” he says politely. There’s an opening there, if he wants to push it- with the way that Madam Jin and Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao all deliberately look past each other when they’re trapped in a room together, it’s truly stupid how the larger cultivator world can’t seem to see that there’s something fishy going on there - Nie Huaisang thinks, and then lets it go.

“Ah,” he says, and schools his features to look carefully brave for a second, “but let’s talk about happier things! I’ve done some remodelling on the aviary, you should come and see the new birds.” It’s also usually deserted and with clear sight-lines in all directions, which are two things which automatically relax Jin Guangyao.

The truly nice thing about Jin Guangyao is that Nie Huaisang can manhandle him all that he likes, because if Jin Guangyao truly has better things to do, he’ll be all Yes, Nie-er-gongzi, and, you’re very wise, Nie-er-gongzi, and melt away the moment Nie Huaisang isn’t looking, so Nie Huaisang feels no compunction regarding linking their arms together and tugging him towards the aviary.

Nie Huaisang makes the trip up and down the aviary’s spiral staircase all the time, but if he still takes the opportunity to lean against Meng Yao when they reach the top, to place one hand on his forearm, huffing a little to show how laborious of a trip it was, well, who’s hurt by it? It’s good to make a show of uselessness sometimes. Meng Yao certainly doesn’t say anything. He’s wearing golden silk robes with squares of bright, shining gold inlaid in the fabric, and the smooth portions are an interesting textural contrast to the rougher raw silk. Nie Huaisang pets it gently, to feel the texture shift under his palms, smooth, rough, rough, smooth. His mind feels pleasantly empty, narrowed down to just the sensation of cloth and the harsh rustle of fabric.

Meng Yao’s mouth is smiling, which doesn’t mean anything, but his eyes are wide and confused. His gaze is fixed on Nie Huaisang’s hands, where their two sleeves are twined together like grafted tree roots. A long moment passes before Meng Yao pulls away, and carefully smooths out the creases that Nie Huaisang has made in the fabric. He doesn’t say anything at all.

For no reason, Nie Huaisang feels his cheeks heating up, feels like blurting out an apology, and he rushes into the aviary ahead of him, speaking a little too fast and loud.

He darts among his birds, showing him which ones have laid new eggs and which ones he’s bought recently, and all the new plants that he’s brought in to simulate Gusu’s mountainous environment for his new black bulbul. Nie Huaisang doubts that Jin Guangyao spends more than a quarter shichen thinking about birds when he’s away from the Unclean Realm, and that probably on what to serve at a feast, but he still remembers exactly how it was the last time he came, and comments cleverly on the new arrangements. Sometimes Nie Huaisang misses Meng Yao so abruptly he can’t breathe, misses that serious, attentive face, the way that he took him not too seriously, but just seriously enough.

He has a fantasy where Meng Yao just told him about the guard that had treated him so badly that it had led to his banishment. Would have Huaisang killed the man for him? Well, probably not. But there are ways to disgrace a man, banish him without lifting a finger. Huaisang lies in bed at night and thinks about all those ways. Although it doesn’t matter anyway, clever Meng Yao has landed on his feet, hasn’t he?

When he thinks that, he’s filled with a sense of disquiet. Meng Yao was Nie first - well, Nie before Jin, at least, and he hopes that he hasn’t forgotten that. “Come, braid my hair,” he says suddenly, plopping down on a chair, and Meng Yao doesn’t raise an eye at the sudden change of topic. “I can’t reach the back properly and nobody does it as well as you.” By nobody, he’s means Da-ge, and they both know it, but he won’t breach their fragile bubble of happiness by mentioning him if Meng Yao won’t.

“Nie Huaisang, you’re too hard on yourself,” Meng Yao says, smiling and patient, “you braid beautifully,” but he’s already reaching for the comb that Huaisang is handing to him, lining behind Nie Huaisang. The gesture is familiar, the room is familiar, the murmurations of the birds through the trees are familiar. Nie Huaisang’s skin tingles in anticipation. He can feel the phantom weight of fingertips scratching along his scalp, teasing into straightness every errant whorl of hair. The way that his unbound hair would hang along his waist, the looseness and lightness of it.

Meng Yao, standing behind him, drags a thumb around the circlet holding his hair up, in between the heavy loops of braids and the hair underneath. The sensation is too dull, fleeting. “Your hair looks fine, Huaisang,” Meng Yao says quietly, his cool breath tickling Huaisang’s ear.

Huaisang twists around quickly so they’re facing each other, and it’s ungraceful. Nie Huaisang remembers - in the past - when he’d turn to talk to Meng Yao, it was like Meng Yao had somehow created a Huaisang shaped bubble that he could just slot into. Something has changed, in the last two years, and the shape of space between them is all wrong. Jin Guangyao’s eyes are pointed in the wrong direction, and Nie Huaisang’s face is too close.

He shuffles backwards a little, angles his face a little, and it’s still not the same, but now he can breathe. His usual tricks won’t work. Jin Guangyao won’t believe that he’s bad at it, and he can no longer threaten him with Da-ge. Well, there’s another tactic he hasn’t tried.

“Please, Jin-er-gongzi?” He says, looking down. It feels strange to address him so formally, to someone who’s worn the Nie family braids and who wears Huaisang’s hairpiece in his hair, but it also feels right. Smart, elegant, deadly - Mingjue may have always seen him as a delicate servant boy, but Nie Huaisang always saw him as a prince.

Eyes still focused on the floor, he chances a quick glance upwards. Jin Guangyao’s smile has frozen. He doesn’t know what game they’re playing.

He straightens. “I’ll start calling you that more,” he says decisively, scheme forgotten, “It’ll be helpful to you. I’ll get Da-ge on board too.”

Meng Yao gapes at him for a moment before he smooths it over, glint of a fish in the river before its lost again to the murky depths, and Nie Huaisang hadn’t known he could make that expression at all. “Jin-er-gongzi,” he says experimentally, to see if he can draw it out again, but Jin Guangyao has his smiling face firmly in place again.

“It’ll take more than that to earn my place,” Jin Guangyao says, and underneath his pleasant tone it sounds bitter, like the taste of ink under Nie Huaisang’s tongue. It sounds real.

Nie Huaisang drops his closed fan, and when he catches it by the head, it’s open in his hand. He flutters it, and opens his mouth to see what would come out. “A marriage would help with that, surely,” he says.

“I will have faith in what the elders decide, when that time comes, which of course would be after my elder brother weds,” Jin Guangyao says demurely, which they both know is a crock of shit; the elders all defer to Jin Guangshan, and what that man knows about marriage or women - and it would have to be a woman, with Jin Guangshan - in general could fit on the back of a talisman paper, if the paper was very small and the handwriting very large.

“Hm, yes, Da-ge is never interested in marriage, which is great! Because then nobody ever bothers me about it,” Huaisang says instead, and doesn’t add that it’s likely because the prospect of him creating more little Nie Huaisang’s is most likely terrifying to all involved.

Nie Huaisang has always seen the workings of his mind like a vast and subtle river, which overflows its banks and deposits thoughts to him, not fully under his own control. So he’s not fully sure what motivates him to continue, “And you know Da-ge’s so protective, I’d need someone who would protect me, just like you used to do.”

“You have to learn to stand up for yourself, Nie Huaisang,” Meng Yao says, and his large eyes are softly distant, like he’s listening to a thought, “there won’t always be someone to rescue you.”

I miss you- Come home, Nie Huaisang thinks, and the thought is sharp enough to feel like pain. “I’ll try, Jin-gongzi,” he says instead politely, “although you know about my weak cultivation.”

Another nice thing about Meng Yao is, when Nie Huaisang complains about his weakness, Meng Yao never argues against him or says that he would magically get better if he tried a little harder, worked a little more, he points out Nie Huaisang’s skill at art and astrology and Taoist magic. His tone is indulgent, parental. “In that sort of conflict, it’s not always your cultivation skill that counts,” he says, low and warm, like he’s imparting a lesson.

“I know, I know” says Nie Huaisang, who does know, who has been watching Meng Yao stammer and apologize and look deeply horrified at small misdeeds since before he realized what that sort of coquettishness implied. Whenever Nie Huaisang tries to imitate it, it comes out a child’s whine. Not a princess in need of rescuing, but a small dog that can be indulged or kicked aside.

“I must be going,” Meng Yao says, finally. “I am needed back at Lanling.” There’s a tone of finality in his voice.

Nie Huaisang is filled with a sudden, ridiculous desire, but he’s found that the consequences of indulging them have never been terrible. Not for him. He leans forward into the space between the two of them.

When he thumbs off Jin Guangyao’s ridiculous hat, there’s a circlet of Nie braids coiled like a serpent on the top of his head.

Nie Huaisang smiles. “I’ll see you soon.” he says.

#the untamed #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #sangyao

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xwing-baby · 4 years

Text

Ascent of The Emissary: The Golden Star

Word Count: 4k (whoops)

Series Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away...The FIRST ORDER have announced themselves to the galaxy and are set on destroying the Galactic Alliance. A young woman, born and raised in the rich Order sympathising society, on the planet RAELA, meets her supposed sworn enemy in a crowded marketplace and comes to a crossroads in her life. Does she follow the path laid out to her by her FAMILY or does she carve her own, JOIN THE FIGHT against the Order and BETRAY everything she’s ever known.

Chapter Summary: Kyla has decided to go to the Golden Star to find Rafan. Will the mysterious stranger help her make her decision or will this be the end of her?

<- Previous chapter // Introduction // Next Chapter ->

The chauffeur dropped us all back at home, my father and brother relaxed on the couch whilst my mother ordered the droids to get dinner ready.

“I’m going out this evening,” I announced, having not moved from the doorway, “I said I would meet a friend for dinner,”

“But we’ve already eaten,” My father said plainly as he sat down in his armchair.

“It’s more of a catch-up,” I explained, lying through my back teeth to try and find a way out of the house, “Just some snacks, I haven’t seen her for a while and-”

“It’s fine, darling,” My mother swanned into the room, handing my father a drink. “Go enjoy yourself, be back before dark,” She smiled kindly. My father grumbled but I ignored him already making my way to the door.

“Of course. Love you,” I called before shutting the door behind me. It was the end of the work day, everyone in the city was moving about. I managed to find my way, asking a few people along the way directions to the Golden Star.

I was apprehensive. Not really sure why I was going to an unknown location directed by a man I did not know. This could be a trap. There was a high likelihood that it was and that I was going to get there and he would rob me, or that the Golden Star was completely made up.

I’d never been this far from the city centre on my own before. The bustling streets gave way to quieter but tighter ones, weaving in and out of old stone buildings from before the old Republic. The cobbled stone on the floor was uneven and even missing in places. It was clear that no one from central had been here in a long time.

I finally came upon the right place. The stranger I had asked for directions said it was opposite a blue wooden shed. The blue wooden shed was there, but there were no signs for the Golden Star. I had assumed there would be, like any other bar in the city. I walked along the narrow street, past houses and some suspicious children who stopped playing their game to watch me. I hadn’t realised how out of place I must have looked, still in my gown from the presentation earlier in the day

Eventually I came to a small red door. The red paint was chipped and scorch marks littered the panel. A yellow star was painted at the top. This had to be the place, right? It did fit the description I suppose, and for a secret Resistance meetup this was a pretty good place. I looked back at the children, who were still staring, and cautiously tapped on the door.

I could hear music inside, and some chatter though dampened by the large walls encasing the bar inside. I knocked again before deciding just to go in. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

As I opened the door, light poured into the small room and the chatter stopped immediately. The patrons, all of many different species and races, all turned to look at me. Their many eyes flicked over me then landed on the pin on my chest.

“Get her out of here!” A man yelled, grabbing everyone’s attention further. “Imperial scum!”

“What is she doing?” A scandalized Rodian called. More people stood up now, coming closer to me. I immediately regretted my decision, clutching at the pin on my chest in an attempt to hide it. I stepped backwards to find the door away but realised I had walked too far in and instead of a wall, my hand found the front of a very angry looking man. I whimpered and jumped out of his way. The man growled.

“Kill her!”

“He-hey I-I’m not,” I started, shrinking back towards the door as the people crowded around me. I was terrified, and gripped the pin tight trying to stop them pulling it off me. Tears welled up in my eyes and I pressed my back to the door as they came closer. This was a very very bad idea. “I’m sorry!”

“Hey!” Rafan jumped out of nowhere, put his arm over my shoulder. I looked up at him, my heart still rattling against my chest but I was thankful. “Whoa! whoa it’s fine she’s with me,”

“You know the rules, Raf,” The barman called over.

“She’ll take it off, she’s okay I promise,” Rafan turned to me and looked at the pin on my chest. “Give me that and they won’t threaten to kill you, okay?”

“Promise you’ll give it back?” I whispered, “My mother will notice if I lose it,”

“Sure, just not in here,” He nodded. I unclipped the badge and hesitantly handed it to him. My stomach tied itself into knots at the thought of him losing. He took it and flipped in his hand before slotting it in his back pocket, “You all can back off, she’s with me,”

The crowd backed off, returning to their seats. One grumbled something in a language I didn’t understand, from the tone I could tell it wasn’t pleasant, Rafan replied with similar venom. I gave a questioning look to Rafan, who just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

Rafan took me over to a table at the side of the catina. Two people sat at the table, a man and a woman. The woman had dark hair and sharp features with a menacingly stern look on her face as she watched Rafan and I approach. She wore all black, with a coat zipped up to her neck. The man next to her looked a little nicer. He was tall and broad with dark blonde hair that hung just around his ears, he had the shadow of a beard around his jaw and lips, which turned to a smile when he looked up and saw his friend. Rafan sat down with them, next to the man and offered the chair next to him. I sat down obediently, trying my best not to look as scared as I felt.

“Ben, Kal, this is Kyla,” Rafan introduced the people at the table as he sat down.

“Stars above, Raf you do have awful taste in women,” The woman, Kal, sniggered.

“She’s just a friend,” Rafan rolled his eyes.

“Why have you got friends with the Order?” Ben asked, looking me up and down disapprovingly.

“I’m not with the Order,” I said as a sudden wave of confidence coming over me. “I am neutral,”

“If you grew up on Raela, you can’t be neutral,”Kal sneered. “I mean look at you, you’re terrified just talking to us,”

“Leave her alone, Kal. She can’t help it. Her father is Ren Olen, of course she’s going to be scared of us,”

“What do you mean of course I’m scared. I’m not scared,” I protested. The trio laughed at me. “And how’d you know who my father is?”

“Remember where you are kid, we know everything about everyone in Raela City- especially your father,”

“Why would the resistance care about my father? He’s nothing to do with you,”

“Well you should tell that to my brother, or most people in this room really,”

“Kal, come on,”

“My father is not a murderer,” I

“I- just ignore her,” Rafan tried to cover for himself, but anger bubbled up in my stomach.

“No. What did you mean? Tell me,” I said sternly. The trio looked between each other, then down at their drinks, “Maybe my father was right about the resistance afterall, weak and cowardly,” I spat, pushing my chair back and standing up quickly.

“Kyla!” Rafan protested, grabbing my arm to stop me leaving. I pulled away from his reach, stepping away from the table.

“No. I came here because I genuinely thought you might have been the better way. But you’re worse than them. I am risking everything to be here and you make jokes about my father like that! I’m leaving,” I rushed outside, ignoring the chatter and jeers of the patrons as I left, slamming the door behind me as I stepped outside.

A few moments later, Rafan followed me outside. “Kyla, Kyla wait come on,”I span around to yell at him.

“What? Good job humiliating me,” I exclaimed, ”I feel like an idiot! Why did I even come here?”

“Look I’m sorry, Kyla. Just come back inside. I’m sorry,” Rafan pointed back into the Golden Star, holding my hand again.

“Get off me,” I ripped my hand out of his and stumbled backwards. “I should never have come. It’s all a joke. My mother was right, I should join the First Order, or marry an officer,”

“Wait what?” Rafan

“Yeah, that’s why I came here tonight. I thought you could help me make the decision and you did, so good job.” I said sarcastically.

“Kyla you can’t-,”

“Why not? You don’t know me. What is it to you?”

“Come with me, I’ll tell you about anything you want to know. We don’t have to go in there, They’re not usually such assholes, it’s just been a tough few weeks for us all,”

I thought about it for a moment. Rafan seemed so sincere, and he seemed genuinely sorry for what was said. I sighed, and uncrossed my arms.

“Fine, where are we going to go?”

“You’ll see,”

Tentatively, I followed Rafan until we came to a small stone house. He opened the door and showed me inside. It was dark inside so I couldn’t see much and followed Rafan blindly through one room and up some tight twisted stairs. Two flights later, we climbed out onto the roof. The view was stunning.

I could see for miles around the city, as the houses disappeared out into fields of green and yellow crops. The sun was setting, casting the sky a beautiful pink colour. Three moons were barely visible, but would soon become brighter as the light faded and darkness came. I was speechless for a moment, it had been so long since I’d seen the sunset so fully, the view from my home was disrupted by the large buildings of the central city I could barely see the sky. I felt so closed in, but here I felt so free. The world was bigger than the walls of the city.

Rafan and I sat on the edge of the roof and were silent for a moment, enjoying the peace that came with the early evening.

“Ask me anything, anything at all. I know you must have some questions,” Rafan said, still looking out at the view. I smiled wide, happy that I wasn’t being dragged here to be pushed off the roof.

“When did you join the resistance?” I asked tentatively.

“I was seven years old, maybe,”

“That’s so young? What happened?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Parents died, had nowhere else to go and were picked up by a fighter,” He said nonchalantly, I gasped.

“That’s horrible!” I exclaimed, Rafan shrugged, “How did they die?”

“My father was killed by a bounty hunter, my mum killed herself about a year after,”

“I am sorry,” I said sincerely.

“Why? It was nothing to do with you,” Rafan said with a laugh. I frowned.

“And what do you do for the Resistance?”

“I want to be a pilot,” He said, turning to face me. His eyes lit up with excitement, “I’ve been training for a while now and I think I’ll be able to soon. Once I’m back on base,”

“So you don’t live here, on Raela, all the time?”

“No, I’ve been here for about two months now. I’m technically on a mission,”

“Really? What’s the mission?” I said excitedly.

“Classified,” He said seriously, turning to face me now.

“Oh, oh of course,” I slunk back, a little embarrassed. We were silent again.

“Why do you want to know all of this?” Rafan spoke after a moment, “Why did you come to see me? I could have killed you,”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” I settled back on my hands, looking up at the deepening colours of the sky. “I think all my life I’ve been taught that the Republic is wrong and the worst thing to ever happen to the Galaxy, and I don’t know, everything that happened today has made me question that a little. It’s one thing reading about planets being destroyed in the outer rim but hearing people talk about the destruction of the republic and even core worlds who don’t comply. I guess it just made it all a bit more real,” I said, a little embarrassed I looked back out to the countryside, “You must think I’m an idiot,”

“I think you’re a product of your environment,” He turned back to me, looking me directly in the eyes, the intensity of his stare made me uncomfortable but I couldn’t look away, “The fact that you’re questioning it is very admirable,”

“I am risking everything to be here,” I said honestly, “If my father saw me out here…,” I trialled off not even wanting to think about what would happen.

“What? I’m that bad?” Rafan smiled, nudging my arm to bring me back to reality.

“Today, I was introduced to Armatige Hux. He’s on course to be general for the first order.” I said, changing the subject, “My mother is in love with him, she’s desperately trying to get me to marry him,” I shivered at the thought of actually marrying the man

“I’ve heard about him,”

“Awful man, he will make a brilliant General though,”

“Well I look forward to the wedding invite,” Rafan joked. I laughed, and kissed my teeth. The sun was going down now, the orange haze barely visible above the horizon. The lights of the city were turning on, I knew I had to leave. If I didn’t, no doubt my mother would start to panic.

“I have one more question,”

“Yeah?,”

“Do you think what you are doing with the resistance is worth it? Do you believe you can win?”

“Yes. We have to,”

---

The next day I was back at Rafan’s house on the edge of the city. We had agreed on the rooftop the evening before that Rafan would help me join the resistance. It would have to remain a secret, only a few people could know. People on both sides would be outraged if they found out what we were doing.

I had snuck out early in the morning, just as the sun was coming up and took a taxi to get there. Adrenaline was pumping through me a mile a minute, I was not one to sneak out and especially not to see a resistance fighter. We’d had breakfast together, and talked for a while before Rafan decided to start my initiation.

“Okay so if you really want to do this, you’re going to have to learn to fight,” Rafan said. I groaned but stood up from the table and followed him to the centre of the room. Rafan pushed some boxes out the way, and the make-shift couch made of old sacks and clothes scarps to the side of the room.

“Isn’t there something else I could do?” I whined. Rafan frowned and crossed his arms, I didn’t have a choice. “Fine, just promise you won’t hurt me,”

“I won’t hurt you, princess. Don’t worry,” He teased.

“Any more of that and I will punch you in the face,” I snapped as I scowled at him. Raf laughed.

“What? Don’t like being called Princess, Princess?” He teased, a shit eating grin on his face as he stalked around me. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Rafan come on, I don’t want to,” I complained again, turning on the spot to follow him as he paced around.

“Fine I’ll stand still. Just punch me! Go on Princess, you won’t hurt me,” I took a deep breath and nodded then balled my hand up and punched the top of his muscular arm.

“Ow!” I cried, instantly recoiling and cradling my fist. “What are you, made of metal? Stars above!”

“Don’t hold your fist like that, hold it like this,” He showed me the proper position. “And stand like this,” He stood on his toes, with his legs spread one infront of the other stepping towards me. I copied. “Good, now go again,”

“But-,”

“Come on Princess, go!” I punched his palm again. It worked! I squealed as I hit him and quickly stepped back again. Rafan laughed. “Less squealing this time. This is a fight, concentrate,”

“Concentrate,” I muttered, getting back into the stance once again, hitting him again. This time Rafan grabbed my fist. I stopped.

“No! Don’t stop! Go for my body, get free!”

With my free arm, I tried again. I hit him in the stomach, making him let me go and step back. Encouraged, I tried again. Raf wasn’t fighting back which helped but it was encouraging. Eventually we reset and Rafan started to fight back, forcing me to dodge and make a few defensive moves. I wasn’t good but I at least was starting to enjoy myself.

I threw another punch harder than before, determined to throw him off. However, Rafan blocked it and I stumbled backwards. My knees buckled and I fell backwards, and before I could stop myself hit the floor with my shoulder. Pain shot through me and I cried out, clutching it quickly with my opposite arm.

“Shit! Are you alright?” Rafan got down on the ground and helped me to sit up. I winced and nodded.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled through gritted teeth.

“Let me see,” He pulled the collar of my shirt back to look at my shoulder. He carefully ran a finger over it making me shiver. He touched a sensitive part making me hiss. “Sorry,” He whispered.

Being so close to him made my heart race. I watched his face carefully as he looked at my injury. His brow was furrowed, running his fingers over the bruised skin carefully to assess the damage. I could see every detail on his face, noticing for the first time the white scar that ran along his jaw and the bump on the bridge of his nose where it had been broken once before. He carefully pushed my shoulder, making me yelp again. Then he caught me staring.

His dark brown eyes looked directly into my soul. I wanted to look away but I just couldn’t. I could barely breathe as I saw his eyes flick to my lips for a second then back up. A few seconds felt like an eternity. He leant back on his heels, breaking the eye contact and smiled.

“I think you’ll be okay, Princess. I think we’ll leave the fighting for now,” He said as he pushed himself back to standing. He held his hand out for me to pull myself up with. I took a shaking breath, still not sure what had just happened, or nearly happened.

“Hey Raf are you-,” Ben appeared in the room, he stopped still when he saw me there. He looked at me suspiciously, looking between me and Rafan. “What’s she doing here?”

“Don’t start that again Ben,” Rafan chastised, “We were just training, Kyla’s joining the resistance,”

“Well can you stop? We’ve got work to do,” Ben said sternly.

“Y-yeah of course,”

“I should go and ice my shoulder,” I said quickly, gathering my things from the table. “Thanks for helping Raf,”

“Sure. It’s no problem. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I smiled. Ben rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Raf. I stepped around him and left the house.

“You’re insane, Raf. Truly,”

I walked back home, deciding to take advantage of the fine weather. I tried to force Ben’s words out of my head, but his attitude towards me was well founded, to his credit. What was I doing there, really? I had no doubt in my mind that Ben thought I was a spy, and Rafan probably believed that too. Yet, he still wanted to help me. Then, I thought of that moment. The look in his eyes, I was so close to kissing him the idea of it made butterflies swarm in my stomach. I shook my head, I wasn’t there for him. He could look like a Hutt and I would still be there. I wanted to join the resistance! I wanted to make a difference! The fact that Rafan was so nice to me, and so handsome was merely a bonus.

Eventually, I made it home. I’d made a quick stop at a bakery on the way, if my mother had noticed I’d been gone all morning fresh bread would soothe her. I opened the door and was met by the usual silence of the house. I walked through the house, dropping the bread onto the kitchen counter and picked up the datapad on the table to read anything that had happened since I’d left this morning.

“Where have you been today?” My mother’s voice interrupted my reading, making me jump. She was uncharacteristically stern, making me look up immediately.

“Huh?”

“We were meant to be going to the senate today? Remember?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot!”

“And I asked Sam where you were and she didn’t know either,” She put her hands on her hips, “I thought we agreed that if you want a little more freedom around here, you have to tell the droids where you’re going,”

“Yes Mother I’m sorry,” I sighed. She walked around the counter and inspected the package of bread then sighed and smiled at me. She was never cross for long. Then a curious look came across her face and she came closer.

“What?”

“Is that a bruise?” She pulled the neck of my shirt back, revealing the blue bruise on my shoulder. “How did you get that?”

“Hit it on the shelf,” I lied quickly. My mother tutted and let it go.

“Well, you’re lucky it’s not visible,” She sighed, “You’ve got an important dinner coming up soon you can’t be looking so rough,”

“What do you mean about an important dinner?”

“I set up dinner with Armitage,” She said matter of factly. My jaw dropped.

“W-why would you do that? I said I wasn’t sure about-”

“Well I think you’d make a great pair, darling and frankly I think you just need to get out there! You can’t live here forever you know. You need a husband, I think Armitage would make you very happy,”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow,”

“Why didn’t you ask me first? I’ve got plans for tomorrow,”

“Well how am I meant to know if you won’t tell me anything!” She exclaimed. “I’ve barely spoken to you in the past few weeks!”

“Can’t you reschedule it?”

”What are you even doing?” She continued, ignoring my question, “You haven’t left the house in months then suddenly you’re going out all day?”

“I-I’m just with some friends,”

“How come I’ve never met these friends?”

“They’re new friends,” I lied, quickly trying to think of something that she would like. “I- uh I met them at the Order presentation,”

“Oh!” Her concerned look instantly dropped to a smile, “That’s wonderful darling. For a moment there I was worried you were off with some nasty rebellion kids! You know I heard on the holo-net that there’s a large rebel group settling on Raela now. How they got here I’ll never know,”

“Don’t be silly, mother. I’d never,” I laughed.

“Well just tell your new friends that you have to reschedule. I’m sure they will be fine with it! Especially if you say who it is,” She grinned and kissed my cheek as she walked past me. I grimaced but forced a smile for her.

“Sure,”

“Oh I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. If I was your age I’d be all over that man!”

“I’m sure Father would love to hear that,” I called after her, laughing a little myself now. My mother barked a laugh, shrugging it off as she left the room.

Once she was gone, I relaxed. What had I got myself into now?

---

A/N: I could write Rafan forever, I love him so much!! What do you guys think?? Let me know!!

tagging:

@dracos-jedi-marvel @buckysbeloved @cajunquandary @brujademente @waatermelon-sugaar @anstarwar @this-cat-is-dea @seafrost-fangirl @grincheveryday @dindjarinsleftvambrace @girlreadsfanfic

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jaeminlore · 4 years

Text

The Sun Shines in the Knight | Mark Lee

playlist

summary: golden, as i open my eyes. hold it, focus, hoping; take me back to the light. — golden, harry styles. / mark doesn't want to fall in love, but he doesn't want to be forgotten, either.

words: 4.05k+

category: knight!mark x gardener!reader, gender neutral reader, mark is on the ace/aro spectrum but idk how to label it, mark is in love with the sun.

warning(s): injuries, anxiety

a/n: this is lowkey inspired by me and my friend but its also taken a mind of it's own

The sun is the last think Mark sees on the battlefield. Just as his back hits the damp grass and his ears ring in the anticipation of a long nap (read: a concussion) he sees the sun pulse in his vision, brighter and brighter until he succumbs to his injury.

The sun is, coincidentally, the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the healer's room. There's a bandage around his bare torso to cover a particularly nasty blade wound, and a thin scab across his jaw. The only window in the room, high and arched, serves as a direct viewing of the sun in all of her glory. The rays warm his skin, and for a moment, he thinks about going back to sleep.

His head pounds when he closes his eyes, though, and he figures it'd be better to get up and force his blood to do some circulating.

The healer — Jaemin — isn't in the room, and so Mark decides he isn't under any important watch that would force him to stay cooped up all day.

He sits up, the anticipated curl of his spine sends an immediate zip of pain through his ribs, and Mark groans aloud, having forgot what a broken rib feels like.

But the sun moves to his shoulders, and the feeling is euphoric, so he braves the pain in favor of visiting the garden. There has to be a hidden patch of grass somewhere, sun kissed and waiting to be slept upon.

Mark briefly pauses in his journey to take a detour into the kitchen, where he fills up a wooden cup with cool water directly from the pump. He drinks three full glasses before he decides he's properly hydrated, then he slowly makes his way to the back garden, side-stepping the noble children who run around the roses while their mothers attend afternoon tea.

The royal garden has many sections: a garden for the kitchen, where vegetables are grown, a flower garden for the royal florist, color coded for easy arrangements. There's an herbal garden just for Jaemin and his peers, for balms and potions alike. There's a fruit orchard too, but it's past the garden wall, closer to the abundance of the lake and the clear water it produces.

The garden wall itself is somewhat of a maze. While the outer is a high stone gate, made to keep intruders out, the following layers are made of thick shrubbery that are often clipped into different shapes. Then there are hedges, planted to be somewhat of a maze for privacy. It's often in the maze that nobles walk with their suitors, or where strategists discuss their, well, strategies.

Mark dives into the maze and searches for whatever empty landing he can find. After sidestepping a few appalled nobles (apparently a beaten-up knight dressed in nothing but bandages and cotton is not what one wants to see during tea time, but Mark doesn't exactly know where his shirt is, so) he finds a patch of clovers. The weeds are plentiful, and a bright emerald green that makes Mark feel happy for no reason. The sun shines down on the overgrown patch, and Mark realizes that the patch is already occupied by a small rabbit. It's a grey cottontail, one he's seen a few times in the garden. He's sure it belongs to one of the gardeners, or is at least comfortable enough with them to hang out so much. Mark knows rabbits don't particularly like people.

The rabbit in question is munching on a clover, it's little pink nose twitching as it does so.

Mark decides that he'll risk it, so he approaches the patch anyways, and lies down on his back, letting the sun blanket him.

(He can hear the rabbit's clicking as he falls asleep.)

"Oh, hi." It's your voice that wakes Mark up from his dreamless slumber. He's surprised to find that it's already sundown when he wakes, and his body is still just as weak as it was when he fell asleep. Maybe moreso now (what is Jaemin always chiding him for? Heat exhaustion?) At least he drank enough water to stay hydrated throughout everything.

It takes him a few moments to get reoriented with his surroundings. And finally, he remembers your presence; curves his neck to see where you've gone off to.

You're still there, in a shirt that's far too big for you. The collar nearly hangs off of your shoulder, showcasing your soil-stained collarbones. You're not paying attention to him anymore, not that Mark really expected you to.

You pick up the rabbit instead, chiding it in quiet an exasperated voice as you warn him about being in the sun for too long. (Maybe you and Jaemin would get along.)

"'M sorry," Mark mumbles out, stumbling over his dry mouth and his slow-to-rouse brain. He finally sits up, his ribs still screaming in protest, and he looks at you.

You gaze back at him, the grey rabbit snuggled close to your chest. You're not smiling. You look uncomfortable, if anything, and Mark hesitates to keep talking to you.

But you speak first. "Why are you apologizing? You have every right to sleep outside."

The tone in your voice makes Mark feel warm inside. It's hardly judgmental, bordering between disconcertment and daring. There's hesitance in your words. Your voice wavers as you assure him he can hang out as long as he needs to, and Mark wonders if you're making up these rules for him, or for you.

"I should head back to Jaemin and get my bandages changed," he says matter-of-factly, like you care or asked.

"Okay." You blink at him, and although the sun is setting, Mark can still he it's reflection in your eyes. He wonders if you know that the sun is attracted to you.

(He thinks it'd be weird to ask. No one else thinks about the sun as much as him, so it might sound less like a compliment and more like a creepy overstep. Mark never wants to overstep.)

Getting back into training is harder than Mark thought it should be. Sure, it's been months, and his wounds have healed completely, but he still has visions of the battlefield, still gets anxious at the sound of a blade, and lately he's been longing for something more peaceful.

He's not trying to be selfish. Really, he loves knighthood. He loves protecting his kingdom and helping the innocent. It's all he ever wanted to do since he was young. And sure, he's gotten older and more solemn, but it doesn't change the fact that he's halfway there. He's still a young knight, just years past being a squire, and he still has so much to prove and so much to learn.

He absorbs information like a sponge. He practices his moves until daybreak, often slumping into his bed without so much as a bath or a meal to heal his aching bones. He does everything he can to please his captain and fellow teammates. The thought of their disappointment shatters him already. Anxiety floods his veins at the mere thought of them disapproving of his actions.

That's precisely why he doesn't tell anyone he's slowly breaking on the inside. It's nothing he can't handle. Nothing he hasn't been through before. Only this time it's not well hidden in the privacy of his bunk. This time it's starkly noticeable in the way he flinches at every swing of the blade, every clang of a shield against a suit, every shrill call to order from his captain.

He falls again, the sun both his enemy and closest friend as he's chided once again about the dangers of dehydration.

His mouth is too dry to tell his captain that it isn't dehydration at all. It's anxiety, and the fear that this feeling is going to be his forever. He kind of wants to go to sleep and never wake up, but even that thought brings on shame.

He closes his eyes, feels the sun burn against his eyelids, and wills it to burn him up, if just to let him feel something.

You're in the clover patch again. Not again, because Mark hasn't seen you since the first time and it's been months, but again, because he sees you now, and the days blur so easily in his mind nowadays that he really feels like he just saw you yesterday.

You have a basket in your hand, and you're gathering bunches of clover with precise care, ignoring his presence. Mark figures you just don't hear him, but he sees your gaze flit to him and he realizes you're avoiding acknowledgment on purpose.

Mark supposed this is where he leaves.

Only he doesn't, because he's drowsy beneath the afternoon sun, and this is the only place he can go where he won't be chided for his rash decisions.

(The sunburn on his chest is actually healing nicely, thank you very much.)

"What do you use so many clovers for?" He asks, eyes hesitant when they meet yours.

You look shocked that he's speaking to you. Not in an appalled way, but more like you expected him to ignore you altogether.

Mark doesn't want to ignore you; never really has.

"Jaemin asked me to." So you already know Jaemin. "For cough syrup."

"Ah." Mark doesn't know what to say. He doesn't want you to think he's done talking to you, but he's horribly awkward at things like this. Talking. Friendship. Whatever is going on here.

"You fainted today," you say. "Maybe you shouldn't be out in the sun so much."

"Oh, it wasn't because of the sun," Mark amends. He sits down, away from the clover patch so he won't disrupt your progress. "I get anxious when I fight now. That's all."

"You were anxious enough to pass out?" You ask him, and then your voice gets lower as you seem to answer yourself, "Well yeah, I guess increased blood flow would make you pass out. That was stupid to ask."

"Not stupid," Mark says. He doesn't know what else to say though.

It's a weird in-between place of wanting to talk to you and having nothing to say. He decides maybe he should just dive into the deep end. "Ever since the last battle... it's been hard for me to keep up. I'm afraid of swords now, which shouldn't happen, but I guess something in my brain got triggered when I was wounded, and now swords connect with pain. They've always been connected with pain though, so it shouldn't be new. It's just new to me."

You hum. It's enough for Mark to know you listened. He thinks maybe you're good at listening, even if your only reply is a solemn hum. Then, "You can't help it if you have trauma in your life. It's expected since you're a knight, but don't push it down so much that you fall ill."

"Yeah." He says. "I won't."

(He doesn't. And sometimes he does. It really depends on the days, but he's trying, and somehow he thinks that's all you meant for him to do.)

Mark is always around so many people. He thinks about it on his birthday, when Jaemin takes him and all of his fellow knights to the nearby inn for drinks. Mark feels the numb sting of a person who has many companions but no one to confide in. He takes it in stride; always has, but it burns down his throat along with the whiskey.

He watches Johnny flirt with the innkeeper, and when the tall man comes back with keys to the nicest room, he gives them to Mark. A "Happy Birthday, man." on the top of his tongue.

Everyone howls, their minds going to dirty places, and Mark has to quiet them down by saying he doesn't want to have sex tonight. Or any night for that matter. Everything in his chest burns from the laughter he receives in turn, along with the assurance that he'll get intimate when the right person comes along.

He visits you the next morning and recounts the tale.

"Some people don't want sex," you say. There's a surety in your voice that makes Mark wish you were with him last night, if only to defend him. He doesn't want to be selfish, though — doesn't want you to think he's only using you for his own benefit — so he leaves with his thoughts and the sun on his back.

Your schedules don't really coincide. Mark never sees you; not in the audience at jousts, or in the kitchen during meal time. He knows the both of you are in completely different sectors of the castle — your presence is really only mandatory in the garden, while Mark's is mandatory everywhere the king is.

But sometimes Mark thinks about you during jousting tournaments, when he gets a high score but no one praises him for it. It's just expected of him, and yet he wishes there was someone to praise him for his hard work. It's not easy doing what he does, especially when he has so much anxiety doing it.

He wants to find you. He wants to breathe in your presence— wants to ask you if you think about him too, in the spaces between obligation and freedom. In the moments where you can be whoever you wish.

He wonders if you picture him.

The sunburn on his shoulders makes his skin itch more than usual, and Mark thinks about taking a swim in the lake to clear his mind.

He stands on the dock, mind foggy with the what-ifs and the how-tos and the imagine-if-Y/n-ever-thought-about-yous. He hesitates to take off his shirt, because left in only his cotton shorts he feels vulnerable. The scars that mark up his chest make him feel weak, like he's never been enough, and he'll never be enough so long as his skin doesn't clear.

He doesn't feel like a man. Never really has. In his mind he is still a child playing pretend, and life is catching up to him, all too quickly and all too harshly for him to prepare for whats to come.

The sun reflects on the surface of the lake. Shadows of minnows and frogs pass beneath him, and Mark finally loses his shirt.

He dives in, feeling the slimy seaweed wrap around his ankles almost immediately. And yeah, it's uncomfortable, but it beats his leather boots and the sweat that builds up after a full day of practice.

A small frog hops onto his shoulder, frightening him, but it dives back into the water just as quickly, so Mark focuses on calming his breathing.

"Mark Lee," you call out.

Mark slips on the seaweed and falls back into the water. He closes his eyes tightly and lets himself break the surface. He feels his cheeks flood with heat, and he wonders if the sun can penetrate the water.

"Hi," he says softly. Water drips off of his eyelashes. Drops land on his cupid's bow and stay there as he stares at you.

Maybe you could feel him thinking about you. Maybe he sent some kind of cosmic energy out into the world, and you sensed it.

Maybe fate just works in mysterious ways.

Mark doesn't know what to say. He watches you sit on the dock and take off your shoes. You dip your toes into the water and smile at him. It's a bigger smile than he normally receives, and Mark feels like maybe you're opening up to him. He feels really good, and he isn't sure if it's the sunny daze or your warm gaze.

Maybe it's both.

Mark decides that he wants to hold you. Maybe it's too romantic a thought; maybe it's not romantic enough, but it sears his eyelids, and when he closes his eyes he can feel his hands splayed at your waist.

Yes, it's too romantic of a thought.

The sun is glaring now, taunting him. It's as if he doesn't know that he's failing in every way, staring at you without saying anything. He wants to reach out and ask you for advice on anything. Everything. He wants to get you talking; thinking about him, even just for a few minutes, but it's hard when he can't find his voice.

His shoulders itch again. He takes it as a sign. "Do you know any- uh- plants to help with sunburn?"

You smile even brighter somehow, and the sun is behind you now, mocking him as it rings a halo over your head. The light romanticizes you in a way Mark doesn't think he can. He doesn't think he's capable of it, but he longs for you.

He longs for you harmlessly, and his heart aches at the thought of you out of his life. Despite your monthly appearances, they mean more to Mark than he realizes most of the time. And he wants to tell you that he'd like to see you more often. Monthly greetings could turn into weekly meetings. He could see you more— bask in your presence; your light. He wants to drown in the way your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He wants to fall apart at the sound of your laughter.

He wants to love you, and he knows he isn't quite capable of love. Not in the way his mother expects him to be. Not in the way his friends expect him to be. Certainly not in the way he expects of himself. And yet, some selfish part of him hopes it will be enough for you. He hopes more than anything that one day you might accept what little love he can offer amongst the busyness of his life. Amongst the closed doors of his heart.

"Aloe vera," you say. "There's some one the healer's room, even though Jaemin is out for the week."

Mark finds a piece of himself feelings rather jealous at the fact that you seem to always know Jaemin's schedule. Why can't you know his?

"Okay," he says. "I'll ask him for some when he returns."

"I have a key." You stand up. "Come on, I'll find you some."

Mark stumbles his way out of the water, slipping twice on seaweed and three times over his words. "You really don't have to." He buttons his shirt over his scars, ears burning red because he can sense you looking at him. Studying him like you're hoping to find something amiss.

Mark follows you to the healer's room. When you order him to sit down, he obeys.

"Here," you hand him a jar of clear goop. "Rub this on your burns until they go away. And if you need any more, come find me."

Come find me.

Your words still ring in his head that night, as he applies more aloe to his body. He wants to come find you tomorrow, and he wants you to stay with him the entire day. He wants to hear about what goes around in your head and in your heart.

He wants to break the wall between the two of you and reach out; touch your soul and find that his is the same.

Mark stays awake until the sun comes up.

Beneath the lemon tree, you lay half-asleep. You stroke your rabbit's head and hum a tune, something you heard a long time ago. Maybe in a lullaby or an old shanty.

The sun is far too hot for you, which is why you've found a place in the shade.

You can hear the sounds of swords clanking against each other. Despite your reluctance, you think of Mark, and you wonder if he's doing alright. With his anxiety, and the way he's prone to accidents, you tend to worry about him a lot.

As much as he might think he's hiding it, Mark is a perfectionist just as much as he's a worrier. The two are more than likely related, but they double up in your brain as reasons to reach out to the boy every so often.

You aren't even sure Mark likes you. Like, as in, just enjoying your presence. Mark always seems a little too nervous; a little too eager to leave when he's around you.

You're sure it's you: the only common denominator in every situation.

Mark has a lot on his plate; he's got so much to deal with and so much he puts on himself.

You want to help, but you aren't sure where your place is in Mark's life. You could just be a passing soul; not an actual friend. You don't know, and you don't know the protocol for asking.

You told him to come find you if he ran out of aloe, but does that mean he isn't allowed to find you otherwise? You've only given him an option, and yet it doesn't feel like enough. It feels like maybe he won't visit you at all.

The sound of practice ceases, though your mind doesn't know if it's because practice is over or if it's because you're nearly asleep.

You wake up, and Mark is sitting a little ways off, clicking his tongue at the rabbit. He doesn't notice you've waken up.

"Hi," you say. "You found me."

Mark looks up, mouth open in a shocked expression. His neck is still red from the sun; and it creeps down onto the skin of his bare collarbones. "I didn't- I didn't see you there. Your shirt is the same color as the grass."

"Huh?" In your sleepy daze, you look down at your sleeve and notice that is does match the ground. Maybe Mark really didn't notice you. Maybe this is all fate. "Oh. Sorry then."

"No!" Mark crosses his legs. "No! Uh, I wanted to find you. I just thought you wanted me to wait until I was finished with the aloe."

"That was just an excuse," you say sheepishly.

Mark is in his uniform (sans the jerkin). Leather pants and a violet shirt, untied at the chest. His skin is still colored, but it seems a bit more pink than the bright red it was yesterday. "It's been working then?"

Mark looks down at his chest and clothed shoulders and nods. "Yeah, uh— It's been working. So, uh, what are you doing here?"

"I'm just taking a nap away from the sun," you say. You roll onto your back and look up, eyes locked at the giant star that shines through the lemon tree leaves.

"Why would you want to be away from the sun?" Mark narrows his eyes, shoulders hunched over as he reaches for the rabbit.

"Her name is Garnet," you say. "And the sun is harmful. It can hurt your skin and your eyes. It's better to stay cool."

Mark picks up Garnet and snuggles her into his chest. "I don't think I could ever stay away from the sun. I love the warmth."

"Seems so," you murmur. Mark seems to exude warmth. Seems to radiate the sun itself, like Apollo personally kissed his shoulders; his cheeks; his lips, and Mark shines more golden than the sun at times. Especially when he smile, he seems to personify the sunbeams. "You should stay here with me."

"In the shade?"

"Lay beneath the sun," you reach your hand out.

Mark looks surprised, his golden eyes shining with a sort of gleam that rivals the lake surface. He lays down beside you in the sun and takes your hand in his. "Okay."

You smile, heart full at the action, and even though Mark seems sleepy, you will yourself to stay awake and immortalize each moment in your memory.

And when his breathing slows; when you think he's finally asleep, he turns on his side and faces you. "Is this... Is this enough for you?"

Something unsaid slips between his words, like finality. Like, this may be all you'll ever get, and he wants to know if it's enough.

You smile at him. You can the sun in the reflection of his eyes; feel the soft grass beneath your skin; the warmth of Mark's hand in yours.

"This is more than enough."

#dreamwritersnet #mark lee scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct mark fluff #nct mark angst #nct mark scenarios #superm mark fluff #superm mark angst #superm mark scenarios #destwrites

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yanjuniverse · 4 years

Text

Jelly - CAI XUKUN One Shot

[a/n: i miss cai xukun pls try not to cringe too hard at my oneshot] / master list

You sigh, stepping into the same place where it all started two years ago.

You still remember the first day of it all. When a hundred boys all hustled and bustled, struggling to find the correct dorms and get all of their things up the stairs in one trip. You remember how loud they all were, all excited and beaming and so ready for what was to come in the next months.

You remember the auditions, the eliminations, the hours of hard work, the laughter, the cheers, the tears and the heartbreak.

But above all, you remember one particular boy.

You don’t know how the two of you got close. You were just another staff member in charge of interviews and he was just another contestant on the show.

Well, to say that he was just “another contestant” would be an understatement.

Cai Xukun - the golden boy of Idol Producer season one. The boy who had the world in the palm of his hand from his first steps on stage.

You were close to many of the contestants. A lot of the boys knew you because you would walk around handing out snacks after the Yanchen incident to make sure they would at least eat something - even if it was just a simple pack of jellies.

You two always met like this - him sitting on the floor writing lyrics and you squatting in front of him with a packet of jellies waving in front of his face. He’d always have the same soft smile on his face as he would look up and whisper, “Hey Jelly.”

The first time he called you Jelly, it made you scrunch your nose up in confusion. You remember him motioning to the candies and the laughter that followed after. Since that day, he’d always refer to you as Jelly. You remember how the name would slip from his lips as he talked with other trainees and the slight tinge of annoyance that would cross his face whenever someone else would try to use the pet name. It eventually became a name that only he would use. You couldn’t even think about jellied candies anymore without his smile crossing your mind as well.

As the show ended and his (much predicted) debut took place, you quietly went back to Korea for work but kept in touch.

You couldn’t deny that there was something there. With the random stolen kisses every time you visited or the nights that ended with cuddles and pillow talk. But you knew that Xukun had bigger things to worry about and so did you. Your careers came first. But that didn’t stop you two from meeting up when you’d come to China or he’d come to Korea.

Though there were no labels, you still felt guilty going out with others and hadn’t even thought of kissing anyone besides him ever since the two of you met.

You still hadn’t told him that you were back to work on the newest version of Produce with him. You walked down the familiar halls and into the interview room when you saw him. He was already getting ready alongside Lisa.

You had to admit, your smile dropped just a bit as you watched the two interact. It had been months since the last time you and Xukun talked because of your busy schedules but did you really have room to say anything? You two were nothing official. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you that there were no labels.

You silently worked in the background, buzzing around when you heard their laughter getting louder.

Stop it, you told yourself.

“Okay, let’s get everything in place!” the director shouted. “Xukun, Lisa! Places please!”

You took your place this time to jot down everything they said. During season one, you’d be the one to ask the questions but you decided that you weren’t really in the state of mind to talk.

You’re writing furiously - Xukun is rambling about some memory he had from season one. You want to smile at the thoughts of you teasing him late at night for going on and on about something so simple. You’re almost too lost in thought that you don’t realize he’s stopped talking until you hear him sharply intake.

“Jelly?” he whispers.

You look up slowly and clear your throat. “Xukun,” you nod. “The interview.”

He shakes his head instantly and goes back to what he was saying. You don’t comment on the cramp developing in your hand from how fast you’re writing due to his increased pace. You know he’s trying to get the interview over with as quickly as possible. You glance up at some point and see the confused look on Lisa’s face as well. You decide not to look up again for the rest of the interview.

As soon as the director calls cut, Xukun and Lisa are forced to move to the next set for filming. You hear him protest. He’s saying he forgot something but they tell him he can come back for it. After all, he’ll be here all day. You don’t look up from your notes until you hear his voice fading along with his footsteps.

You go about the day, interviewing the girls and doing your best to keep up. You almost forgot how hectic it was. Flashes of season one cross your mind as you think of flirty Lin Yanjun and the trouble making Qin boys. You think of the time Linong cried over his ranking and when Zhou Rui screamed as he moved up classes. How times have changed since then.

It’s during lunch that you finally catch a break.

You’re sitting on the steps, looking down on your phone when you hear it — the crinkle of plastic and the figure of someone squatting down in front of you.

“Hey Jelly,” he whispers. You slowly look up at him, your words getting caught in your throat. After all these years, Xukun still looks as ethreal as ever. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.” Yeah, I didn’t. Because you wanted it to be a surprise but now you’re thinking about how stupid you looked for trying to surprise someone who probably didn’t even care in the first place. You stare at him for a second before you sigh and stand up. You try to walk away when he catches your arm and spins you around, frowing. “Why are you pouting?” he asks. “I’ve missed you and you’re acting like this.”

“Xukun, I-“

“Come,” he says, moving his hand down to hold yours. “Before a camera catches us.”

Your heart cracks again at that because it reminds you that no matter how many times you wake up next to him, no matter how many kisses you steal, no matter how much you fantasize about it, the two of you will never be.

You’re not Lisa. You’re not an idol. You’re a nobody. Xukun has a reputation to uphold.

“Kun,” you mutter, slipping your hand out of his. “I-I-“

“What?” he frowns. “Did you not miss me?”

“Xukun, I-I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This,” you gesture, letting go of his hand. “The sneaking around, the whispered conversations, the late nights and early goodbyes, never knowing when’s the next time I’m gonna see you, going months without speaking. Aren’t you tired of this?” you ask. “Aren’t you tired of wasting each other’s time?”

He stands there, face unreadable and for a moment, you almost think he’s going to leave.

So when he breaks into a smile and cups your cheek, you jump in surprise.

“Jelly,” he smiles, bending down to be level with you. “Is that what you think I am? A waste of your time?” Your frown becomes deeper. Is he really making fun of me right now? He chuckles. “Jelly,” he says again, waiting for you to meet his eyes. “Remember what I said to you? The night I debuted?”

Honestly, you don’t remember a lot of what happened that night. The entire production team had been so busy and you remember that as soon as it ended, bottles were being popped and you didn’t even get to do Xukun’s final interview as Jieqiong and Cheng Xiao whisked you away to have a drink with them.

But at his words, a sudden blur of the two of you standing in front of the dorms play out as he beings to speak.

“I did it, Jelly. I debuted. And like you, my career is always going to come first. But I want you to know now that I like you. A lot. So if there is any chance of us having a future together, I’ll take it. I’ll take you in any form that you’ll give me.”

You blush, turning your head away from him and huffing.

“I don’t mean to waste your time, love,” he says. “So if you want me to give up music-“

“Don’t,” you immediately cut him off, huffing at how dramatic he can be sometimes. He laughs at this. Cute, he thinks.

“Jelly, I haven’t been able to call but that doesn’t mean I don’t think of you every night. It’s been a month-“

“It’s been two-“

“It’s been one month, three weeks, and two days since the last time we’ve spoken,” he states a matter of factly. “And I’m sorry about that. I really am. I’ve been so busy lately.” You still look up at him, pouting. He sighs. “How do you want me to make it up to you? Hm?” You’re not sure. In fact, you were slowly beginning to forget why you were upset in the first place as the his smell becomings intoxicating to you. It was one of the things you always hated about him. It’s like he knew he had a spell over you that prevented you from being mad at him for too long. “C’mon, Jelly. I can only say sorry in so many ways.”

“Oh!” a voice says, startling you. You try to pull away but Xukun wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, Xukun!”

“Hey Lisa,” he smiles.

“Is this her?” she excitedly points at you. “YN?” He nods proudly, tightening his grip on you. “Hi!” Lisa waves, grinning. “I’m Lisa! I’ve heard so much about you. Me and Xukun have been walking around all day and every corner has a memory of Jelly this or Jelly that. I was getting worried he might have been making you up until he showed me your pictures together!”

“Our pictures?” you look up at him.

“Ah! You’re so lucky!” Lisa gushes. “If I had someone in love with me as Xukun-“

Xukun clears his throat loudly. “Uh, right! Well, Lisa. I’m gonna take Jelly over here to grab something from the store. See you in like thirty minutes?”

With that, he quickly hauls you out the door and into the biting cold.

“In love with me, huh?” you knock into his side, teasing. Xukun blushes. “Cai Xukun, how are you going to tell Lisa that you love me way before you tell me that you love me?”

“I tell you I love you all the time,” he groans. “Don’t you see my posts where I write ‘I love Jelly’ or stuff like that?”

“How could I have possibly known those were about me? If anything, I would’ve thought they were about the actual candies.” you snort.

He stops suddenly. It’s so cold outside that you could see his breath coming out in little steaming clouds. He brings your hands into his and shakes his head. “I love you, YN. Okay? And I have loved you since the day we met. I know you think this is a waste of time but I thought that if we didn’t have labels that it would hurt you less. But for me, it’s always been you. It’s always going to be you. And I love you, YN.”

“I love you too, Xukun.”

He swoops down, pressing his lips against yours. You smile into the kiss before quickly remembering where you were.

“Xukun. Someone is gonna see us-“

“I don’t care,” he says. “I don’t want to waste your time anymore.”

You scrunch your nose, patting his chest. “Ew. When did you get so sweet like this?”

He scoffs, “I was trying to make a cute scene for you, Jelly!”

You playfully push him. “You don’t have to risk it all for me.”

“For you, I’d risk it all.”

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rose-of-gabriel · 4 years

Text

i wrote a fic about the Mandalorian taking care of you while you menstruate bc i can

that’s where we’re at rn

You have a personal bone to pick with whatever laser-brain designed the human female. Let’s make it continuously bleed for a quarter of every month, and since that isn’t enough of a pain, let’s add actual pain on top of that. Genius.

You bite your lip and try to focus on successfully landing the Razor Crest. Mando’s cashing in on three separate bounties, which should give you enough credits to take it easy for a while. Well, as easy as the Mandalorian can take it. You suspect his pace was even more ruthless before he found the kid, but fatherhood has forced him to relent, just a little.

You really don’t mind his lifestyle. Anything is better than that mind-numbing mechanics job back on Nevarro, though the stabbing pain in your gut makes you miss the old shack you called home. No one around to judge you for collapsing in on yourself and praying for death.

That’s how Mando finds you: in the pilot’s chair, folded in half with your head on your knees. You don’t bother to look up as you grumble, “Ready to go?”

He doesn’t respond right away, probably deciding whether or not he should be concerned. You realize that this is the first time he’s seen you like this. Your implant makes it so you only bleed every three months, and you’ve been traveling together for almost four. The part of you that is harboring a completely futile crush on the Mandalorian wants to melt into the floor. The rest of you can’t be bothered to care, knowing that if it doesn’t concern his kid, his work, or his creed, he doesn’t care, anyway.

When he still doesn’t answer, you slowly lift you head to meet his metal gaze. You try to offer a smile, but the lights of the cockpit make your head pulse and it turns into a grimace.

The baritone of his voice reveals nothing when he asks, “You okay?”

No, you want to growl between your teeth. You don’t, because if there’s one person in the universe you know you shouldn’t complain to, it’s the Mandalorian.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You close your eyes and take a purposeful breath through your nose. “Are there any heat packs left in the medkit?”

“No. I think we used them up when the kid had that cold.”

Kriffing aces.

“Okay, I’ll add it to the list.” You sag deeper into the chair. “We shouldn’t go so long between supply trips, next time.”

“No one was stopping you when we were on Malthor.” He says with a hint of mockery.

You wave a dismissive hand. “That was all merchants and you know I can’t haggle for shit.”

He blows out a breath, the closest thing you get to making him laugh. It’s a small victory that nearly makes you forget the demon attacking your uterus.

You haul yourself out of the pilot’s seat and the protests from you body must be so loud even the Mandalorian can hear, because he takes a step forward and insists, “What’s wrong?”

You start to say it’s nothing when he takes yet another step, getting closer than you’ve ever dared to. Gods, you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath catches.

“I’ve spent my whole life watching people.” He says in a tone you’ve never heard before, equal parts menacing and tender. It makes your gut twist in a completely different way. Then he adds dryly, “And you’ve got about as much subtlety as a rancor.”

You deflate.

“Yeah, yeah, piss off.” You mutter under your breath. Then in a huff, you admit, “It’s menstrual pain. You happy? Nothing I haven’t dealt with before so let’s go.”

You’re through the hatch faster than you need to be, the awkwardness burning under your skin. You busy yourself with the kid’s cradle, making sure he’s secure despite there being nothing to actually secure him with. The child tilts his little head at you like he can sense your embarrassment.

“Hey, Bug.” You whisper conspiratorially, “Don’t look at me like that.”

He lets out a string of nonsense that sounds a lot like you’re the one acting weird, although you may just be projecting. Mando drops down from the cockpit and you suddenly remember you need to check every single pocket of your day pack, just to make sure everything is where you left it.

“Is it bad?”

The question surprises you, and you’re not really sure why. It’s not because he cares. You know there’s a heart underneath all that beskar. It’s something in his voice, a gentleness that isn’t like the kind he uses with the kid.

After a moment, your neurons decide to fire again and you manage to say, “No. I mean, mine are pretty heavy, and the pain is sometimes a lot, and the migraines really suck but oh my gods, I can’t believe I am talking to you about this.” Or that you just said that part out loud.

You spin on your heel, all attempts at subtly flying out the window as you activate the kid’s pram. “Ready to go, Bug?” You squeak, cheeks burning.

You reach for the control panel to lower the ramp when Mando takes your hand and pulls you around to face him. You can’t think of anything other than kriffkriffkriffkriffkriff, heart hammering against your ribs so hard he must be able to see it.

There’s a torturous moment of silence before he says, “You stay here with the kid. I’ll go to town and get what we need.”

That brings your panic to a screeching halt. “But… you have to turn in the quarries.”

“I’ll collect the credits then head to the shopping district.”

All your nerves start to dissipate in the wake of a very familiar spite. “Mando, I’m not a liability. I don’t need to stay behind.”

A nagging voice reminds you that there’s no way to sound tough when talking to the kriffing Mandalorian, but something shifts. There’s the slightest dip of his helmet that makes you think you’ve surprised him, that he’s looking at you through new eyes.

“I know you can handle yourself.” He says carefully, like he’s worried about getting this wrong. “This isn’t an emergency, though. Just… just let me go. Try to feel… better.”

There’s something in his voice that helps you know it isn’t a judgement, that he’s not offering because he thinks you’re some stupid flower that needs protected. He’s just a friend who sees your pain and wants to help, in whatever small way he can.

You do smile, this time, though quickly squash it in favor of a very serious-business-face. “Okay, fine. Let me help you unload the quarries, at least.”

Once that’s done, you sit on the loading ramp with Bug and watch the Mandalorian leave for as long as you can before the pulsing behind your eyes becomes too much. Leaving the ramp lowered, you shut the bay doors and find your data pad, searching for a kid-friendly holo that Bug will like. He’s going through a phase where anything to do with water excites him. You lay out your bedroll and set the kid up with a Mon Cala cartoon, his ears perking up in approval.

After he’s situated, you skulk off to the fresher. Luckily, you have a decent stash, so you don’t have to ask the Mando-fucking-lorian to buy you menstrual products. The Crest’s medkit is pretty sparse, though, and most of what you do have is either for field injuries or baby stuff. You toss back some child’s pain killers and go to curl up with the kid, keeping your eyes shut tight against the barrage of colorful animations.

By the time Mando comes back, you’re both only half awake. Without a word, he scoops the child from your arms and settles him in the bassinet that Kuiil made. You don’t try to move, just listen as the Mandalorian flits about the ship and puts away supplies. After a while, he returns, sitting with his back against the wall, facing you.

“How’d it go?” you mumble, peeling your eyes open to see that he’s removed his armor and sits in just his helmet and base layers. You want to appreciate the form-fitting clothes, but everything hurts too much.

“Sit up for a second.” He tells you, and that’s when you notice the huge shopping bag beside him. He coaxes you up, then fishes into the bag. “Here.” He says, handing you a heat pack.

“Oh, bless you.” You nearly weep, cracking it in half to activate the heated gel. You press the pad against your stomach and immediately sag with relief.

“Take these.” The Mandalorian says, producing two white pills and a thermos. “They’ll help with the pain, and your headache.”

“Oh…” you bring the thermos to your nose and realize it’s some kind of tea. “Thank you.”

You revel in the hot compress and tea, totally satiated, but the Mandalorian goes on. “I picked these up, too.” You actually gasp when he pulls out a box of golden tuiles. “I thought they might be…”

“My favorite.” You all-but shriek, setting your tea aside and making the same grabby hands you’ve seen the kid do a hundred times. You stare at the pack of cookies as if they’re precious treasure. “How the hell did you know?”

Even the voice modulator can’t hide his amusement. “A few weeks ago, when we were in that market place on Naboo? A woman was selling them and you got this feral look in your eye.”

“Yeah, that’s because these are the best thing ever.” You insist, tearing the box open. The sweet scent is like a drug, and without thinking, you reach in and hand him a cookie. “You have to try one.”

Equally thoughtless, Mando takes it, and before the obvious can come crashing down, you spin around and shove a cookie into your mouth, burying your head between your knees. You try to focus on the taste of the cookie and not the fact you just stupidly offered the Mandalorian food when you know full-well that he can’t eat in front of you. Nothing to do now but just bear down and wait out the awkwardness.

Your ears are practically ringing as the seconds tick by, bracing for the humiliation as he reminds you about one of his culture’s most obvious rules. You wait, but instead of a discontented sigh, you hear a crunch, chewing, and then, “Okay, yeah. I see your point.”

Your brain short circuits at the sound of his unmodulated voice, but there’s no time to savor it. He’s already getting up and heading toward the cockpit, speaking to you from behind a wall of static. “I’m going to set course for Arvala.”

You lift your head, too tired to process what just happened or what it means, if it means anything. “Hey, Mando.” He stops but doesn’t turn around. You smile anyway, because this definitely meant something. “Thank you, for all this. It’s… thank you.”

He turns his head just slightly and gives you a nod before disappearing into the cockpit. You take another swig of tea before curling up on your bedroll. Physically, you’re a disaster, but even that can’t keep the smile off your face.

#the mandalorian #fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #baby yoda #din djarin #is this domestic fluff??#fanfic #what have i done #star wars

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

prologue.| a feast for beasts

inspired by hana and the beast man.

muses. hybrid!jungkook x reader

synopsis. it’s no secret that your brother needs someone to ground him down. pull him back when his researches start to take on a dangerous route. but you didn’t think it’d come to this: finding a half-man and half-fox in the cell in his house.

in a world where man-made law refuses to acknowledge those who aren’t that: men, you seek to change the archaic rules.

note. i posted a different (distcontinued) fic under the same title. the story lines are different though.

“kim namjoon.” your voice is leveled. perhaps too leveled for someone who’s about to eat a man alive. and namjoon knows it too from the spark of sheer unadulterated fear in his eyes and the bob of his adam’s apple.

he shouldn’t have anything to fear if he wasn’t doing anything wrong but the fact that he’s one twirl away from bolting right out of his own house, is telling enough.

“when were you gonna tell me you started experimenting on humans?”

his shoulders jolt visibly at the word. perhaps he didn’t expect you to call the furred beast anything less than that: a beast. perhaps he didn’t expect you react the way you are right now.

but when the surprise settles in and he realizes the question is left hanging for too long, he clears his throat - it reminded you of how your father used to do the same thing when your mother caught him bringing home another exotic articles. your home is still littered with stoned raccoons, multiple sizes of smiling, golden cat statues and so much more.

but one thing’s for sure - the throat clearing is just an act. a show of power - if namjoon even have any in your presence. well, he has his age . he was born five years earlier than you, making him your older brother but it feels like you’re the one who has to take care of him and make sure he doesn’t blur the lines between morality and scientific findings.

“i didn’t know you were visiting.” his voice shakes at the end but you give him props for schooling a less-than-fazed expression.

“so? if i wasn’t, it’s okay for you to keep a person hostage in your home?!”

“he wasn’t a hostage! he had everything he needed in the cell.” he retorts - that’s what always gets him.

consent.

he’d never do anything his test subjects didn’t want him to do. but doesn’t mean what he does, sits well with you.

“exactly! it’s a cell.” you’re almost screaming now.

namjoon flinches. a look of hurt and troubled spreading across his face. you think he’s about to say one of his ridiculous arguments. but instead, he throws his eyes over some behind your shoulders, “jungkook! say something! i’m not holding you here against your will, right?”

jungkook’s light amber ear twitches atop his head, doe eyes going round and wide when he notices the pairs of eyes burning holes in his face. “oh? uh- i like it here. namjoon gives me ramen.”

you barely notice namjoon calling you as your feet pad towards the man. before you know it, you’re holding both his hands with every will and hope you have for him. “you have your whole life ahead of you - there’s healthier food than ramen. don’t waste it on being my brother’s guinea pig!”

namjoon grumbles out a protest from behind you but your focus are on the man’s startled wide eyes and his half-agape pink lips. the hands you’re holding tightens their hold on you just slightly, as though your words effect him. but his hands slip out of you and for a split second, it feels as though there’s an invisible line separating you and him.

he throws his gaze to something on his left, all of a sudden mumbling instead of speaking clearly, “i’m part fox.”

this time, it’s your turn to stare at him with eyes as wide as saucers. part fox? you don’t remember asking what his other half is. he’s part human and he shouldn’t be locked up in the glass cell in namjoon’s lair like a showcase. all of a sudden, a thought strikes you... could it be, he’s so far detached from the world that he doesn’t understand-

“the guinea pig is just an expression - it’s when someone uses another being as an experiment.” you explain, half-wondering if you’re really explaining what a guinea pig is.

“o-oh.” is all he says, as though he doesn’t see anything wrong with experimenting on other living creature.

does he even know he’s the one being experimented on?

before you can even say a word, namjoon tugs on your arm, pulling you somewhere down the hallway where his office is. “come here, we need to talk.”

“so you found him in the forest and took him back here?” you summarize namjoon’s long recount of how he met the man sitting on his couch in the living room.

“he was injured.” he adds, as though it’ll change anything.

“you could’ve bandaged him up and check up on him every other day - in the forest.” the tone you use drops threateningly at the last part. as though to emphasize, that’s the normal thing to do when you found a wounded animal-

you stop yourself from finishing the thought. the idea of you, yourself making an example of an animal as jungkook, makes your stomach churn painfully.

no - you’ll never be that kind of person. the person whose morale is too far skewed, you wouldn’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.

“it was a bullet wound, ___. he was being hunted, do you expect me to leave him there? you know how dangerous it is for hybrids now! they’re searching high and low for his kinds since the first sighting of hybrids a year ago.”

it takes one whole solid moment for you to register what namjoon is saying - for once, he sounds completely sane. as though his intentions were well and pure. you can’t rebut that even if you know there’s always that little gleam in his eyes that thirsts to study the unknown.

“then why the glass cell?” the muscles in your shoulder sag and you find yourself slumping into the chair.

“he has these dreams, ___.” he starts, eyes unfocused as though seeing the dreams himself, “they get so intense, i had to punch him to wake up once. and i can’t always be there for him but the cell is the only place where there’s cameras everywhere and the feed is connected to my phone so i can at least know if he’s sleeping or not. and i can try to wake him up through the intercoms if i’m away.”

you can’t help but ponder on his words. so namjoon had a reason this time - but jungkook isn’t the first person to occupy that cell. and the last few times, there was no other reason than to observation and experiments.

“still, he doesn’t really know he’s being observed, does he?” the glasses were double sided after all, “that’s where it becomes wrong, namjoon.”

“jungkook stays but he’s moving to one of the guest rooms.” you say when it looks like he’s not going to deny or affirm your question, you push yourself up and strut out of the office with a, “i’ll help clean the guest room he’ll be staying in.”

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts jungkook #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fic #bts x reader #bts x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

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amusedyan · 5 years

Text

Lark in a Cage

So there is no yandere Vincent Phantomhive, let alone Rachel.

@lightautumnsky and I decided this needed to be corrected.

“No drinking tonight darling. It wouldn’t do to say anything too…brazen, tonight, would it?”

It’d been so long since you were allowed out of the manor, the idea of flouting the rules that you’d been given was too much for you. So you smiled and allowed yourself to be petted and cooed over.

Your dress was in grey silk so fine it seemed to shine in the light, and you still delighted in the swishing sound it made when you moved, whether it was to walk, or to dance with your…cousin’s husband.

“It’s a rare treat to have the Lady Phantomhive attend!” One of the women gushed to Rachel as she sat down, smiling. She was so beautiful she nearly glowed, and the golden of her hair was matched by the sun itself.

“How could I refuse?” She demurred, fanning herself, “I always look forward to your parties Lady Anneslay.” She cast a warm smile to you as well, “and you were kind enough to invite my dear cousin, it would be rude to miss such hospitality.” Lady Anneslay tittered, her cheeks high with color beneath her make-up.

“I’d heard that lately you and Lord Phantomhive were only attending parties that extended invitations to your cousin- naturally I took the hint!”

Clever bitch.

“Yes, people are finally catching on that my cousin is part of an invitation to the family. Isn’t that right, darling?” She beamed up at you proudly, and the sense of déjà vu was overwhelming.

You’d made her acquaintance at a party like this, and she’d been so kind, so indulgent.

“It’s been a lovely evening, Lady Anneslay, but I do think we should be returning home soon.” Rachel admitted in the next lull in the conversation, signaling the women to begin protesting.

Of course she wanted to go home- your first time out in ages and she wanted to cut it short. It wouldn’t do to give you ideas, or the opportunity to leave.

You really wanted a drink.

“Pardon me,” a musical voice broke your thoughts.

A young man perhaps a year older than you and certainly in flashier dress, was smiling at you. Remembering your manners you bowed and managed a smile.

“Good evening, sir,” you greeted.

“If you’ll pardon my say so, I couldn’t resist asking a woman so lovely as yourself for a dance.” He held out a gloved hand, and nervously you glanced at Rachel.

Rachel smiled, inclined her head. “Go on, darling, we’ll leave once you’ve had your dance with the Viscount.”

“Aleistor, if you please, My Lady,” you introduced yourself and he led you out onto the dance floor.

It was still crowded, but you didn’t mind. You loved to dance, to feel the music. Aleistor was a lovely dancer, and you felt safer with him than with Vincent. Rachel was fine, but you couldn’t very well dance with a woman like you could a man.

“So, you are cousins with the Lady Phantomhive?” Aleistor asked conversationally.

You resisted the urge to clench your teeth.

“Yes, distantly. She and Lord Phantomhive opened their home to me, during a rather difficult time.” You explained, leaving out the detail and ghosting over the truth and lie.

“How generous! The Phantomhives are truly splendid people! And to introduce you to society!” His hand on your waist was warm as you glided across the floor.

“Yes, very generous ideed.”

And they were generous.

With Rachel and Vincent you’d never known such wealth. They took for granted all that they had, or at least thought nothing of their clothes and horses and art... and they offered all of it to you, without hesitation.

“I consider myself very lucky to know you indeed. You remind me of a Lark, you know; so still and careful, but your voice is so melodic-”

“Cousin.” A voice silenced Aleistor’s words, and you froze.

Vincent approached with a careful smile, but his eyes...

You stepped away from Aleistor and folded your hands.

“Rachel is ready to leave.” He directed at you, but raised a hand to stop you when you began to excuse yourself. “She said you’d made the acquaintance of the Viscount.”

“Yes, Aleistor,” and you cursed yourself, “just offered to dance with me before I had to leave.”

“So I see.” He tutted and linked his arm with yours. “The Viscount collects birds, did you know?” Aleistor froze.

“No, Vincent, I didn’t.”

“Yes. He likes to cage them. Though he should be careful.” It was impossible to miss the edge in his tone, “especially when that bird belongs elsewhere.”

He led you away smoothly, and you didn’t fight it.

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

In the carriage, Rachel unpinned your hair and threaded her fingers through it slowly and smoothly, one lock at a time.

“You’ve no idea what that man would have done to you if he’d gotten you alone, pet.” Vincent tutted, patting your knee. You stared out the window, feeling cold inside.

“How horrid, I had no idea.” You wanted to take Rachel’s hand and tell her it wasn’t her fault.

“You couldn’t have, darling. But I suppose it was too close.” Your heart clenched.

“Yes, I think perhaps society is a little too dangerous for you, pet.” Rachel agreed, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You weren’t even surprised when you started to cry.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #vincent phantomhive #rachel phantomhive #yandere #yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere vincent phantomhive #yandere rachel phantomhive

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ssdescendantsau · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1

Remus wanders around in silence, his makeshift morningstar slung over his shoulder, the nails digging into his shoulder. The world is too loud today, the clamour around him rising into a crescendo that grates against his ears. Maybe he could find something to steal or someone to fight so that everything would just shut up for one fucking second. Well, at least Remus lost his pursuers from the mindless fight he was just in. That was a good enough distaction. The only thing for Remus to do in the still air was talk to himself.

“You smash your morningstar in one person’s face and now the whole group is after you. Sounds petty in my opinion.”

Or well, makeshift morningstar and less like an iron mace-like weapon that it normally would be. It was more a block of wood stuck to the end of an iron pipe with a shit ton of nails pounded into the wood. A rustling sound whistled through the air, a flash of gold briefly spotted in the corner of Remus’s eye.

“From my perspective it sounds like you’re being the petty one.”

Turning around, Remus’ eyes land on a figure nestled in the shadows, another teenager by the sound of his voice. The darkness hides everything except for a distinctive glittering golden eye.

“Hi Dee~ How ya doing?”

‘Dee’, or Janus “Deceit” of Agrabah was the trader on the Isle, usually coming along with a trinket or item stolen from someone else’s pockets. A thing for another thing, a favor for Remus to fulfill later down the line in exchange for something shiny, but useless. That’s usually how these trades went.

“Alright, managed to nab a few things that might catch your eye. A favor would be nice, I’m planning on robbing this one guy and might want your help,” Dee pauses, mulling over his next words.“I just came to tell you about Maleficent's goons. Seems they’re looking for you.” He almost sounds worried. Mom huh, well at least let’s just hope it’s not because I did something stupid. Again.

“Ugh can’t Mother do her own dirty work for once?” Remus grumbles, turning around to find Dee gone. “Fine, I'll just get the stuff later then. Sneaky noodle always fades into the shadows thinking he’s cool and edgy.”

A faint hiss of air draws Remus’s attention to a small alleyway to his right, a perfect alleyway for hiding a body. He does remember a similar alleyway that one time that he hid a corpse, he doesn’t really like or want to think about that stuff.

Turning the corner he finds Virgil de Vil, the resident “artist” and the only one on the Island to wear all black, spraying something on the wall. The jacket was new though, the purple sleeves being a lovely addition along with the skull design on Virgil’s mask.

“Huh, well if it isn’t Virgie,” Remus drawls, moving forward to sling his arm around Virgie’s shoulders.

“First of all, it’s Virgil, not Virgie.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

“Second of all” Virgil turns to look at Remus “I'm currently working on something. What do you think, some purple or red?”

Remus glances at the spray paint on the wall, moving away from his previous position. The artwork forming a purple stormcloud on a green background. “Lilac-blue, makes the green pop out more.”

“Hm.” A quick nod of reassurance from Virgil and Remus moves next to him, plopping onto the dingy ground of the space. A thin silence hangs in the air only interrupted by the sound of Virgil’s spray cans.

“Have you ever thought about getting off this dump?” Remus doesn’t know why he said it in the first place, the question already forming before he can stop himself.

“Out of this cage? Sorry, but we’re always gonna be locked away with the “villians” in this fucked up world.”

“Of course,” Remus sighs, because this place was a death sentence in and of itself. “Forget it.” Nobody was coming to save the rejects of the world. That feeling was back, buzzing underneath his skin. So Remus did the only thing he could think of, he acted on impulse, quickly grabbing Virgil’s hand and running off with him in tow.

“Remus, no!” It was too late for Virgil to protest though.

“Remus yes.”

Whatever chaos that Remus wanted to create was quickly stopped as both of their bodies collided into an unmoving wall,black suits and sunglasses filling the frame of his vision. The only ones who dressed like here were his mom’s goons because they needed to be “presentable”. Her words not his.

“Maleficent wants to see you,” Goon #1 rumbles.

He hates these stupid lackeys. Mom sends them because she couldn’t care enough about her own kid to meet in person. Instead, it made him feel like he was twelve again, like a kid who was always getting in trouble for being too ‘much’. He can’t really protest though as Goon #1 grabs both him and Virgil.

He passes by beggars and kids with ratty clothes, crammed like sardines on this floating rock. Briefly, he passes by a mom pulling her kid with a makeshift cart and a scrawny teenager his age skimming through the crowd, most likely a pickpocket. After all, there’s no guarantee that your business will get food on the table. Remus remembers the first time that he got pickpocketed, broke the kid’s fingers for even trying. The regret came later, when the drone of bitterness and apathy left his system.

Remus watches as his “home” comes into view. It was supposed to be a fortress but it resembled a cardboard castle more than anything, ready to topple over at the slightest breeze. A building to play pretend in, Remus thinks bitterly so that everything would be ‘just like it was before’. He’s heard enough about “the glory days” from his mom to get an idea. Pushed through the entrance, Remus stares at his mom standing at the front of the room.

Looking around, Dee and the island's resident “heartbreaker” Remy, were also there with their own personal “goons” hovering over their shoulders. Remy’s sunglasses and plain leather jacket were kept clean enough as if he actually cared about his appearance. He is the kid on the Island most known from the stories gathered from his various flings. Nobody said anything at first, instead dissolving into a tense silence broken by his mom.

“Janus, Remy, Virgil and you will be going to Auradon.” Maleficent announced to the room, her gaze lingering on Remus as if to say Don’t mess this up.

“I’m sorry but, what?” Virgil splutters.

Remus looks around the room to the rest of the three kids as if to ask she’s not joking right? briefly locking eyes with a panicking Virgil.

Janus spoke up, his panicked eyes looking everywhere except for the people in the room.“I’m gonna have to agree with Virgil on this one, why the hell are we going over to those stuck-up pricks?”

“Well the Prince has made a new decree, the soft-hearted fool. You four will be attending Auridon Prep,” Her tone was detached, leaving no room for negotiations or arguement. It was Remy to first act on his impulses, blurting out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Oh, fuck no. I’m not going to be surrounded by assholes more than I need to be, ” Remy said, arms crossed and glancing off to the side.

“This is an opportunity for you. You will sneak straight into those royal’s hearts and steal Fairy Godmother’s wand in the process using, of course, the generous gifts bestowed upon you by your parents that will hopefully not go to waste. Then you’ll release the barrier and evil will spread along the land, a perfect place for us to rule.”

Remus ignores that hopeful twist in his stomach that maybe, this will prove something to her. That maybe he can be a good enough son for her.

“You don’t have much of a choice. Especially considering that your ride is going to be here soon,” the Evil Queen snapped at Remy. Quickly rifling through her pockets, she quickly took out a small mirror “Now, here is my magic mirror.” Remy stares at the small glass hand mirror in her hand, “It’s not what it used to be sadly, but it should be useful,” Remy takes the small mirror in his hands and tucks it into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“And please, get some sleep while you’re at it. Those eyebags of yours are making you uglier than you already are.”

“Yes Mother,” Remy muttered.

“Now let me see,” Mom mutters to herself, rifling through what appears to be an old cupboard as she fishes out a tattered old book, worn down from use. Turning over to Remus, she holds out the book.

“Here. This is my spellbook.” Remus gingerly picks up the spellbook from her hand.

As Remus is leaving he hears snippets of conversation from the other kid’s parents and their farewells.

“Remember Janus, lying is always the best solution” Jafar quickly tells Janus

“And always look out for yourself” Janus echoes back tonelessly, as if it were a mantra he’s heard a dozen times before.

“I’ll miss you Virgil.” Cruella puts a hand to her heart with a pout

“Really?” Virgil looks almost hopeful in those small minutes, a shine of maybe a little bit of softness in his expression

“Who else will take care of my beautiful coats.” Cruella doesn’t notice how Virgil deflates at her last sentence

“Right” Virgil scoffs to himself, his expression closing off like a set of iron gates slammed shut in front of his eyes.

Mom sharply turns to the rest of the VK’s in front of her.

“Now move along, there’s a wand to steal.”

The rest of the teenagers were shuffled out of the room to their “ride” sitting outside the fortress. A sleek black vehicle sits outside, gleaming under the sun and unbelievingly long. Maleficent clutches Remus’s arm as he’s leaving, her fingernails leaving indents in his skin.

”You better not mess this up.” Mom says through gritted teeth.

Looking at the limousine, Remus steps forward. I can make mom proud of me Remus thinks, an opportunity of a lifetime. It doesn’t stop the dread forming in his stomach.

Ao3 link

#remus sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #janus sanders #ts deciet #maleficent #Evil Queen #Jafar #Cruella de Vil #mentions of murder #mentions of child abuse #descendants #sanders sides

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honey-bri-books · 5 years

Text

Golden Time: CasDean

Focusing on Dean and Castiel’s conversation over the phone. Added inner monologue, fluff. SPN fan fic.

Based on Supernatural episode 15 x 06, written by show creator Eric Kripke. Directed by John F. Showalter.

*****

One of the many cell phones being charged is currently ringing. Dean searches through the pile of phones, at the bunker. He can barely see through his bleary vision, having just woken up from another nap. Finally, he locates the correct phone, checking the label to make sure of the alias he’s to portray. While their Bobby used to be the main boss when it came to backing up hunter aliases on “the job”, AU Bobby declined the position when Sam and Dean offered it to him. He leapt at the opportunity to train new hunters in combat and boxing, but got nervous at pretending to be an official fed. Now, the Winchester Brothers were first to call, whenever difficulties with fake IDs came up. Dean answers as quickly as he can, before the person on the other end hangs up.

DEAN: This is Assistant Director Kaiser.

The sheriff calling raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t really expecting anyone to pick up on the other end. He actually has to take the phone away from his ear and stare at it, wondering if he was hearing correctly. He looks up at the man in the tan trench-coat, with dark hair, standing in front of him. This man really is FBI. Well... The sheriff clears his throat.

SHERIFF: Er, ahem...This is Sheriff Alderoy. Just checking on Agent Worley? He keeps his eyes on Castiel, who has turned slightly away at this point. He appeared to be uncomfortable, for some reason.

Back at the bunker, Dean hesitates for only a moment... wondering. Worley, for Christ’s sake. Only one person would ever..[Sigh]....Cas, where are you? He considers hanging up, even while replying Put my agent on the phone please. He can hear the sheriff saying something to Cas for a moment, then...

CASTIEL: Hello. […….] Dean waits to hear his name but Cas is silent. Really? That’s how it’s gonna be, huh? While probably unprofessional for an agent to refer to his superior by a first name, Cas had never really cared to follow that rule, when undercover, when Dean was on the other end of the line. Well, fine! This’ll be short and to the point. For the best anyway, right?

DEAN: [Carefully] Cas? Sam’s been trying to call you. Even though he probably would never see Castiel again, he had to know that Cas would be alright on his own. He didn’t sound like he was in any real trouble, at the current moment. Right now, Cas didn’t sound like anything. Not angry, not worried...just tired. He had mentioned his powers were failing him, before leaving. Was he human at this point? Castiel sounds gruffer than usual, almost like when he and Dean first met.

CASTIEL: [Curtly] I know.

DEAN: Did you check his messages?...

CASTIEL: Nope. Castiel fixes his eyes on the blinds on the window behind the sheriff, trying not to envision Dean back at the bunker, his eyes..He sounds tired. Has he been sleeping poorly? Castiel presses his lips together in a grim line, trying to suppress the urge to ask Dean if he's alright.

DEAN: Right, smart. Why would you? Why bother with this? I should just hang up right now. He didn’t expect me to ask to speak with him when he gave the sheriff this number. Screw ‘im. I don’t need this. Still, Dean can’t seem to make himself walk away from the call. He can’t hang up, yet. Still unsure about how it all worked with Chuck controlling them all, maneuvering the puppet strings, Dean knew he’d never get back to sleep unless he was sure that Cas was fully aware of what was going on.

DEAN: Look, I don’t know if you care or not but, uh...God (Chuck) is back on the board, so watch yourself. Why are your powers failing you, now? How bad has it gotten? How are you protecting yourself? Are you being careful, wherever you are? What do you need? The list of things Dean wants to ask Castiel is endless. Instead he chooses to end the conversation then and there, so he doesn’t hear Castiel hanging up on him. And check your damn messages.. [Click]

Castiel doesn’t know how to receive Dean’s news. A combination of Dean’s nonchalance to the matter, the lifelessness of his voice, the pain of it all. What really moved Castiel the most was the fact that Dean told Cas to “watch himself”, before quickly hanging up. And Chuck...He never left. How long have Dean and Sam known? Why doesn’t Dean sound like he even cares?

Castiel had accepted the fact that Dean no longer saw him as an ally or friend. They could barely work together in a situation like the one he was currently in at the Sheriff’s office, miles apart and over the phone. But it never occurred to Castiel that Dean had completely given up on himself, that he ceased to care about who he is, forgotten the good he and his brother have done over the years. Dean sounded as if he hoped he died on the job. Dean, stop this. Stop hurting yourself... The sheriff raises an eyebrow at Castiel. Cas quickly pretends to rub dust out of his eye, to catch a tear before the Sheriff can see it. He needed to get some air..

CASTIEL: [Confusedly pretending to react to something his Superior told him] Yes Sir. Thank you Sir! He slams the phone down, and swings his arms around nervously. To the Sheriff: If you could reserve a place for me to go over those case-files in private, I’d be much obliged. I’m stepping outside for a moment, but will return shortly. Cas turns on his heels and heads towards the nearest exit, ignoring the sheriff’s protests.

Cas ducks down an alley and behind a dumpster. As soon as he’s out of sight, his legs give out from underneath him. He slumps to the ground, leaning against the brick wall behind him, covered with graffiti. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Dean. Whatever you’re thinking to yourself right now, just stop! This world needs you... and Sam...Castiel opens his eyes, remembering what Dean had said. He reaches for his phone, checking Sam’s messages. There are several new ones, since the last time he looked at his phone.

Of course, Castiel had lied to Dean when he told him he’d been ignoring Sam’s texts. He’d just never returned them. Cas couldn’t stand the idea of calling Sam and hearing him pick up on the other end, sounding hopeful, relieved that Castiel was alright because he’d been worried. It wasn’t fair to Sam, and it wasn't right.

When Castiel listens to Sam’s message about Dean and his encounter with Lilith, he springs to his feet. He nearly drops his phone as he races to his car parked in front of the police station. He’s half-sitting in the driver’s seat when he remembers what he’s doing at the police station to begin with. Cas slowly gets out of the car and leans against it, taking several moments to think. He couldn’t abandon the town like this. The people here had been too accepting of his presence, too kind. Seeing the despair and anguish on Andy’s face that morning at the store, hearing a mother’s pained plea for Castiel’s help...He couldn’t leave, not yet.

His first instinct was to get back to Sam and Dean as quickly as he could. Dean would hate him for the rest of their lives, he would tear Cas apart, and talk down to him whenever they were in the same room together, but Castiel didn’t care. He knew he couldn’t run away from something as big as the Winchesters were facing. Still...

Cas looks back down at the phone still clutched in his hand. The case he was working was unsolved, and the people in charge of protecting the community, they were basically uncaring. He wonders what Sam or Dean would do if they were in his place?

Minutes later, he’s in a room at the police station, looking over the files he’d requested from the Sheriff, and a local map. There was a pattern with the attacks happening near Jenny Lake. Castiel grabs the map and his trench coat and leaves the police station, without bothering to alert the sheriff or his assistant at the front desk. After checking the directions on the map once more, he gets in his car and pulls away.

Castiel knew he needed to investigate this case further, before even thinking of going back to the bunker. But he would return to be there for Sam and Dean, eventually. Not because Dean or Sam asked for his help, not because Chuck was making him, not because Dean sounded like he might be getting sick, or because going back was the right thing for Castiel to do. He would return to Sam and Dean because the Winchesters were his home. The only home he would ever know....and he wasn’t going to watch it crumble without a fight. He’d given his life for them before, and he would do it again...over and over again...Castiel would beg to be let into the Empty, if it meant Dean and Sam had even the slightest chance at Paradise.

******

The End

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