#but i refuse to allow myself to be consumed in order to keep this fire lit.

[andorskenobi]

Tomorrow | J. Seresin

pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Reader

summary: Jake keeps telling himself that tomorrow will be the day he finally lets you go, but tomorrow never seems to come.

warnings: angst (?), no use of y/n

a/n: i was listening to tomorrow by chris young and got the idea for this so uh you're welcome i guess

w/c: 821

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Jake knew that the relationship between you and him had never been the best, everyone else knew it too. Growing up, Jake had always been the one to string people along, but here you were flipping the switch on him. He wanted nothing more than for you to just let him in and let him love you. But you never gave in, your walls never came down, and you refused to let him go first. Which is why he often found himself saying that this would be the last time and the next day he would finally walk away. But the next day never came and Jake could never bring himself to walk away from you.

To him you were like the oxygen needed in order for the fire inside of him to burn, without you it would simply smother and die out. There was something in the way you understood his deepest desires and how you never made him feel stupid for something. The way your fire shown just as bright and burned just as hot as his own. Of course this caused problems between the two of you, nights somehow ending with one of you in tears.

Tonight was the night, Jake told himself as he walked up your doorsteps. He would spend one last night holding you in his arms and then tomorrow he would let you go and walk away. Tonight he would love as if tomorrow would never come in the hopes that he'll exhaust all the love he has for you.

Of course this all washed away the moment you opened the door and pulled him inside, the biggest smile on your face. Jake's heart filled with warmth, the fire you ignited in him burning brighter in your presence.

"I think we should go somewhere. I feel like we never go anywhere just the two of us." Jake nodded his head as you spoke, watching as you walked across your living room.

"Tomorrow, we'll go tomorrow, but tonight I really just want to hold you." You stopped walking, turning to look at him with a small smile on your face, before reaching your hand out for him to take hold of. You led him to your room, closing the door behind you.

The two of you wordlessly climbed into your bed. Jake began trying to memorize everything about you, from the way your breathe fanned across his chest to the way your fingers traced up and down his stomach. He found himself hoping that tomorrow never came and that the two of you could be frozen in this moment forever.

"I want to be better." Your voice cut through the silence like a hot knife would cut through butter, startling Jake.

"Hmm?" You craned your neck to look up at him. He could see the shine to your eyes caused by tears that had yet to fall.

"I want to be better for you. I know what people say, and I know you want to leave. I can see it in the way you look at me, but I selfishly don't want you to walk away. So, I'm gonna be better for you." Your eyes burned through his own looking directly at his soul. "Please tell me how to be better."

Despite the voice of reason in his head telling him to stay quiet Jake spoke, "Let me love you, that's how you can be better."

"I don't know how to do that, Jake." He could practically melt from his name rolling off your lips. "I want to know how. I want to be able to allow myself to love you, but I don't know if I know how to do that either."

Everyone had told Jake when he first laid eyes on you that you were worse than even him when it came to dating, but that never deterred him. He still allowed himself to fall completely into you and be consumed by your existence. Sometimes he felt as if you were punishment for all the times that he had led women on and broken their hearts, but deep down he knew if he gave you time you would come around. Eventually you did, just not in the way he'd hoped. You would allow Jake to get close but never allow yourself to fully give in to him, and somehow that hurt him more than he ever thought possible.

"Jake?" Your voice pulled him back from his thoughts, bringing his focus back to you.

"Just let me in and I'll show you." You nodded your head, rolling over so that your faces were level.

Jake closed his eyes slowly as you connected your lips in a slow kiss, trying to convey the words you couldn't allow yourself to say right now. Once again Jake found himself knowing that tomorrow would never come, but this time he had hope that it was for the better.

#hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #hangman x reader top gun #hangman angst #jake hangman fic #top gun maverick hangman #hangman seresin x reader #tgm #top gun maverick #jake seresin #dagger squad #jake seresin x you #jake seresin angst #top gun hangman #jake seresin x reader #hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun fandom

[impartial-eclipse]

"You saw my true and terrible form in its entirety. And you actually managed to injure me in the process. But I let you live because of the trauma I knew it caused you and you're friends. You may not remember it; you may have blocked out those memories. But they're there. And I will unlock them. Once I do, your psyche would be so irreparable, that. I. Will. Own. You."

He stands over me, in his white cloak and bronze mask, monologuing like the villain he is. I'm on the floor, my back to the wall, the only way out behind him. I am most afraid of the fact that he was right about some of my memories being lost to me. My friends treat me differently now and I have no memory as to why; just an odd time skip in my mind where things between us was great and then a sudden change. They all started treating me differently with the only explanation being lost in the sea of my fractured mental and emotional state.

But I'm not the bad guy. He is. I may not remember what happened, but I know whatever it was, I must've been in the right.

Right?

—–‐—–‐

The memory:

Apparently he enjoys looming over me…like a glimmering, majestic shadow… No! He's evil and I mustn't allow his charisma to sway me.

I finally gain a burst of courage, or bravado, or whatever you wanna call it, and lash out at him. Grabbing the bottom of his cloak as I sprint passed him, I manage to unbalance him both physically and mentally. As I run from the room, I catch a glimpse of what laid beneath that cloak and mask, and I instantly regret what I did. A skeletal beast, hunched over and leering at me with a menacing blue fire behind his cold and empty eye sockets. The adrenaline of seeing that tacked onto my existing adrenaline made it feel like time has all but stopped. I never stopped running, but seeing that seemed to make time slow down exponentially. He may be behind me and out of my line of sight, but that image of him is seared into my mind now and the fear of it catching me consumes every fiber of my being.

I see my friends across the street. They seem to see me too. Or, better yet, the thing pursuing me. They instantly get the same idea I did and run inside the building.

I'm the last to enter, but the inside of the building seems to have changed in an instant. I'm slow falling through a black void. Above me, I can see the door I just ran through…and the monstrosity watching me from it.

It roars. Like the cry of an injured beast. But a cry meant to draw the attention and sympathy of the unwary. A cry meant to draw them in so he can consume them when they draw close. A cry that seems to make time move normally again, and I feel myself black out from slamming onto the floor.

—–‐—–‐

I realise now why him looming over me looked so familiar. I know he won't allow me to try that again. And I have no desire to. I do not wish to see what lies beneath that cloak again.

Then he does something I didn't expect. He sighs and stands back upright. Then he takes off his mask. I avert my gaze out of fearful instinct. He touches my cheek. A gentle caress. A caring one. This can't be the same guy just a second ago. He grabs my chin and forces me to look up at him. Nope. Still that forceful villain.

My eyes are closed because I refuse to lay my sights on his ghastly visage.

"Look at me." His tone is an odd half and half of demandingly forceful and uncharacteristically gentle. It's one voice; one man. Despite that, my eyes remain tightly shut. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of even a simple order like that to be obeyed. He sighs again, now in a tone I'm familiar with: annoyance.

"Despite all the magic I possess, I still cannot control a single person." I hear him step away as he speaks, but just as a certainty, I turn my head away and keep my eyes closed. He continues, "even if I did, I wouldn't waste that power on you. You think yourself essential to my cause, but I've only allowed you to stay this long because you amused me."

I hear the faint whoosh of magic and it makes me more afraid not to pay attention now. I finally look at him. His face is only that of a weathered old man. There is a large green scar down half of his face, but there is no indication that he could've possibly been that monster I saw before.

Then again, it might've been a curse like the owl lady's. An occasional transformation brought out by certain stimuli. If that is the case, I don't wish to be the cause of a sudden change right now.

He notices I've been looking at him, my expression of confusion far too evident. He doesn't look mad. Oddly caring. Once again, I think that beast must've been a curse and his demeanor might've been tied to it as well. Perhaps this man is different. Calm, gentle.

"I wasn't lying when I said you aren't essential to me." I didn't realise there was silence between us for what felt like forever. I blink as he reiterates what he said. "You're underground network only caught me a few wild witches from the fringes of society. Any resources you've gained will be repurposed for more useful endeavors. But I can't just throw you on the street; you know too much. And the conformitorium has proven unreliable. No. I'll have to keep you locked away here until I can figure out what to do with you. Until then, London Bridge."

He seems to always time his speeches to get his point across right when something drastic happens. He sacrificed a little space in this room to magically box me in with bricks and mortar.

#writing #from a dream

[derpangel]

Wrath

That sinking feeling in my stomach. From the moment I woke up it did not leave my side. A constant heavy weight in my core.

Something is wrong, something I can’t properly attach a reason to, but I simply knew something is not right.

Groaning I raise my hands, with them flanking my head. With a hiss of air I remove my helmet, exposing my features to the warm midday air. Turning my helmet around I face it. Looking deep in to the jet black glass of my helmets lens, the feeling in my core only grew.

Frowning I look around, soldiers filling the trench we are tasked with holding, MG nests lining my right with man and woman diligently keeping watch for the slightest of hostile movements.

Glancing to my left I see one of my friends sitting next to me, his armor decorated with a distinctive blue line painted across his chest , his eyes closed.

“You doing alright?” I ask him, wondering if he’s feeling something similar as me.

“Tired.” he responded, monotone voice not allowing me to pick up anything.

Raising a eyebrow I look back to my helmet “A bad feeling kept you from sleeping?”

From the corner of my eyes I see him sit straight up, his body turning stiff “Dunno, just couldn’t sleep.”

Sighing I look up to the sky, something is wrong, I just know it.

As I’m facing up, my eyes closed, another voice in front of me rings out “Sargent, something the matter?”

With the voice my eyes shot open. Scrambling to my feet I quickly salute the person standing before me.

Standing slightly shorter than me, my commanding officer stands before me. ”Ma’am!” being the only thing leaving my mouth as my helmet thuds off of the ground.

“At ease. Something troubling you?” she asks me while I pick up my helmet.

“No ma’am.” I quickly respond.

“It doesn’t take a expert to tell Sargent. Consider it an order, speak up.” she simply responded, shooting down my poor attempt at hiding my worries.

Staying quiet for a few moments I shake my head “Ma’am, something’s wrong. I have no prof, but I just know that something isn’t right.”

A sigh escaped her as she shook her head, I stiffened at the response. Perhaps it would have been better not to speak.

“I had hoped that you would not say that.” she announced. Confusion starting to grow in me.

“I have seen many soldiers look concerned since this morning, questioning them resulted in the same answer, something just being wrong. I hade wrote it off as nerves acting up, but if somebody like you feels the same....nerves have nothing to do with it.” a frown formed on my face with her words, I’m not alone. Something really is amiss.

Before ether of us could speak a soldiers voice filled our ears “Gas! Gas on the horizon! Seal helmets!”

Looking back at my commander, with her meeting my eyes, I quickly throw my helmet on, the familiar sound and feeling of the helmet sealing coming over me. Soldiers around us started to rapidly move, setting up at the trench end to repel any attack that may come.

Walking up to the trench myself, my weapon in hand, I look past the craters formed by explosions to see a wave of green rapidly approaching our position. Only the Vek use poison gas, and only on civilians at that. Air scrubbers come standard in any military helmet now a day, meaning this is a mute attempt. But as I watch the wall of green get closer, a feeling of dread comes over me.

Having no time to question it, the wall of green moves over us. Tinting all our sights in green. Readying my weapon for the incoming attack, my body stopped moving. A burning sensation filled my lunges as I stumbled back from the trench wall, many soldiers collapsing to the ground around me. A cough escaped me, then another, and another. The burning sensation growing ever worse in my chest. All around me the sound of soldiers coughing filled my ears. my eyes darting around at the sight of soldiers collapsed on the ground.

Breathing becomes agony, as with every breath I attempt to make the burning in my chest grows. Falling to my knees I feel something warm slowly flowing down my chin. Collapsing to the ground, all I can do is watch my fellow man suffer a slow and agonizing death.

As my body grows motionless, in front of me a foot appears, the foot walking past me. Turning my head I see one of our soldiers walking through the green air, no signs of the gas affecting him. As I watch him, the soldier turns around, his head watching the death all around him. My eyes widening at the sight of a blue stripe across his chest.

As I watch him, he moves out of the trench towards the Vek line. With every moment the truth of the situation grew ever clearer.

A traitor.

He’s a traitor.

As I lay on the ground a new sensation starts to come over me. Another burning sensation. A burning that consumed the pain the gas gifted me with. 

A person I called a friend did this, he would not only doom us to a slow and agonizing death, but if we fall, the city, the people we swore to protect would suffer just like this.

I could no longer feel the pain of my lunges failing, the pain of them falling apart. That did not mater. None of that matters now. I can’t accept this.

No, I won’t accept this! I refuse to let anything happen to civilians, to the people I swore to lay my life down for!

Gritting my teeth I start pushing myself off of the ground, forcing myself on to my knees I grab my helmet and rip it off. The moment I do blood pores out and covers me in its crimson color. Throwing it away I cough once more, more blood spilling on to the ground.

Looking up I see countless of my comrades lying on the ground, motionless. Succumb to the grim fate thrown at us. But among them, movement. Some of my brothers and sisters yet live, as they rise, defiance burning within them.

Raising to my feel I make my way to the trench wall, my feet dragging as I force all the strength in me to allow me to move. Reaching the wall I collapse on it, beyond the trench a legion of Vek slowly moving closer in the open. No attempt at seeking cover, so sure in there victory as they crawl across the ground.

The sound of bodies hitting something solid echoes in our trench as more and more dying soldiers throw themselves at the trench walls. And to my left a figure climbs out of the trench.

The figure leaning against a pole holding the flag of our empire, legs shaking as they stand. After a few moments they remove there helmet, my commanders platinum hair, now tainted a crimson red in spots, lightly swaying in the wind.

Only the soft hum of wind filling the air as the Vek stopped there advance at the sight. She looked at them, rage, hatred, and defiance burning in her eyes as she took in a deep breath, blood dripping from her mouth in the proces.

Knowing what is to come, I raise my weapon, my sights instantly landing on a all to familiar sight to me. A humanoid figure, with a blue stripe across there chest.

My commanding officers voice broke the silence, her roar shaking the ground we stand on “Let none live! Sow despair in there hearts!”

And with her roar, she fell to her knees, her arm raised as she fired the first shot from her handgun. Now she may rest, having done her duty. For now we must complete our duty as well.

A roar escaped me as I pull the trigger, my round crossing the field.

With it a body falls, the body of one who should have been tried for his crimes, but was shown mercy with a quick end.

Following me the roars of countless broken bodies fill the air, followed by countless weapon fire, hundreds of our MGs silenced, but there fury living on in the ones that fight.

Climbing out of the trench I slowly shamble my way towards the panicked and retreating Vek, My weapon firing with every step I take.

They will not reach the city for as long as we breath!

#humans are space orcs #humans #defiance #solider #war #fiction #scifi #Alien

[angellesword]

SAVE ME | KTH (14)

Summary: You were determined to kill yourself, but what would happen when instead of ending your life, you ended up summoning the devil of death?

Alternatively:

The Devil: I’m here to ruin you, I’m here to save you.

Genre: Demon au, e2l, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Devil!Taehyung x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: stabbing (this is the last time promise) kissing, oral sex (m. receiving.)

Note: Guys if you can, please listen to Samson by Regina Spektor while reading this update.

SERIES: CHAPTER 13 | FINAL CHAPTER (15)

"No. It's not enough."

His response was like a broken record, it kept playing inside your head.

It was too much—too painful.

You had to leave now. You had to leave before your tears started to fall.

It was too late.

Hot tears cascaded down your face as you pushed him away, refusing to be caged any longer.

You didn't know if he saw you cry.

Maybe he did.

Maybe that's the reason why he tried to stop you from leaving.

"It will never be enough." He paused for a second just to swallow thickly, "because kissing you isn't greed in the first place."

It worked.

You halted your steps, slowly turning to face him.

When you looked at him a few breaths ago, you felt like you were being burnt.

You even turned into ashes.

However, that feeling changed when he brought out his phone. He was talking to his virtual assistant while looking directly at you.

"Hey PD-nim," he started.

You and Taehyung were only five feet away from each other.

"What does it mean when someone is always in your thoughts? When you're sad when she's sad? When you have this...strong desire to touch her—no." He shook his head as if the last thing he uttered was completely wrong.

"I mean...it's fine if I can't always hug her or hold her hand. I guess I just want to be near her...to feel the comfort and warmth she's emitting,"

Taehyung chuckled lightly. His smile was big, eyes crinkling.

"I also want to stay alive," his eyes suddenly darkened, causing your heart to sink.

"It's not because I want to save myself..."

You felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for the next words he's about to say.

"But because I want to protect her."

Again, you turned into ashes—

"I'm one hundred percent sure that feeling is called love," the virtual assistant answered.

—but like a phoenix, you rose again.

"You are in love with her."

Taehyung wasted no time when he heard PD-nim's response.

He closed the gap between you two. The fire in his eyes was scorching, it was the only thing that could melt your cold, cold heart.

"Our first kiss doesn't mean greed," Taehyung cupped both of your cheeks.

He was done pretending. He was done trying to be logical.

It was time to admit the truth.

"It means love."

When he said this, you felt like the missing piece of the puzzle was finally found, completing the gap in your heart.

Everything made sense now.

Taehyung still needed to tempt people because he didn't satisfy his capital vice in the first place.

Greed was a sin.

Loving you was redemption.

Unfortunately, he couldn't be saved by the love he felt for you.

Love was a good thing and Taehyung was evil.

His sole purpose in this world was to spread hatred and bitter meanings.

He wouldn't survive by doing good deeds.

"Y-You know..." Of course you would stutter just as when you thought you could finally voice out what you felt.

Regardless of this, you still tried to speak.

"I was hesitating to tell you how I feel about you." You weren't lying.

When you realized what Taehyung had done to the girl at the flower shop, you thought that maybe you made a mistake.

Perhaps you didn't have feelings for him. Maybe you were just caught up with how perfect his mouth felt when it was crashing against yours, or maybe, just maybe, you were deceived by him again.

You were in denial.

You knew you weren't perfect. You had hurt so many people before—even now.

But it was all unintentional.

Taehyung was the only one who hurt people deliberately.

You hated this about him.

But as said, his confession changed your mindset.

Some people were forced to do things they didn't want to do because they needed to survive.

You knew this all along; however, you didn't fully understand it.

The missing puzzle you were talking about was what made you understand.

Some people were forced to do things they didn't want to do because they needed to survive, and that's okay. We just have to find grace with our decision.

"But you made it so easy, you know?" You weren't stuttering anymore. You even found the courage to also caress his cheeks.

Taehyung closed his eyes, relishing your soft touch.

"How can I deny my own feelings when the one who isn't supposed to feel anything sincerely admitted what he feels for me?"

Taehyung pouted his lips.

"I've been in this world since the beginning of time, love." He was saying that he saw how things started and ended.

He knew that the main reason why people were miserable was because they refused to accept things as they were.

They lied, always underestimating or overestimating things.

Taehyung didn't want to repeat the mistakes of people. He rather named his emotions than lose you for not doing it when he had the chance.

"I asked this device—" he raised his phone in the air "—to tell you how I feel because I thought you won't believe a devil like me."

You nodded in understanding. You were blinded by anger just a short while ago.

You really believed that he wanted to hurt people for fun.

"But I do, okay? I do love you and it scares me."

You could see in his eyes that he was truly frightened.

You bit your lip, allowing him to explain further.

"I'm not scared of loving you even if it's new to me. What frightens me is your reaction. I-I have no idea if you're going to accept me..."

It hurt when he looked away from you.

"Tae, listen to me..." You gently grabbed his chin, urging him to look at you.

"We're both scared. As in hella terrified." You laughed as you told him that Ji-hyo was actually the one who convinced you to talk to him.

Your best friend claimed that running away wouldn't do you any good, but for you, running away from your problem was easier. You could play thousands of scenarios inside your head, wondering what could have been if you only confronted him.

Facing your problem was the complete opposite of this. When you confronted him, there would only be one answer.

The answer was final. It couldn't be twisted. You wouldn't be allowed to imagine scenarios in your head because you already knew the right answer.

You wouldn't be able to escape it even if you wanted to. At least with the thousand scenarios, you could still change it if it turned out that you didn't like how it was playing inside your fucked up head.

But you were glad.

You were glad that you decided to face your dilemma.

You were glad that you were now nodding your head as Taehyung asked if he could kiss you.

"You don't have to ask, silly." You grabbed his face, initiating the kiss.

Taehyung giggled in between the intimate act.

He liked this feeling better. He liked kissing you in this narrow alley. He liked kissing you now that he was free.

The only thing he didn't like was when the counter pager inside your pocket buzzed, indicating that the dumplings you ordered were now ready to be picked up.

"Damn," Taehyung's nose wrinkled right after you pulled away from the kiss. "I wanna keep kissing you."

He was acting like a child, making you laugh.

"You can kiss me later." You winked at him as you pulled him towards the dumpling store.

You and Taehyung ended up eating one dozens of mandu while watching some boring netflix show.

You called it boring since you weren't really paying attention. Your mind (and heart) were busy fooling around with Taehyung.

"You feel so good," Taehyung grunted, eyes darkening as he watched you suck him off.

You were kneeling between his legs, looking so sexy and small. He swore his hard cock was bigger than your face.

You enjoyed rubbing it on your cheek before wrapping your tiny hands around his shaft.

You gave him a few pumps before taking him in your sweet, sweet mouth.

Taehyung kept his hands at the back of his head, allowing you to take control.

This was already so difficult for him. Touching you would only drive him crazy.

Joke's on him because he was already crazy. God. You were amazing. His stomach was contracting when you pressed the flat of your tongue over his tip, gathering his precum until it stained your mouth.

You sank your mouth down his full length, not stopping until your forehead hit his pelvis.

Taehyung's head fell back against the couch. You wanted to focus on his pretty face, but the tears in your eyes made it hard.

"Ah,"

Your pretty moans were what pushed him over the edge. He exploded in your mouth without a warning.

"You're lucky I can swallow," you chortled, attempting to wipe the remnant of his load on the corner of your mouth.

Taehyung grabbed your face lightly, stopping you from doing so.

He leaned closer to kiss you, tasting himself as he whispered "Wanna make you feel good too..."

Taehyung scooped you up, making you sit on his lap.

"Please," he kissed the base of your throat while you grind on his cock.

You shook your head.

"This all about you, Tae..." Your words were in contrast to what you really felt. Taehyung could feel how wet you were through your soaked underwear.

You wanted this. You wanted him so much. This wasn't about you. He was the one who deserved to feel good. He had been through a lot.

"Trust me, baby. I'm on cloud nine right now," the corner of his mouth quirked up before sucking bruises on your neck.

"R-Really," you whimpered, running your hands through his soft locks. "Is that why I'm on cloud nine too?"

You remembered your conversation with him from almost a year ago. His life was connected to yours and vice versa. You couldn't breathe when he was mad, and now that the pleasure was overwhelming him, you felt really good as well.

What he felt, you felt too. Taehyung froze upon remembering this.

"What's the matter?" The lust consuming you instantly boiled down to confusion.

Why did the devil look like something epic just hit him right in the face?

"I meant this in the sweetest way possible," Taehyung touched your back.

The scissors tattooed on your shoulder blade materialized in front of him. He was spent. He couldn't use his power after this anymore.

Taehyung was holding the black scissors now.

"Can you please stab yourself?"

The normal reaction should be to freak out—to get mad. However things were different today.

You understood what he meant.

He was testing a theory.

And so you participated.

Heaving a deep sigh, you stabbed your palm using the scissors.

You yelped in pain.

Taehyung held you, kissing your forehead.

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

But you didn't know what hurt the most.

Was it your injured hand? Or was it the fact that Taehyung's palm wasn't bleeding like yours?

It only meant one thing.

"Our lives aren't connected anymore." He confirmed what you already knew.

You were aware that you should be rejoicing. You were finally free. He was finally free.

"I can go back to hell now..."

There was no reason for him to stay here. He simply went to the world of the living to protect you and to tempt people. Doing the latter only took a short period of time.

Taehyung always went back to hell right after corrupting the minds of humans.

In hell, he was safe.

If he was there, he wouldn't have to tempt innocent people just to survive. Hell was his home, it was where his powers became stronger.

"Yeah," your response was too late.

Silence was engulfing you for quite some time now. You were in a state of shock when he said that he could go back to hell any moment from now.

He had no reason to be with you.

"I have all the reason to be with you," but Taehyung believed otherwise.

He didn't want to leave you alone. He just admitted he loved you. He couldn't love you and then decided to leave you.

"Don't be silly, Tae." You buried your face in his chest so that he couldn't see the tears forming in your eyes.

"You have to go. You served your purpose already. You save me,"

You were no longer suicidal. You felt a lot better now. His presence helped you a lot. He made you realize so many things.

"The best thing to do is to leave me."

"But it's not the right thing to do..." His jaw tensed as he embraced you.

"I don't want you to die, Tae." You hugged him back. "I can't let my selfishness become your downfall."

You are my sweetest downfall. He wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.

He didn't want to die too.

Dying meant he wouldn't be able to see you again.

He had to save himself so that he could continue to love you.

Taehyung loved you.

He kissed you once more just to show it to you.

You kissed him back to imply that you also loved him.

The kiss wasn't like the first time. It wasn't the same as the second kiss too.

This time, the kiss felt more intimate, hungrier, hotter...

He kissed you like it was the last time he would be allowed to do so.

"I love you, Taehyung..." You cooed, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He didn't respond. He only kissed you deeper.

He brought you to his bedroom.

You let your bodies talk. The tension and the frustration were released through kissing your complexion.

Taehyung made love to you to make up with the time you lost and the time you would be losing.

He had accepted his fate.

"How does it feel to be there?" You asked as he collapsed beside you.

"In hell?" Taehyung moved closer to you, embracing your naked body.

You nodded.

He was silent for a while, like he found it hard to answer your question.

Moments later, he finally spoke.

"It feels like everything is..." He stared at the white ceiling of the room, "dead."

It was your turn to keep your lips sealed.

Your heart was aching, luckily Taehyung knew the right words to make you feel better.

"But here, I feel alive..."

It was reassuring to think that you were one of the reasons why he felt happy to be here.

But here, I feel alive... you kept repeating these words inside your head until you fell asleep.

You liked to think that you had a good sleep.

But you wished you didn't sleep because when you woke up, he wasn't by your side anymore.

#taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #demon taehyung #devil taehyung #taehyung demon au #taehyung devil au #taehyung roommate #taehyung roommate au #taehyung fantasy au #taehyung fantasy #taehyung x yn #taehyung x you #taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #ficswithluv #taehyung enemies to lovers #taehyung e2l

[justcallmefox89]

The Demon Prince’s Wedding - Part II

Art by @greedylilshit

Art by @daddydemus​

I sit on the edge of the bed, anxiously twisting my engagement ring around on my finger as I wait for Mammon and Diavolo to finish getting ready for our wedding ceremony.

At least I was able to talk Dia down to a small celebration in the gardens.....

He had wanted to throw a ball and invite the entire Devildom.  I was currently trying to talk him out of declaring his future heir’s birthday as an official Devildom holiday.  

The man has no restraint. 

“Arianthi?  Beloved?”  Diavolo’s low voice eventually draws me out of my reverie.  

“Mmmm?  What’s up Dia?”

“Could you light the candles and the fire and then come help me?”  Diavolo asks absentmindedly as he adjusts his clothing.  

Small globules of flames burst forth from my fingertips, delicately touching the candle wicks and consuming the firewood in the fireplace grate.  Soft, golden light caresses Diavolo’s silhouette as he grumbles to himself and starts selecting his jewelry for the evening.

I cross the room to stand on my tiptoes behind him, smoothing the black fur of the shawl that covers his broad shoulders. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen my father today, have you princess?”  Diavolo asks hesitantly.

Arawn.  That must be what has Diavolo so fidgety.

I try to rearrange my face into placid expression of neutrality.

“No, my prince.  Should I ask some of the servants to start looking for him?”  I offer as I run my hands over his wings in the soothing motions I know he loves.

Diavolo shakes his head.  “I was just curious.  I’m sure he’ll be here tonight, I just wonder where he’s got off to.”

“He’s cutting it awful close, the ceremony will be starting soon,” I murmur.  “Not a good time to be going missing.”

“Princess........”  Diavolo sounds exhausted.  

“He should be there.  For you, if nothing else.”

Diavolo tenses beneath my touch. “This can’t be easy for him either.”

For the duration of our engagement Arawn had been an obstinate roadblock, and his refusal to take part in the festivities had been a constant source of hurt and disappointment for Diavolo, even if it wasn’t entirely surprising.  

So many problems could be solved if they would just let me set him on fire.....

An annoyed growl breaks low in my throat and I walk away from him.  “I’m going to go see what’s taking Mammon so long; he should have been out of the shower twenty minutes ago.”

“Princess.”  Diavolo’s tone is soft and cajoling.   He eases down into one of the large armchairs that sits in front of the fireplace.  “Come to me.  That’s an order from you future husband and king.”

I roll my eyes and huff out a low laugh, crossing the room to settle into his lap. Diavolo gathers me in his arms and holds me tightly to his chest.  I snuggle deeper into his embrace and nuzzle my face into his neck, tracing the tattoos on his chest with a fingertip. 

Diavolo twitches slightly.  “That tickles,” he laughs quietly, trying to grab my hand.

I raise my eyebrows in surprises and snatch my back back quickly, before diving down to gently tickle his ribs.

“Not fair Arianthi!”  Diavolo squirms and giggles, trying to get free.  He finally settles for wrapping both arms around me, pinning me to his chest and effectively stopping my wandering hands.

“Mmmmm,” he murmurs softly in my ear.  “Such a pretty little demon in my lap and for once I have her all to myself.”

Diavolo’s lips brush against my ear, then my neck as he drops a series of warm, soft kisses across my jaw and to my lips.  He captures my mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue teasing mine as his hands drop down to my hips, delicately stroking the smooth silk of my dress.

“You two gettin’ started without me?”  A husky voice behind us asks.

Diavolo gives me one last lingering kiss before allowing me to adjust in his lap so I can see our fiancé.

Mammon’s hair is still damp from his shower, and all he’s wearing is an unzipped pair of low slung leather pants.  Behind me I can feel Diavolo’s breath hitch for a moment before he gives a deep grumble of appreciation.  

Mammon holds up his leather jacket and harness and gives me a wicked smile.  “Come help me get dressed baby?”

“Always, my love.”  I push myself out of Diavolo’s lap and slowly walk towards Mammon, allowing him to take in my appearance for the evening.

“Mmmm.......I love it when you have your wings out,” he murmurs before giving me a deep kiss.  “And wearin’ red tonight too?  Am I back in the Celestial Realm and nobody’s told me yet?”

"You are such a cheeseball,” I tease, dropping a smattering of kisses across his muscular shoulders before helping him shrug into his harness and jacket.  “But it’s adorable.”

“Oi!  A demon ain’t allowed to compliment his girl?”  Mammon teases me back, placing his hands on my hips.

“By all means feel free to keep going and never stop,” I murmur against his lips, lightly stroking his leather clad thighs before slowly zipping his pants.

“Ok, new idea,” Mammon says, kissing me softly.  “I vote we ditch the reception  and lock ourselves in this room and don’t come out for at least a month.” 

I cuddle close to his chest.  “I like this plan.”

Diavolo groans behind us.  “You two are entirely too tempting.”

He stands and wraps his arms around us, pulling both of us close.  I relax into their arms, savoring the warmth of their bare skin as the tension slowly leaves my body.

“The guests are arriving my loves.”  Diavolo sighs as he releases us from his embrace.  “We need to make our entrance.”

Mammon smiles as he smooths a few stray feathers on my wings and tucks them back into place.  “Ready for this baby?”

I offer him a shaky grin.  “Not even a little.”

“You’re both going to be amazing.”  Diavolo gives us each a soft kiss and ushers us out of the room.  “Let’s go get married.”

Thirty minutes later the three of us stand in the gardens in front of our closest friends and family.  Simeon, Luke, Solomon, Barbatos, and Mammon’s brothers beam at us, while Arawn lounges in a chair and looks bored.  Rather than have an officiant, we had decided to incorporate the six demon lords into our ceremony.  Arawn had also been invited to contribute, but had never confirmed if he will or not.

The three of us stand in a loose triangle, our right hands joined together.  Lucifer steps forward and wrap a red silk ribbon around our hands.  

“Do the three of you promise to always work through you problems together, and never let your pride get in the way?”  

Mammon, Diavolo, and I glance at each other with shy smiles.  “We do,” we say as one.

Lucifer gives Mammon a proud smile.  “So it shall be done.”

Levi stands next, shakily draping a purple ribbons over our hands.  “D-do you all promise to support each other, and encourage each other, without becoming envious of each other’s successes?”

“We do.”

“S-so it shall b-be d-done.”  Levi quickly sits back down and lets out a deep sigh of relief.

“Congratulations you three,” Satan whispers, as he places a green ribbon over our joined hands.  He continues on in a louder voice, “Do you three promise to always be kind and loving to each other, and never turn on each other in anger?”

“We do.”

“So it shall be done.”  Satan inclines his head in small gesture of respect before returning to his seat.

Asmo bounds up next with a squeal of delight, grinning and giving us each a kiss on the cheek before winding his deep pink ribbon with his brothers’.  “Do you three promise to build a beautiful life together, and to try to find wonder in your everyday life?” 

“We do.”

“So it shall be done.”

Beel shuffles up next, a shy smile on his face as he softly wraps an orange ribbons around our hands.  “Do you three promise to always nurture your bond and never let it grow weak?”

“We do.”

“So it shall be done.”

Belphie follows his twin, for once looking only marginally sleepy.  He weaves the bright blue ribbon with other.  “Do you three promise to always sleep next to each other, and attempt to make each sweet dream you have a reality?”

“We do.”

“So it shall be done.”

Belphie glances over his shoulder at Arawn, who pointedly remains seated, but briefly locks eyes with Diavolo and holds up his own black ribbon before releasing it and allowing it to flutter to the ground.

Mammon and I both growl, infuriated by the shattered look on Diavolo’s face.  Belphie quickly grasps our joined hands as Diavolo wrests control over his features.  

“The promises have been sworn and witnessed, so they shall be done.  In the eyes of the Devildom the three of you are now married.  I pronounce you husband, wife, and husband.”  

He turns to our small audience.  “I present to you for the first time King Diavolo, Queen Arianthi, and Lord Mammon.  Long may they reign, in health and happiness.”

The three of us exchange soft kisses and stand silently for a moment, beaming at each other.  Diavolo softly squeezes my hand before whispering, “Shall we move on to the reception my loves?”

“Yeah, let’s go check out all the wedding gifts!”

“Mammon!”  Diavolo and I scold him in unison.

Mammon is saved as Barbatos and Luke join us.

“My lord, the rest of your guests who weren’t invited to the ceremony have gathered in the ballroom for the reception.  They may begin to get restless if you don’t join them shortly,” Barbatos says softly.

“Plus, you need to see the cake!”  Luke is fairly vibrating with excitement as he grabs my hand.  “Barbatos let me help him make it!”

“I’m sure it’s perfect Luke.”  I smile down at him.  “You go on ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”  

Luke scurries away, following Mammon, Diavolo, and Barbatos as the wind their way through the gardens and back to the castle.  I stay still, breathing in the heavy perfume of the night blooming flowers and taking a moment just for myself.

“Hiding from your husbands already?”

I cringe at the sultry voice coming from behind me.  He really does ruin everything.

I inhale sharply before turning to face Arawn.  “Skipping the reception?  I assumed you’d jump at a chance to ruin that too.”

Arawn snorts in derision.  “If my son was hurt by my refusal to participate in his nauseating wedding ceremony then I’ve well and truly failed him as a parent.  Such weakness will never be tolerated from the King of the Devildom.”

“Diavolo has been an excellent ruler since you defaulted on your responsibilities,” I snap, each word soaked in scorn.  “He is the man he is, the leader he is, in spite of having you as a father; not because of it.”

Arawn brings his fingers to his lips, frowning and staring at me thoughtfully before he finally asks,  “Why did you choose them?”

My nose wrinkles in confusion.  “What?”

“My son and Mammon.  What about them enticed you?  Why them?  Why do all the things you’ve done, just to be with them?”

I eye him warily.  “Why do you care?”

“It’s a question I’ve never been able to get a clear answer on.”  Arawn’s amber eyes spark with curiosity.  “I’ve never understood this odd little trio you’re a part off, not really.”

I just frown at him, remaining silent.

“It’s quite the puzzle really.  You’re so different from them,” he continues.  “You’re a -”

“A human?” I interrupt.

“Not anymore though, hm?”  Arawn shoots me a coy grin.  “But even before that. I looked into you, your past, when I first learned of my son’s intentions towards you.  You’ve always been fierce; a fighter, unwilling to back down.  Stubborn to the point of stupidity.”

I open my mouth to retort, but he quickly continues.

“I’ll admit I was surprised to find out just how scrappy you are.  And just how fiercely you fight for my son.”  He shakes his head in surprise, a faint note of pride tinging the words.

“But you’re so different from him, from them both.  You seem soft and gentle.  Kind.  And you are, to those you love and trust.  But everyone else?  We know how you really are.  Hard, decisive. Rough around the edges.  Willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.  A fighter first and foremost.  How does a girl like this fall in love with my soft hearted son?”

“Why do you constantly act like there’s something wrong with Dia?”  I counter, narrowing my eyes at Arawn.

He gives a laconic shrug.  “He’s a bit of a disappointment if we’re going to be completely honest with each other.”

Fire bursts from my fingertips before I can form a coherent thought.  “You -” I grit my teeth, unable to come up with words that encompass how thoroughly and absolutely I loathe Arawn.

“I can only hope my grandchild will be more impressive,” Arawn continues, smirking at my impotent rage.  “With you as a mother I have faith they will be.”

“You really are just angry, petty little man, aren’t you?”  I ask, glancing at him in disgust.

The corners of his mouth twitch, in irritation or amusement I can’t tell.  “I’m going to miss your particular brand of entertainment when I leave, little demon.”

“The feeling is decidedly not mutual,” I snap as I begin to make my way back to the castle.

Arawn tags along behind me silently, until we both pause as we reach the doors of the ballroom.  I reach out to push the doors open, but he grabs my wrist at the last second.

“One last moment of your time, little demon,” he says looking down at me, eyes glinting with something very close to affection.

I tilt my head back to meet his gaze, silently waiting.

“You’ve done well here.  And despite my initial thoughts, my son could do no better than you.  Even that fallen angel is a good fit for him, shockingly.”  Arawn shakes his head as if he’s surprised to admit that.  

He touches my shoulder softly.  “Tell Diavolo something for me?”

“Depends,” I answer, glaring at him.

“Tell him that he will be far better at this,” Arawn waves a hand lazily at me.  “Far better than I ever was.”

I quirk an eyebrow, half in confusion, half in offense.

“Family.  Fatherhood.”  He furrows his brow in consternation.  “Despite how completely he disappointments me, whatever his failings in other areas, I have no doubt that my son will be an excellent husband and father.”

"It is truly amazing how you can wrap a compliment in insults,” I reply, keeping my tone sharp even as I glow with pride.  “But you’re right, Dia will be wonderful father.”

Arawn’s mouth twitches in a half-hearted smile as he quickly steps toward me, the leans down to brush a soft kiss against my forehead.  

“Good luck, little demon,” he whispers as he straightens up.  “Give Mammon and Diavolo my regards.”

With that he turns and leisurely walks down the hallway, tossing me a wave over his shoulder as he goes.

The ballroom is a riot of energy and laughter as I enter and make my way through the crowd of well wishers.  I scan the crowd for Mammon and Diavolo, only to find them sharing a dance, gazing at each other as if they’re the only people in the world.

I spot Lucifer on the edge of the crowd gathered to watch them and move to his side, gently nudging him with my shoulder.

“Hello, little sister,” he greets me, flashing me a sardonic grin.

I shudder.  “Ugh.  You’re creepy.  Never call me that again.”  

I shake my wings out to smooth down the ruffled feathers as Lucifer chuckles darkly.  His focus shifts back to the dance floor, eyes softening as he watches his little brother dance with Diavolo.

“He’s so happy,” Lucifer murmurs.  “I haven’t seen him smile like that since before the fall.”

I smile and lean against Lucifer, resting one hand on the slightly visible bump of my lower abdomen.  “I know you’ve had your reservations about us......”

“Not you,” he interrupts.  “Never you.”

“I know you’ve had your reservations about Dia,” I begin again.  “But please trust me when I say that we both love Mammon.  So, so much.”

Lucifer sighs and glances down at me.  “I know you do.  I’ve been by his side for so long, kept him safe, taught him so much........ It’s hard to let him embark on this new adventure without me there to watch over him.”

“And from a purely selfish angle, I feel in some strange way that I’m losing my little brother,” his breath hitches and his chest heaves in a shuddering breath.  “That I’m losing my best friend.”

I reach out to gently squeeze his forearm.  “You’re not losing him.  Things will be different, but how much he loves his older brother will never change.”  I pause.  “And in about eight months I have a feeling he’ll be relying on you more that ever.”

Lucifer barks out a startled laugh.  “I have no doubt you’re right.”  He turns his gaze back to the dance floor, eyes shining.  “Mammon married, a father soon.  Me, an uncle.  It’s all a bit too wonderous to image, that our little family could be so......”  He shakes his head, blinking rapidly.

My throat tightens with emotion as I watch a few tears slip down Lucifer’s cheeks.

A bright light flashes from our right, follow by an excited voice shouting, “Got it!”  Lucifer and I whip around to see Satan and Belphie standing a few feet away, Belphie holding Satan’s D.D.D., pointed directly at us.

I feel Lucifer tense beside me as the air crackles around us with his growing fury.

“Satan!  Belphegor!”  He roars, moving towards them.

“Run!”  Belphie tosses the D.D.D. to Satan, and the two dart off in opposite directions, weaving between wedding guests as Lucifer gives chase.

I grin fondly at the trio and hear twin chuckles behind me.  Mammon wraps an arm around my waist and gently rests one hand on my abdomen while Diavolo drapes one arm around my shoulders.

“What did those two do now?”  Diavolo asks, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.

“Got a picture of Lucifer crying,” I respond, laying my head against Mammon’s shoulder.  

The two demons give a violent start,

“I swear.  He had a rare soft moment, watching his little brother dance with his new husband.”  I gently kiss Mammon’s shoulder.

“I’ll be damned,” Mammon whispers.  Diavolo and I have the good grace to ignore his quiet sniffles, but grin at each other when he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.  

He roughly clears his throat.  “Oi!  This is a party, yeah?  Let’s get to it then!”

They reach out and take my hands, Mammon on my left and Diavolo on my right, and we step forward as one, into our new life together.

#obey me! #OBEY ME ART #OBEY ME #obey me fandom #obey me fanfic #obey me fic #obey me fluff #obey me oc #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me! one master to rule them all #truth or dare series #obey me fiction #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x oc #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon x oc #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #Obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor

[a-master-procrastinator]

10 OC Facts: Bal'sara

Tagged by @raven-of-domain-kwaad, thank you! And tagging (no pressure): @chaoticspacelesbians, @the-nameless-legacy, @palepinkycat, @shanfamilydrama and @a-muirehen.

Had difficult time choosing a character, but decided to give Bal some facts (she hasn't told me much about herself up to this point, yet much remains a mystery). Since they all came in a short period of time, these facts are not going to be that specific, just something basic.

1. Bal'sara was born on Ryloth in a wealthy and influential family. She doesn't remember much of home or family, only that she had parents and two siblings, older brother and younger sister.

2. Her connection to the Force was discovered at age of 4. Parents knew what this meant, and while there was still war going on, they agreed to give Bal to the Jedi for training. Unlike my other consular, Bal never had a chance to meet her family again.

3. As a child, Bal has been told a lot of stories about the Jedi, mostly something like fairy tales about kind wizards who can heal people and throw rocks with just their mind. Basically, the Jedi were her favorite heroes of fictional stories (even though the Jedi themselves were not fictional) that she looked up to.

4. This lead to some disappointments - Jedi turned out to be more stoic and boring than she thought (can't blame her though), and masters trying to teach Bal'sara to be a classic Jedi only made her disobey rules more. It's been a long time until Bal'sara came to understanding that what training was actually pretty important, so she tried to follow it as much as she could. Still, even with life being more complicated than tales about noble heroes, Bal'sara strives to be one.

5. Love for fancy clothing came from childhood and only grew stronger with Bal's desire not to be a classic boring Jedi. She refused to wear simple robes and changed outfit at the first opportunity.

6. Figuring her form isn't easy. Bal'sara uses a double-bladed lightsaber (with changing it to a pike later), and as far as I understand not every form goes well with this weapon. Forms III, IV, V and VII seem to be pretty good for this weapon. The problem is, Bal'sara is kind of an elegant duelist with calculated strikes, mastered footwork, much like form II, but I don't imagine it goes well with double-bladed lightsaber. Then again, why wouldn't Bal'sara try to do exactly that? So as far as I'm concerned, Bal'sara utilizes form II in lightsaber combat and form III against multiple enemies and blaster fire.

7. Bal'sara's disappointment in fairy tale Jedi did not stop her from consuming everything in libraries about various Force powers and techniques. Of course she wasn't allowed to practice every technique (simply bc some of them are Dark Side powers), but her desire to utilize as many as possible is what led her to Consular's path.

8. As she didn't have much of that during her training (people had high expectations of her bc of her strong connection to the Force), Bal loves to spend some time with younglings and padawans to make their training a bit more fun, usually just letting kids be kids, throwing games and little friendly competitions for cool items or sweets she brought from other worlds.

9. Airistan was one of those padawans Bal took under her 'care'. As Airistan was not used to all Jedi stuff at all, Bal helped her get around and provided lightsaber practice and was just a member of the Order who seemed more like a normal person to Airistan. So this is where their friendship started, and together they brought a lot of headache to the Council.

10. And to end it on a fun note: no matter how strong with the Force she is and how hard she uses it to keep warm, Bal'sara cannot stand cold weather, so she's fully onboard with Felix about Hoth (also calling myself out for a very old ask i ended up not replying. sorry!).

#yes yes took me too long again #brain was melting past few days #today isn't that hot and humid so i'm better #okay so considering i made bal mostly to have a sassy consular that wears fancy clothes could have been worse #okay you know number 8 made me love her #all of this doesn't take her high self-esteem away #(also i realized i got some of her choices wrong haha) #swtor #tagged #oc:bal'sara #legacy (verse): seinna

[ajoy3fanfics]

The happiest moment

FanFiction.net.    AO3

-Snape- I drop the memory into the Pensieve, watching as the magic falls in tendrils, waiting. I’ve gone over this scene more times than I can count, but it’s important. I need to keep it fresh so that I can use it. It’s a familiar torture, a rabbit hole of what ifs, that takes an eternity of climb out of. I’m still crawling my way up.

We’re outside, books piled high on the side of us, and Lily is laughing at something I said. I’m not really the funny type, but Lily thinks I am. I painfully wish others found me as engaging as she did, but then again, I’m unsure if I’d want to spend time with anyone but her. I’m glad she finds my quip amusing; her eyes shine when she’s happy, even if they crinkle and disappear a bit from her smile. Even this I find endearing.

James and his band of thugs are there again, and ready to taunt their favorite past time. I’m not sure what I’ve done to get on their bad side, but the distaste is mutual. I can’t stand how arrogant Potter is, and thankfully, Lily is of the same mind. She’s not usually one to take such a hard stance against someone, but she seems to have made an exception for Potters troop. A small part of me believes it’s because of me.

I hate Potter for many reasons, but his ability to interfere when Lily and I are together is paramount. He’s always intruding on us, throwing insults my way, disturbing us no matter the time or place. Im starting to find that his presence is almost expected if I’m with her. It’s almost as if I’m the afterthought in his horrid visits. My mind moves to a dark place as I wonder if it’s really Lily he’s interested in.

I’m ready to face him, grasping for my wand, but Lily is three steps ahead of me, as usual. She’s pointing her wand with a steady hand, eyes narrowed in a way that I’m sure she thinks looks more menacing than it actually does. He holds his hands up in mock surrender, some asinine comments slipping between his teeth. He smirks, and he’s just looking at her. Lupin reminds Potter that practice starts soon, and the crew turns on their heels to head towards the field. As they walk off, Lily purses her lips together, trying to contain her anger. She whips towards me, asking if I can believe the nerve of them. She tells me they put her house to shame, she has half a mind to march straight to Dumbledore’s office and demand he takes action.

I tell Lily not to waste her breath, that people like Potter don’t deserve her attention, but she is silently fuming from the injustice. I never feel that it’s pity, she has too much respect for me than to do that; she’s angered that her friend was wronged, and I want to kiss her.

“You’re pretty when you’re angry,” I say. The words tumble out before I can stop them and I watch as her eyelashes flutter against her reddening cheeks. When others compliment her, she smiles, wide and all teeth, but when it comes from me, it seems shy, like it’s a secret smile just for her and It’s enough to stir Hope in my belly.

She’s smiling, and the sun is shining and I’ve taken this moment for granted a thousand times before. Not now though, not when she glances up at me, biting her lip to try and contain her happiness. One wouldn’t think she’s shy, this headstrong Gryffindor, but then again, most people don’t know her as well as I do.

“Only when I’m angry?” She asks, lifting her chin with confidence.

“All the time, really,” I say, as I shrug my shoulders, a gesture of confidence i certainly don’t feel. “But especially when you’re mad.”

Her brows shoot up at my admission, and her lip is back between her teeth. For a moment, I worry I’ve gone too far, pushed the boundary of our friendship too much. But I don’t want a friendship, I want to consume her. In my brooding, I don’t even realize she has stepped towards me, only when her hands settle on my shoulders and she places a quick and delicate kiss on my cheek does my brain seem to kick into gear. Quickly, far too for me to even react, she spins around, sitting back on the grass and opening a book.

“Now then,” she begins, and she’s refusing to make eye contact with me, and I’m nothing but smiles. “If we don’t finish this assignment we’re going to spend all weekend in the library. And I don’t particularly like to torture myself on my days off, Severus.” She finally looks my way, and I’m sure my heart has stopped, or maybe started beating double. It’s hard to tell when she smiles like that. “Besides, you promised to take me to Hogsmead. You still owe me a new sugar quill.” She points her finger at me for good measure.

I sit down beside her and nod. If we finish now, that means we’ll have more time together. I want to talk about the kiss, want to pull her to my chest and give her a proper one, but I can wait. We have time.

I raise myself from the Pensieve, gripping the stone edge. It jars me, even all these years later, what a fool I was. I thought there would be time, never thought I would act out the way I did. I want so badly to go back, to earn her attention again. My eyes begin to sting, and I screw them tight to stop the tears. In three short days from that time, I lose her. I don’t need the Pensieve for this memory. It’s ingrained in my soul.

I know what words are about to come out of my mouth. I know that when I say them, she never forgives me. I’m disgusted with myself even as the name slips off my tongue that day, but I’m too angry to stop. I’m angry at potter, for looking at her like she’s his, angry at his friends, for riling him up, taking their turns. Angry at Lily, that she’s always by my side, there to witness it. Angry at myself for being such an outsider that I’m a target.

It doesn’t matter how much I apologize. Days go by, and I beg and I plead, but she won’t answer me. The silent treatment from her might be worse than the cruciatus curse. I wait and I hope, but the damage is done, and I lose her. As our distance grows, I gain the attention of my fellow Slytherins, notably happy that I’m no longer associating with a Mudblood. Lily detests these people, those drawn to the dark arts. All the while I’m with them, I silently beg her to look at me, look at me, look at me. I’d leave them behind, if she’d ask.

But she doesn’t. Lily could have received an Outstanding in avoiding me. Occasionally, she would catch my eye, and Id hope, just for that minute. I want to apologize again, but I can see I’ve hurt her too deeply.

She befriends potter of all people, the brute easily taking my place as she marries him the moment we graduate and it eats away at my soul. The rest of the story spins before me, but at night, alone with my thoughts, I’m allowed to change the past.

I bite my tongue that day. Instead of spitting venom at the girl I love, I fire it at those who deserve it. I finally tell someone about Potter and his trio of brutes, and they’re threatened with expulsion, leaving Lily and I alone. I take her to Hogsmead that weekend, and I kiss her the way I’d been dreaming of for years. I never join the Death Eaters, instead taking up the Orders side. I have to protect her, my muggle-born wife. I can so clearly picture a small home for us, walls lined with books, a room for her to perfect potions, and a little girl that has her eyes.

My happiest moments are ones I never got to live.

#severus snape #snape #snape and lily #snilly #snape fanfiction #harry potter #pining snape #missed chances #light angst

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Shelter (Part Two)

Pairing: Jay White x OFC (Estella)

Word count: 2,814

Content advisory: nothing, really, other than a wee bit of violence

You’ll need to read part one for this to make sense. 

During the course of the next day, I demanded to be able to speak to Hannah and to my cousin, as well as to receive news of the two guards who had accompanied us. None of these requests was granted and at that point I realized that I was not so much a guest in the castle as a prisoner. I couldn't imagine what strategic purpose I would serve but evidently there were political games afoot of which I had no understanding. Finally, after two full days, I was graced by a visit from our host and captor. 

Jay strode into my chambers at least more decently dressed than the night we’d arrived. Still, he wore no coat and he carried a bottle of wine that he drank from liberally as he paced around the room and his expression was far from what one would expect of a man greeting an equal. 

“I understand that you’ve asked to speak to me,” he hissed, eyes lighting on mine like somehow my request had constituted an act of war. 

“You know good and well why I have. You’ve no right keeping my servants and I like prisoners here. We came to you seeking aid and we gave you no reason to feel threatened. What excuse do you have for your behavior?”

“You seem unaware of how things are in these parts. Every week, there are attacks from the Scots in the north. Every week, his majesty in London sends more troops in the name of protecting the border but who keep an eye out to see whose lands can be plundered and claimed for the crown. And every week, dozens of men return dead and dying. You do not get to pass through these parts unmolested, no matter who you are. To gain safe passage, you need to pay the toll.”

“As much as I would like to think such piracy was beneath the noble classes,” I growled, “had you indicated that you were simply a mercenary looking for a reward, I would have offered you plenty. You did not need to resort to kidnapping me and my companions. Even now, though it pains me to entreat with you as an equal, I tell you to name your price. We have already lost time, which we can ill afford. So settle your price, have your grooms prepare our horses and allow us to leave without any further delay.”

Jay’s eyes widened as I spoke and as I finished, he laughed loudly in response. 

“My dear Estella, what a delightful sense of humor you’ve developed,” he chuckled. He walked a slow circle around me, sardonic laughter tumbling from him as he spoke. “You think you’re in a position to give me orders, to tell me what will and won’t happen in my own castle. You and your party arrive out of nowhere, with no proper explanation of what you’re doing in these parts. Your father is a well-established lord whose lands have doubled in size during his lifetime. Your sister is married to one of the most powerful men in the country, an ally of the King who stands to become the lord of half the country if he can establish a stronghold in the north. And you are married into the royal family of Cumbria, whose reach extends further to the east each year. 

“And you would have me believe that you just happened to find yourself stranded on this road, that your clever servants brought you up this way rather than taking the much safer routes to the south?”

He stopped his pacing and stepped close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my face. 

“Estella, dear cousin, why don’t you tell me what your real purpose is here?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I stammered, feeling nervous although I had no reason. “Everything I’ve told you is the truth and I have no ulterior motives. You wound me by suggesting otherwise.”

His blue-green eyes locked onto mine with an expression I couldn’t quite read but which terrified me. I moved to back away from him but he caught my arm and held me in place, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh. A smile that seemed more madness than mirth crossed his face as he walked me backwards until I was pressed against the wall. 

He ran his hand up my arm and cupped my cheek in his hand, pressing his face close to mine. I felt my body running hot and cold in waves, frightened of what he meant to do to me and at the same time wanting to know what was in store. 

“Do you remember the last time we saw each other, Ella?”

I nodded, unsure how to relate this to what had come before. 

“Do you remember when we left your home, how you took your leave of me? Do you remember the kiss on the cheek you gave me?”

His lips pressed against my skin as he spoke and I leaned into the contact, unsure why. 

“I do,” I rasped. “But it was a childish gesture. I didn’t mean…”

I could not think of how to finish the sentence, alarmed and excited as I was at the feeling of his chiseled chest against me, pinning me in place. 

“I’ve thought of it often,” he murmured, lips trailing over my neck and jaw. “I was too young at the time to even understand why it affected me so. But I’ve had more than enough time to reflect on the feelings you stirred in me. Tell me, have I stirred anything in you? Have you thought about me?”

I stammered trying to come up with a response. Of course I had thought of him. I was embarrassed at how I’d imagined that he might be the boy who left and returned a gallant knight of a man, a romantic hero. At the same time, it was obvious he was no hero to me. I was his captive based on his specious ideas about tribal warfare in these parts. Perhaps his licentiousness had made him believe that there were no people with pure and gentle motives any longer. I wanted to understand but it didn’t matter as long as he was keeping me locked in here like an enemy. Nevertheless, I continued to lean into him, lips inclined towards his until they touched almost of their own accord. 

The kiss was slow and tentative but I felt the echoes of it reverberate through every part of my body. I wanted it to continue but he pushed me back roughly against the wall, snapping his body away from mine as if emerging from a trance. I surprised myself by trying to cling to him, although I could think of no reason to do so. But to my embarrassment, he detached himself from me like I was a spider’s web, shoving me away with the same intensity he’d pulled me in. 

“You feign innocence so well, I believe you could seduce all the kings of Europe,” he snarled. “I’m fortunate to have been alerted to your duplicitousness before you could claim my head for your mantle.”

“You wound me. I have been nothing but honest and open with you. You are the one who has played the villain, holding me captive, inventing stories of intrigue between nobles, speaking in riddles when I have told you clearly that I wish only to pass through your lands to my father’s home in Northumbria to see him before he dies.”

There were tears in my eyes and in my voice as I watched his emotionless face glaring back at me. I stepped forward and tried to capture his hand in mine, hoping the contact would remind him of our ancient familial bond, but he swung himself out of my way, leaving me grasping at the air. 

“My father is very sick. My mother is taken sick as well. My only reason for journeying this way is that I might be able to see them and to comfort them. You have seen for yourself the love that we bear each other. How can you imagine that I would have any other reason to travel without my husband, through dangerous country?”

Without meaning to, I stumbled on the word “husband”. I had a husband, of course, but I felt there was some little deceit in calling him such when our marriage had never been fully consummated. Although I knew it was wrong, I felt like the full realization of our marriage hung upon an act I knew precious little about. Nevertheless, I saw Jay’s eyes narrow at my slight hesitance. I wished that I could make him understand that even in a point as irrelevant as this, I was incapable of deceiving him. 

“I think you need more time to think about what it is you’ve come here to do,” he hissed. 

I blinked and immediately felt the stream of tears down my face. “I tell you again that I have been honest with you in every detail. You know as much of what brought me here as I do. There is nothing else to know. Ask my companions if you don’t believe me!”

“Oh I have, and I will,” he retorted, a vicious kind of smile on his face. 

There was a long moment where the two of us stared fire at each other, both of us straining for breath as if we had been in a literal battle, both of us refusing to capitulate. And then, as if obeying some unheard instruction, we were in each other’s arms again, lips straining to come together as our faces brushed against one another. Before we could find our way to a kiss, he thrust me violently away, my facing hitting the stone wall hard enough that I cried out. I looked to him, trying to understand his sudden reversal, but I only saw him hurry from the room, his hand touching the grip of the dagger he wore strapped to his waist. 

I held my aching face, crying into my hands for some time until I finally made my way to the lumpy mattress where I tried to sleep. I didn’t know who this man was, this man I’d called family, this man I believed I once knew and even cared for. I didn’t understand his anger and violence towards me, especially since I knew I’d done nothing to provoke it. But most frightening of all, I did not understand the physical sensations he stirred in me. These were not the feelings I’d had when imagining my own version of the heroes of the books I read. Nor were they feelings of revulsion. In fact, what I felt was the opposite of both of those things at once and I had no idea what that meant. 

These thoughts kept me preoccupied enough that I passed a fitful night and found it difficult to stay awake during the day. The serving women appointed to me tutted their disapproval when they saw how little I consumed of the food they brought. I ignored them, unwilling to engage in even light conversation any longer. I was trapped and maligned and assaulted by feelings I didn’t understand. If all I could do to resist was refuse the food that was brought to me, then I determined I would do that. 

It was late at night when he arrived in my rooms again, this time staggering from the drink, his cheeks visibly flushed even through the thick hairs of his beard. He dropped a platter with food on the table where I was sitting before slouching against the wall. 

“Eat!” he ordered, waving a hand at the food. “You’re not going to starve yourself, so stop being dramatic.”

I glared at him, gathering what pride I could muster, nostrils quivering a little at the scent of the delicious-smelling food before me and at the mix of red wine and musk that wafted from him. 

“Let me and my companions go.”

He gave a sort of barking laugh and staggered over to me, grabbing a crust of bread and some sliced meat that he shoved into my mouth. I struggled instinctively, which only caused him to grab hold of my jaw and clamp his other hand over my nose, forcing me to chew and swallow if I wanted to breathe. By the time I gulped down what he’d given me, I had tears staining my cheeks, something which elicited a nasty little smile from him. 

“So, my dear, are you going to eat on your own or am I going to make you?”

“On my own,” I choked, gingerly picking up another piece of bread and bringing it to my lips. 

He watched as I ate the bread as quickly as I could, struggling to force it down my dry throat. Picking up on this, he jammed the bottle of wine he was holding to my mouth and poured the liquid over my lips. I was able to adjust before too much spilled but he kept the bottle in place until I was spluttering, unable to take any more. 

He took a long drink from the bottle himself, winding his fingers through my hair as he did, pulling me so that I was looking up at him, my face a mess of tears and spittle. As he finished his drink, he leaned down and planted his lips on mine, hard and unkind, crushing my lips between his teeth and mine, enjoying the whimper that escaped me when a little of the wine spilled from his mouth over my tongue. 

“You still think you can play me for a fool?” he snarled. 

He leant forward as if he meant to kiss me again and, as if on instinct, I slid my hand over to where I knew he kept his dagger. By the time he realized what I was doing, I had pulled it free and had the blade against his throat. Intoxicated as he was, I was able to force myself against him, making sure that the blade stayed hard against his most vulnerable point, the blood visibly pumping against it as I pulled him towards the door. 

“Call your guards,” I hissed to him. “But make sure your tone stays gentle.”

He followed my instructions, wild eyes locked on me while I was unable to look directly at him. 

Immediately, the chief of the guard reached for his sword and I pushed the blade a little harder against Jay’s skin. 

“Stay your weapons,” he rasped, frantically gesturing to his men. “Do as she says.”

“Bring my handmaid and my guards to me,” I said as evenly as I could manage. “Prepare our horses and bring them to the front. When we have made our way far enough, I’ll release your master.”

The guards hesitated until Jay nodded and indicated that they should follow my instructions. 

“Are you still going to try to claim that your presence here is innocent?” Jay growled at me. 

“You can think what you want. I’ve tried to treat you as a noble, as an equal, as the friend and cousin I once knew. Now I am a woman whose duty is to her family and I will be damned if I let you stand in my way.”

“Ma’am,” I heard Hannah squeak as she arrived with one of the guards. 

“We are leaving, Hannah. We are going to Northumbria immediately.”

It was a long wait for the guards to bring the men and when they did, I could scarcely believe my eyes. The two strapping lads who had accompanied us to the castle, who had stood as our protectors when we first entered this place, were gone. In their place were two fleshy marionettes, broken and bent, barely capable of standing under their own power for a second or two. 

I felt my breath quicken as I took in the terrible state of their bodies, trying to imagine how I could get all of us safely through to my father’s home. 

“What has happened to you?” I asked as calmly as I could, looking James in the eye. 

“I’m so sorry ma’am,” he murmured, straining to say even that much. 

“What have you done to him?”

As I tried to demand answers from the assembled men, I felt weak and in that moment, the pressure of my blade on Jay’s neck slacked ever so slightly. He realized it even before I did and in an instant I felt my arm painfully twisted and the dagger fall from my grasp. For one second, I locked eyes with James again, only to see him mouth another apology to me. Then I felt the sickening impact of a boot and my face crashed into the stone wall.

#jay white imagine #jay white fanfic #njpw imagine #wrestling fanfic #wayward wrestle writing

[everythingstarwars]

Mine - A Kylo Ren x Reader Fic

Warnings:

- leading up to smut (none in this chapter)

- kissing

- choking

- anger issues

- possible TLJ spoilers?

Chapter Three - You’re Safe Here

Weeks passed, and you saw no more of Ren. This shouldn’t have bothered you quite as much as it did. He was a Commander, after all. Why would he visit? And yet, your desire for familiarity in this bleak, monotonous lifestyle had you scanning the doorway every now and then, heart fluttering with the hope of seeing his face. The notion that Kylo Ren’s masked face had become a source of comfort was almost enough to make you laugh.

That was until one day, roughly 2 months from the day you were brought onboard. A sharp knock on the door alerted you to the emergence of a visitor, and you glanced up from your book (Imperial Legacy, Volume 9), prepared to greet the stormtroopers for their weekly check in.

“You came back,” You said, eyes widening.

Kylo Ren stepped out of the shadows for the millionth time in your brief history with him. He seemed less stiff today. He walked into the room and allowed the door to slide shut, signaling that this would be more than just a short visit. The stormtroopers were nowhere to be seen.

He strode across the cell until he reached you, then stood still - hovering. It seemed like an eternity until he spoke. “I’ve decided to take the duties of checking up on you myself. As one of our more… capable prisoners, you require a higher level of security,” he informed you.

It was almost a compliment.

“Understood.” Was all you said in response. “Sir.” You added after a brief deliberation. This caught him off guard. Kylo brought a cloaked hand to his helmet and ran it over the back, as though stroking his hair in thought. He glanced backward, noticed the simple metal bench at the corner of your room, and approached it to take a seat.

You leaned back against the headboard and smirked. “So, what - are you gonna just watch me do nothing for eternity?”

You didn’t expect a response, and he did not provide one. Reclining once more, you opened up the book and continued to read. While the story - now on a voyage through the particularly murderous years of the Empire - was riveting as always, something had been awoken in the back of your mind. The thrumming of your heart cared not for your persistent ignorance. After a moment, you peered over the crest of the book with a soft gaze and waited until you were sure he was looking you in the eyes. It didn’t take long.

“I don’t mind,” you said, your voice inching toward a whisper.

As the months went by, Kylo returned week after week, just as he had promised. For the most part, he remained silent, stealing away to his secluded corner and dutifully watching you read, write, sing, or sleep - which admittedly, you found a bit disturbing. Informing him of this, he agreed to the surprising promise of waking you up upon his arrival, should you be asleep again in the future. Your respect for him grew little by little.

Conversation was limited. He was not a social creature. Kylo seemed to have no issue keeping silent for hours at a time. However, that was not to say that he was robotic in manner. Many times, you caught him staring at you while reading or writing, or almost-inconspicuously scanning your body from top to bottom as he entered your room. Almost. Occasionally, he would even instigate conversation.

The first time was one day as he sat watching you read the latest Imperial Rule Manual (Volume Twelve: Droid Edition). Walking to the bookshelf, he stooped down and examined the rows of books, most of which had been clearly removed and replaced, returned to their home heavily dog-eared and evidently consumed.

“You read all of these?” He asked. You glanced up from your pages.

You allowed yourself a smirk. “I had nothing else to do.” Keep the explanation short and simple, that was your best move. Somewhere in deep caverns of your mind you registered the fact that your starvation for human contact had led you to treating Kylo Ren like a tentative street cat.

“I’ve always found them incredibly boring.” Kylo admitted. This response wouldn’t have surprised you if the fact that Supreme Leader Kylo Ren speaking to you at all wasn’t the most shocking thing you had experienced to date.

“Oh, they are.”

“You read them anyway? Interesting …”

Was there… amusement in his voice?

“Well, they may be a bit boring but… I agree with most of their beliefs.” The words were true, as was your surprise at his reaction.

“Tell me,” He responded, settling on the floor next to your bed with his back against the bookshelf. For a moment, his villainous guise flickered, and he seemed very normal. Very young. Sitting there next to you, silent and calm, giving you his full attention in a moment of abrupt compassion.

You raised an eyebrow and obeyed, beginning to explain your thoughts on the imperial texts. He didn’t make a sound, allowing you to speak for as long as you wanted and add as much detail as you desired. When you finished, he responded with his own opinions on the matter, and the conversation continued.

It was almost two hours before he stood up to leave. Despite his brief politeness, he left without a word of goodbye and never brought up the conversation again. But from that day on, your dynamic had changed. Kylo Ren was no longer a voiceless captor. He had opened the channels of interaction, and you wanted more.

Over the following months, you began to speak more and more, soon growing almost comfortable with each other. Often he would arrive at your cell only to be greeted by a beaming smile on your face. The two of you discussed literature, history, the beliefs of the empire you already shared, the planets you had visited, and the worlds you yet longed to see. He refused to share any information about himself or his past, but invested fully in any stories you were willing to share or hopes of the future. Contact remained prohibited.

Even in the lightest of times, however, darkness tends to linger. You were occasionally reminded of this. No matter how open Kylo Ren grew to be around you, he was an Imperial Commander, a force of evil, and a Sith.

“There’s a celebration they do, every year at the end of the harvest season. They gather all the younglings and float Lilieans in the river. I used to watch them drift down the riverbanks with my father, until they reached the waterfall, and then whoosh-,” you made a swishing gesture with your hand. “There they would go. Gone forever. But we would do it again the next year.”

You had been conversing with him for about an hour already, and you both were deeply immersed in stories from your childhood. Kylo, curious and willing to listen, and you, passionate and eager to share. The stories brought a smile to your face, in addition to making you a bit homesick.

Kylo nodded. “It sounds beautiful,” he said. You smiled wistfully.

“It was.”

He noticed your expression. “You miss it?”

“Very much so. It has been my home since birth. Wouldn’t you miss yours?”

“No,” he admitted. “I find it surprising that you do.”

You cocked your head. “And why’s that?”

“I had taken you for someone smarter than that. Such sentimentality; attachment to something as meaningless as a planet…”

“A planet that you ravaged,” you reminded him.

Kylo sighed. “When will you understand,” he said eventually. “That sometimes the intent outweighs the outcome?”

You narrowed your eyes. His words rarely angered you, the bar set as low as it was, but somehow these struck a nerve. “Look, I don’t know what your intent was,” you growled, “And I doubt you’ll tell me. But that was my home you destroyed. Those were my people you massacred. And when you took me aboard this ship, it was for doing something that I still believe in. I was protecting them, protecting my family and our legacy.” You were nearly spitting with anger now. You weren’t sure where it had all come from so quickly, but a fire had ignited in your chest and it was futile to resist the flames.

“You imperial beasts have no idea of the lives you are destroying, even less so of the lives you are taking- ” Something silenced you. A tightening in your throat. Your vocal chords were compressed enough to mute them entirely, and soon you felt oxygen begin to diminish in your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. Hands raised to your throat in desperation, you struggled for air that was not supplied.

Kylo approached you. Slowly. Taking his time. His hand was raised in a grasping motion. When he reached you, he kneeled down and leaned in a little too close for your liking. He squeezed his hand and your throat closed along with it.

“Careful what you say next, delicate one. Would be a shame if something happened to your pretty little neck.”

You tried to gasp and failed.

“I would be more careful with your words, moving forward. Not everyone here is as forgiving as I am. And seeing as you consistently defy my orders about staying quiet, you may want to learn to beg for forgiveness soon.”

With a single flick of his wrist, your throat reopened. You inhaled deeply and struggled for breath, gasping and heaving like a fish. He allowed you a moment to regain oxygen. When you felt more stable, you met his glare with one of your own.

“You almost killed me,” you growled.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have.”

You considered this for a moment. The strangulation had not lasted very long, and his force-grip wasn’t as tight as you would have expected. Your throat felt surprisingly devoid of lingering pain. The whole affair seemed to be more of a fear tactic than anything else. It worked.

Furthermore, you found yourself considering his words from before carefully. You were surprised to find you believed him. He was more forgiving than many First Order officers had been so far, that was undeniable. It struck you that you could have gotten in far more trouble than you did for your traitorous words.

You held his gaze in a new light. Shadows of anger remained in your heart, he had still strangled you and he clearly hadn’t lost the fiery nature you had first experienced. But you found yourself able to nod politely and whisper, “I’m sorry, Commander. I understand when to hold my tongue.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t entirely the truth.

He nodded and stole away to the doorframe, where he lingered for a moment. Dramatically, as was the routine with everything he did.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said.

For the first time, he didn’t seem to relish in the candor of his words. He glanced back at you one last time and left the room.

. . .

Weeks passed, and life in solitude continued. The storm troopers returned once again for the weekly-check in. Kylo did not. You couldn’t bring yourself to be sad. If anything, it was almost nice to be able to push him from your mind once and for all. Well, almost.

You hadn’t seen him for an eternity, when one night you were woken by a weight on your shoulder. Something jostled you once. Then twice. After a moment, you were awake and sitting up. Your head felt full of sand. Even with groggy vision, you could tell it was the middle of the night.

Kylo stood at the foot of the bed, his arm extended and his voice impatient.

“Get up,” he instructed. You stood, took his hand, and allowed him to lead you to the door. You registered the fact that your hair must be a mess and your voice was raspy with exhaustion. His wasn’t. Did the guy ever sleep?

“Follow me. Don’t make a sound.” He spoke quietly. When you reached the door he grasped your wrist. In the darkness, you saw the glint of metal and heard a sharp clicking noise. Your bracelet clattered to the floor. With the handcuff removed, he pulled you out of the cell for the first time in months and the two of you took off down a barren hallway. The entire ship was asleep, and the only sound was the monotone humming of an engine somewhere.

“Where are you taking me?” You inquired. His hand was to your throat in an instant. The walking ceased.

“What did I say?” He growled in your ear. His leather glove was cool against the skin of your neck. Your heart thrummed at the feeling. When you tried to breathe, you found you could, just barely. The thought was exciting.

“Apologies, sir,” You submitted as he released you. You hoped the darkness was enough to disguise your smirk.

He resumed his pace, leading you along with him, though he no longer clutched your hand. Willfully, you followed him, more out of curiosity than anything else.

After a couple of hallways that brought no change of scenery, a new thought dawned on you. Your throat closed up without any action from Kylo. Beads of sweat met the skin of your forehead and crystallized in the cold night air.

“Kylo,” You whispered. “Am I going to die?”

He almost stopped, but then seemed to think better of it and keep walking.

“What?”

“Am I being led to my execution? Did they send you to make it easier on me?”

You heard a soft laugh from somewhere inside his helmet. “My presence has grown to soothe you, has it?” He teased.

“I- uh… no.”

“No,” He consoled, “You’re not going to die.”

You sighed in relief, but a million questions remained.

“Then-,” You began.

“Quiet. We’re almost there.”

He took you down one final hallway and the path opened up into a cavernous control room. Blinking lights, abandoned consoles, and empty chairs filled the room. Even at night, it purred with electricity and activity, as if alive in some way. Massive computers lined the walls, and the front of the room was consumed by an enormous floor-to-ceiling window, revealing the vast expanse of space outside.

You walked through it in amazement. A long, glossy pathway through the center guided your way to the window. It was like walking down an aisle. As you passed each computer console, your fingers skimmed the tops enviously, imagining the power contained in just a single one, and what you could do with such ability. So much information, so much control, held in this one single room.

Kylo walked behind you for the first time. He allowed you to take your time admiring the room. You imagined he must be proud. This was his accomplishment, after all. His empire.

The window rose in front of you, tall and enchanting, like a gateway to the outside world. As you grew closer, you began to spot the small dots of stars in the distance, tiny flickering lights that appeared and vanished in your vision. One by one, then clusters, until the entire sky was filled with them. It was a sight you were familiar with, but seeing such wonder from space itself, as though you were another star among them, was different in every way. Your eyes glowed in their light.

Kylo joined you next to the window and watched as you reached out to touch the glass. You recoiled immediately. It was freezing. Colder than anything you had ever felt, as though it would solidify your blood with just one touch.

He ignored your activity and stared out the window. You tried to decipher what he found so interesting and could not, beautiful as the void was. You were about to ask him why he had brought you here, when something caught your eye.

A sliver of light lit up a corner of the window, growing larger and larger by the second. You remembered suddenly that you were on a ship, and it was moving.

The light was being omitted by something far in the distance, many light years away. There were only a couple of celestial bodies that did that.

Kylo gestured to the light - as if you hadn’t noticed - and spoke for the first time in minutes.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, as the ball of light edged into view.

You nodded, recognizing it after a moment. “...Pleione, right? It’s a star,” you responded, smiling. It struck you what was about to happen.

“When it passes our ship in a few minutes, it will generate a mirage of light across the sky.” Kylo voiced what you were just piecing together.

“A sunrise,” you murmured. Sudden excitement consumed you as your scientific brain kicked in. You had seen a sunrise before, of course, but never from a ship. You hadn’t realized it would be possible until now. “From the angle of the destroyer against it’s rays… similar to that of a mini-planet. We’ll actually get to see a sunrise.”

“Indeed,” Kylo confirmed, sounding a bit awestruck. He looked at you, and allowed his gaze to linger for a moment. Had he been expecting you to understand? Wouldn’t most people? You couldn't be sure, but why would he bring you out here otherwise? You wondered what he was thinking.

“Kylo, why did you bring me out here?”

“I figured you missed seeing them,” he answered, still looking at you.

Something stirred in your heart. A genuine act of kindness, of sympathy… from Kylo Ren. It should have surprised you more than it did. Still, the act was unexpected and brought a bright flush to your face despite efforts to remain cool.

His next move surprised you more.

You had turned back to watch the approaching star, when a low click brought your attention back to Kylo. With a sound similar to that of a vacuum cleaner being turned off, his helmet was removed and cast aside. A heavy sound resonated through the room as it hit the floor by his feet.

“Kylo, what’re you…?” You inquired with widening eyes.

He turned to face you, and the man that met your eyes was worlds away from how you envisioned Kylo Ren. He had tumbling black hair, pushed back by the mold of his helmet, that reached the base of his neck in length and curled around his ears ever so slightly. His eyes were a shade of brown so dark they were almost black, and his skin was the color of ivory.

When he smirked at you, he looked so different from the man you thought you had grown to know. So young… so pretty. It struck you how handsome he was, a development you were certain you had not prepared for.

“Well, I can’t see the beauty of the sunrise if I’m wearing a mask, can I?” He said, almost flippantly. His voice, his real voice, mesmerized you. It was low and sonorous, less raspy than it had been with the helmet on yet still slightly cracked. The voice of someone tall, someone warm. Of a man with a young heart but an old soul.

You realized your lips were dry and tried to remember how to breathe.

“Look,” he said, interrupting your swirling thoughts, all too abstract to form words. The sunset had begun.

It began slowly, as though waking up from a long nap. Tiny slivers of warmth crept along the edges of the window. Not too many, not enough to overwhelm. Soon, an entire glowing curve of raw sunlight was visible. Then, the night sky burst to life, massive brushes of colorful light spreading in every direction, painting the sky with its splendor. Every panel of the window was illuminated by a magnificent golden glow, the stars in the distance fading as they were consumed by the light.

It was a spectacle unlike any you had ever seen. It light up Kylo in the warmth as well, his raven-black hair turning a shade of burgundy and his dark eyes glittering gold. You realized it must be doing the same to you.

You both turned to look at each other in awe at the same time and locked eyes. You were smiling, he had a serene look on his face. You looked away first, blushing. His eyes stayed on you.

When it was over and the sky returned to an eerie pitch black, he led you back to your cell.

You stepped inside rubbed your eyes, the effect of waking up so early finally hitting you. Kylo stood in the doorway with his mask in hand, staring at you with a thoughtful expression.

You took a step toward him. Upon receiving no reaction, you took another. And another. Until you were a mere few inches from him. Almost breathing the same air. With tentative slowness, you extended a hand and he met it, allowing you to take his. His hand was nearly twice the size of yours, but his fingers were long and laced gently with yours.

“Thank you for keeping me sane,” You whispered. The words weren’t really enough to express your true gratitude, but it would do for now.

Kylo narrowed his eyes. “I trust this will be enough to keep you behaved for a while?” He asked.

“Very well behaved, Commander,” you teased, moving closer and closer to him. He didn’t stop you.

You were an inch away. Less than. His arms were around you. You weren’t sure when that had happened. Your hands were around his neck. His skin was smooth, and cool to the touch. But his lips were warm when he kissed you.

It happened in an instant, almost too fast to register. You two connected, and all the barriers that had been put up melted away.

His lips were firm, but used gently. He took the lead, wrapping his arms further around your waist and kissing you deeply. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you fought a whimper. How was he so good at this? Your thoughts became giddy. Kylo...kylo...kylo… His lips were magic, his touch electrifying. His upper lip pressed into yours with the perfect amount of pressure, while his bottom lip grazed yours lightly, almost as if trying to open it.

He bit your bottom lip teasingly as he pulled away and a light moan left your mouth. He smirked at the sound. You were certain your face was now flushed completely red and possibly sweaty, but you didn’t care. He looked perfect, still, and he had just kissed you so… passionately. Your mind was too fuzzy with lust to think straight.

Kylo was still looking at you, but it was clear the time had come for him to leave. His eyes were asking a question, and you responded with a nod but reached for his hand one last time.

“I don’t want you to go,” You confessed.

He gazed into your eyes. His expression betrayed nothing, but he squeezed your hand lightly and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“I’ll be back,” he said as he pulled away.

Whether that was a threat or a promise, you couldn’t tell. But a moment later, he was gone.

You stood there standing at the door for long after it closed.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #makeout #daddy kylo coming soon #star wars the last jedi #first order

[user-name-not-found5]

Interrogation Techniques pt.3

Part One 

Part Two

Kylo Ren is determined to get the map out of the Resistance Pilot. By any. Means. Necessary.

Even if that means exploring new ways to sexually psychologically manipulate his victims into getting what he wants.

AU where the map leads to Luke’s new Jedi Temple, where he is training the next generation of Jedi. Poe is a Resistance pilot, who General Leia Organa has put in charge of running the transport routes in order to bring force-sensitive younglings to the temple where they belong. The First Order is headed by Kylo Ren, a fallen Jedi just as Count Dooku was, and he is determined to end the Jedi for good.

Warnings overall: non-con, torture, violence, manipulation, smut, absolutely filthy smut, degrading language, abuse

Warnings for this chapter: sexually frustrated kylo ren, degrading language, torture, and manipulation

Ren’s chest was heaving as he tore down the corridor. Luckily, he was able to control himself until he’d made it into his private quarters. The helmet fell from his hand and hit the floor with a sickening thud as he roared, his lightsaber humming to life with his rage. The feeling in his chest refused to quit, and he lashed out, slashing across nothing, the weightless blade making a red arc through the air. He screamed again, the force strong at his fingertips, and he whirled around, blasting the door with lightning. He could feel someone at the other side, and slammed his lightsaber back onto his belt, scooping his helmet up from the floor. He didn’t bother to turn as he willed the door to open.

“If you’re quite finished with your tantrum, Ren, we have news.”

Hux’s polished boots clicked across the floor, side-stepping the skids of ash along the ground as he brought the data pad inside.

“I thought I made myself clear, General. I am not to be disturbed in my private quarters.”

Hux sniffed. “Well, then I suppose it would do you well to be at the helm. Then I wouldn’t have to come all the way down here to inform you that we discovered something.”

Ren continued to stand silently with his back to the General, but didn’t miss his eye roll.

“We believe that the Resistance pilot was also carrying information about the other squadrons of the Resistance- a flier’s log, if you will. However, unlike the map, it would not have been contained on a drive, and would simply be a ledger of-”

“The pilot won’t give the location of the map drive, what makes you think he will give me a single name on that ledger.” Ren liked how cold the mask could make him sound. Right now, it was masking the heat that he still held, the way his face burned and the dryness in his mouth. Something about that pilot was driving him mad.

“-hadn’t interrupted, you would know that we captured a resistance X-wing. The pilot, sadly, didn’t make it.” Hux grinned devilishly. “Our technicians are inspecting the ship now in case there is a copy of this ledger, or the map, on board.”

“Then tell me when there is any actual progress, and not just conjecture.” Ren snarled. Hux gave him a defiant and clearly agitated sniff before pivoting on his heel and exiting, leaving the Supreme Leader to stew.

Poe blinked a few more times, scared to close his eyes; if he opened them, he might awake to feel Ren’s lips on his neck, or his gloved hands on his body once more. He wasn’t going to sleep, wasn’t even going to let himself shut his eyes too long. His body was aching, the back of his head and scalp throbbing from Ren’s violent pulls. Already he could feel a slight swelling in his lower lip, the edge marred from rough kisses. He shuddered.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispered into the air, tears welling from his eyes. He could still hear the little girl in the back of the ship, BB’s delighted whirs and clicks as they played. The blaster shot fired through his mind again and he choked back a pained sob as he remembered the deafening silence that followed. Who knew where BB-8 was either. Probably being used for spare parts.

“I’m sorry buddy.”

A tear escaped despite his efforts, trailing through the blood stains that had dried and cracked across his cheek. He lay his head back gently, taking a long breath in through his nose. The vision he’d had when Kylo- no, Ren. Just Ren. When Ren had invaded his mind, when the little girl came into the cockpit. Was it real? Did he have any hope? She was force sensitive, he knew that, but she was dead. How could she have reached him? He pushed the thought away. He would have time to grieve her once he’d gotten out of here. And until proven otherwise, no one was coming to rescue him, or knew he was here at all. 

As his mind kicked up an effort to plan, the cell door slid open, and he froze. Ren’s robes floated across the polished floor, until he was faced with the mask again. Ren seemed to be keeping a distance, not within reach to touch him- merely staring into his face.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? You were all over me last time.” Poe’s lopsided grin was painful, but he forced it anyway, hoping to provoke again.

This time, Ren didn’t answer. Didn’t growl, didn’t move, didn’t raise a hand against him. Poe fought the urge to shift under the scrutiny, staring right back at him with his best irritating smile. The silence and distance was agonizing, and Poe opened his mouth to make another snide comment, only to find himself choking on nothing. Ren’s hand twitched in the air as Poe gasped for breath, black spots threatening to cloud his vision. The glove dropped, and Poe wheezed, sucking in air sharply and coughing.

“Stop me.”

Poe wrenched his head up, still hacking. “What? Hk!” His jaw strained as he gasped for breath again, fighting desperately to keep from blacking out as Ren remained across the room, twitching his hand slightly.

“Stop me from suffocating you.”

The shadows around him were closing in, forcing him to focus on the silver of the mask, the last bright thing in the room as he started to collapse. The pressure abruptly stopped, and he gasped meekly, dangling forward in the cuffs. He coughed and spit, desperately sucking all the air he could into his lungs, choking on it. He felt like he’d run 12 parsecs without stopping, all the air sucked from his chest- like it had torn it’s way out, shredding his throat. He continued to gasp and wheeze for a few minutes, spit hanging from his mouth as he continued to inhale.

Ren watched him until his breathing was merely ragged before he moved again, pulling Poe’s head up to look at him. The pilot was still too deprived of oxygen to snark back, or do much more than stare up at him with dazed eyes.

“You can’t use the Force. And yet,” Ren was seething, silently. “Somehow, you continue to evade my attempts to wrench information from that empty head of yours.  Somehow, you were able to memorize a complex route without saving anything to your hyperdrive or ship logs.” Ren gripped his face, forcing his bloodied lips into a sort of smushed pucker. Poe wheezed. “Somehow. You’ve…” He stopped, his mask inches away, close enough that Poe could hear the faintest heavy breathing from the metal filter. He stared blankly, his lungs still screaming for more air after being squeezed so relentlessly. Finally, Ren allowed his head to drop to his chest, and Poe coughed again, spitting blood onto the floor from his wet lip.

“What have the Jedi taught you.”

Ren’s words vibrated through his head as Poe strained to bring his back up against the table again, his wrists white and strained from the cuffs he was hanging from. Slumping against the back, he cast a lazy glance to the shadow in the corner of his vision, not as close as a minute before.

“The Resistance… is coming for you, Ren. And… they won’t stop… until the galaxy is safe…” He rolled his head around, staring into the face of the man who probably would end his life sooner rather than later. “The Jedi… live… again.”

He smiled as Ren brought his hand up again, and as the air retreated from his lungs, the shadows finally consumed him.

#darkpilot #poe dameron smut #poe #Poe Dameron #Star Wars #Star Wars smut #TFA #TLJ #TROS #canon offshoot #my work #writing #smutttt

[shardminds]

The Swan that fell for the Sea (2/3)

Thank you to @itsfabianadocarmo for being so patient with me! This story, at this chapter, clocks in at 10k which is the longest thing I’ve ever written and there’s still one chapter to go! Your gift, my sweet, will continue on into 2020 as work and Christmas and other commitments have kept me from it :( I’m sorry for keeping you waiting but hope you continue to enjoy where this is going ♥ It’s been a pleasure to write for you! 

Another big thanks to @cssecretsanta2k19 for running this fantastic event! You ROCK! 

And, last but not least, we ALL owe a round of applause to @thisonesatellite for 1) putting up with me, 2) calling me out when things don’t make sense and 3) being an unwavering pillar of support through this whole process. THANKS LOVE!

Emma Swan falls for a man of the sea. She doesn’t mean to but she does all the same. The scent of salt and leather and rum lingers on her skin long after he’s gone and, as the warm summer breeze makes way for winter’s icy chill, she wonders if he’ll ever return.

He does, and things will never be the same again.

Part 1 ¦ Also available on AO3 ♠

Emma waits for him.

She waits and waits, dismissing any rational thought that tells her to stop. Four months is a long time but, despite the fallen leaves turning to mulch on beaten passageways in the town, she waits. Sweet ale in her tankard. The memory of a kiss on her lips.

She sneaks out of the palace nearly every night, dressed in plain skirts. The ones that now had her fading into the background, not to be noticed other than by those that looked too closely.

Ruby tries her best to bring the smile back to Emma’s eyes. Sometimes it works; dragging her up to dance and sing, around the people she’d come so close to, unlikely friends among the dirt, slamming tankards together in cheers and living in the moment. Those moments helped, patching up the longing in her heart, however temporarily.

The docks die down in the cold, the revelries of summer no longer calling forth traders and night markets, performers and tourists, or pirates. Emma still visits, hoping to see The Jolly Roger moored up, the crewmen she’d grown familiar with greeting her with fond smiles and the Captain she loves wrapping her in his warm arms, fighting off the ache in her chest that had settled when he left.

It hurts to see it empty.

After such time apart, their summer together seems like a dream. If it weren’t for the chain at her neck, she’d wonder if it happened at all.

She’ll know soon enough. Solstice is tomorrow.

The preparations spread throughout the palace with the first frost; wreaths and garlands adorning the entire place in swaths of green, red and gold, fireplaces eternally lit in an attempt to warm the cold stone floors to no avail. On the rare nights Emma didn’t venture down to the tavern by the shore, burrowed into soft blankets and furs smelling of woodsmoke and frost, she wishes that she wasn’t alone.

A giant spruce, felled recently, lays in the courtyard, a smattering of snow covering its evergreen foliage.

Emma uses it as cover, walking behind it’s thickest part to obscure herself from the prying eyes of servants whose whispers would inevitably make their way back to the ears of her mother. She hasn’t been caught yet, in her months of running away to the docks at the fall of night and crawling back home in the early mornings, but she dreads what would happen if she did.

She dips past the thick shrub along the palace wall that hides a long forgotten passage up, up and up until it reaches just shy of her chambers. In the past, they’d probably been used for more important things – escaping assassinations, fleeing coups but those days were long gone. Misthaven was at peace; her father made sure of that.

She climbs the staircase in the dark. It takes minutes to get to the tapestry-covered exit but, in the pitch black, it stretches seemingly into hours. The sensory deprivation is all-consuming, but she continues on. Exhaustion tugs at Emma’s limbs, causing her to almost lose her footing a couple of times, grabbing the cool stone walls for balance. How long has it been since she slept? Two days? Three? Between fulfilling royal duties and drowning the dull ache in her chest, there isn’t a lot of time for sleep.

When he returns. That’s when she’ll sleep.

Before she can reach to pull the tapestry aside, it’s already gone.

In its place, the Queen.

She’s cast entirely in shadow, light from the corridor outlining her in an ethereal glow but Emma would know that silhouette anywhere.

Fuck.

“If you don’t want your Father to chain you up, I would suggest using the south entrance to sneak in, far less prying eyes this time of year. People are getting wise to your ways.”

Her mother, cinched into an opulent gown that makes Emma’s threadbare and frayed skirts look like rags, fixes her with a questioning look. Despite her age, Queen Snow has always been beautiful, once holding the title of fairest in all the realm for both her rule and her appearance. As her daughter, Emma held a biased opinion, of course, but now, with one groomed eyebrow hiked up, she cultivates the seed of anxiety in Emma’s stomach until its vines wind around her limbs, rooting her in place.

“Mother, I–”

Snow’s expression softens, a cheeky knowing smile replacing any animosity Emma could’ve sworn had been there not seconds earlier. It knocks her back like an unexpected wave.

“Hush, Emma.” She steps to the side, allowing space for Emma to emerge into the empty corridor. Hesitantly, she takes it. The light, albeit dim, is still enough to be blinding after the total void in the passageway. “I too was young once. Come along now.”

“I think the circumstances were slightly different then,” They fall into step together, heading in the direction of Emma’s chambers. Nerves still tingle in the pit of her stomach, sharper and heavier than the crown her mother wears. She hadn’t expected such a… non-issue. If her father found her, she’d be having an entirely different conversation right now. “You were running from a power-hungry sorceress who tried to turn the kingdom against you. I, on the other hand, am under no such duress.”

“My stepmother was– yes. I suppose you’re right.” She muses, looking off into the middle distance as Emma pushes against the dark wood of her bedroom door.

The whole room is immaculately kept, further evidence that it had not been slept in for some time, but the hearth is lit, embers glowing, warmth only spreading as far as the dressing table and doing nothing to bite off the bone-deep chill that settled in Emma’s bones from the walk. On the bed, atop furs and throws and soft pillows, is a dress.

“I assume Father expects me to wear that.” She sighs, picking up the offending article between two fingers. It’s softer to the touch than she expected, pleated silk and silver beads, with elaborate lace sleeves that flare at the wrists.

“You assume correctly.” Her mother nods, taking a seat by the fire and swiping an apple from the fruit basket on her way. “Johanna prepared you a bath so you can make yourself a little more presentable for later.”

“Later?”

“Yes, your Father has requested our presence in one of his meetings this morning, which is why I was so anxious for you to arrive,” Emma rolls her eyes and starts towards the bath, peeling off her outer shirts and leaving a trail of clothes on the floor, leaving her undergarments until she’s safely behind the screen separating the clawfoot tub from the rest of the room. Snow tuts at the mess. “but enough about all that, I do believe I am owed an explanation.”

The water is just a touch cooler than scalding when she steps in, but her mother’s words send a spike of fear down her spine. The girl that exists there, at the docks and taverns, she has no place in this palace. Emma tries her best to shove her down, letting only the Princess remain.

“In order to rule the people, one must know the people.”

“Oh, how diplomatic! We’ll make a Queen of you yet.” Snow calls back, voice laden with sarcasm. “Now, the truth, if you will.”

Emma pauses, letting the heat from the bath sink deeper into her bones. How does she even begin to explain?

Oh yes, Mother. I spend most of my nights at the docks staring at the horizon, waiting for a Pirate, who I seem to have fallen in love with, to return from a voyage I regret refusing to join him on and when it all gets a bit too much, I find solace in drink and frantically attempt to sober myself up on the walk back to the palace at sunrise because I fear you and Father finding out the truth of my whereabouts.

“That is the truth, partly.” Letting her head sink under the water’s embrace, she sighs. The bubbles rise and pop, words she wishes she could say. She trusts her mother implicitly.

She doesn’t, however, trust her father, who would see Killian’s head on a spike if he ever found out.

Her lungs burn when she comes up for air.

“I’m suffocating here.” Emma can’t stop herself, words spilling forth like a burst dam. “My duties are limited to appearances and dinners, where all anyone wants to talk about is who I’m going to marry. I’m the fucking Princess, adored by all and all that rubbish, but I’ve never felt more alone than when I wear that tiara. I’m nowhere near ready to rule. I don’t know the first thing about defending my country and that scares me, but when I’m down there with the people– our people, I can be someone else, even if it’s just for a night.”

For a second, the only sound in the room is the gentle splash of bathwater and the faint crackle of embers.

“Emma–” There’s a creak of furniture followed by the soft clack of heels on the stone floor. Her mother pauses and Emma can see her shadow against the screen.

“Please, Mother.” She pleads, voice unbroken. “Don’t take this from me.”

Snow emerges from behind the screen, an apologetic look casting her face in a sad smile, and reaches for one of the perfumed soaps that had been laid out for Emma to bathe with. Unperturbed by Emma’s nudity, she comes to kneel behind her daughter’s head.

“I spent so much of my youth fighting to get into a palace that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be trapped inside one.” Her fingers, small and dexterous as they are, massage the soap into Emma’s scalp, forming a liberal lather. Tension leaks out of Emma’s shoulders with each touch and, before long, she’s completely lax. They don’t speak, but Killian’s name sticks in her throat, a lump she can’t shift. In another life, were she not a Princess, perhaps she would have the courage to speak it.

Her mother and father have so many tales, stretched across years of rebellion and revolt; of the Evil Queen, of the dwarves sworn to fight by her side, of banditry and betrayals and true love– that’s what Emma had been searching for each night, between dirt and flame and ale. A story, an adventure, something for people to talk about in hushed whispers, of the Swan that fell for the sea.

They don’t have to know that the Swan is their Princess.

Not yet.

Her fingers are pruning in the lukewarm water, body lulled half to sleep, by the time her hair is washed and towel-dried. Her mother sighs, knees creaking as she stands – age has been kind to both her parents but it creeps in slowly, in the silver gracing their temples hidden by golden crowns. It comes for everyone eventually.

“I’ll ask Graham to scale back patrols on the south gate and Johanna to fetch you a better cloak than that which you’ve taken to using,” She starts, placing a fresh towel by the bath side. The satin skirt of her gown is darkened with damp spots from the water, but she pays them no mind, pressing a kiss to the centre of Emma’s forehead. “and please remember that I am always here for you, Emma. I mean it.”

There’s sincerity in her eyes, sincerity and love— so much love, more than Emma can even begin to comprehend, but she trusts it. In the list of moments she would pause for an eternity, this is one of them.

“Mother.”

“Yes, dear?”

Her voice catches, a soft hopeful smile making its way to her lips. “I love you.”

“And I you.” Snow nods, making her way behind the screen, leaving Emma to dress alone. “Meet us in the great hall in an hour.”

When the door shuts softly, confirming her mother’s exit, she emerges from the water.

--

Cold stone walls, cast-iron chandeliers with tall flickering candles, fires in every hearth, stained glass effigies of past kings and queens lit with the late morning sun, eaves decorated with garlands of holly and ivy, and, raised on marble steps, three golden thrones. The great hall really is just that. Great.

Emma grew up here, excited to be involved at first, to wear the tiara her father said she was born to wear.

As time moved on, so did she.

“Emma!” A voice rings out, echoing against stone.

Her father, the King.

Seeing him smiling, lines of age forming around his eyes and mouth, has her own smile falling into place as he walks across the great hall to embrace her, posture never slipping.

As much as she may not enjoy the formalities of her role within the court or the isolation that it’s afforded her, she holds nothing but love and respect for her father. Love and respect and a sliver of fear.

“I was wondering where you managed to run off to.” Emma leans into his embrace, letting herself be wrapped up in his arms. One hand cradles the base of her skull, the way it always does when her father holds her. He pulls back to adjust the silver circlet woven into her curls. “I take it you like the dress, then?”

He takes a step back, admiring the fabric with its delicate drapery and flowing skirts, letting Emma twirl for him to better view the garment. Killian’s ring, tucked between what cleavage her bodice creates, threatens to come free, the weight of it tugging as she turns at her Father’s request. It longs to be free. “I do, Father. Thank you.”

“Excellent.” He nods, holding his arm out for her to take, and she does. “There’s only one audience today so this should be short but I wanted you here as a witness.”

Arm in arm, they walk the carpet running the centre of the room, ascending the marble steps to where their thrones, forged by the finest smiths in Agrabah, stand tall and proud. Emma slides into hers, the metal cold against her legs. It’s the first time in weeks she’s had to be present for an audience, usually boring affairs, with very little involvement on her own part and more just an excuse for David to assure the people of their strong and unified family. It’s true, for the most part.

“I must apologise, Emma,” Kneeling by her feet, David starts. Like this, she can see just how much age has crept into his features, how it lingers in his eyes and in the recede of his hairline and the grey and white peppered throughout his dark blond. “I feel like I’ve been lax on preparing you for what will inevitably be yours.”

“Father–”

He takes her hand in both of his, squeezing reassuringly as Emma’s face changes from confusion to acceptance.

“The crown will be yours, Emma, and I won’t be here to guide you forever. I should’ve done this sooner. From now on, I want you to shadow me in all audiences, all council meetings, everything. If I’m there, I want you by my side. I want you to speak up, to learn, to build your own opinions. I hope I can save you the struggle of finding your feet so, when the crown does come, you’ll hit the ground running.”

The thought of ruling is terrifying.

The thought of ruling without her father’s guidance? Even more so.

If she agrees—

She will never be Swan again.

She looks down at him, a smile, soft as the fur around his neck, meets her there.

“I’d like that.” She nods, wondering if he’s convinced by the lie that comes so naturally.

“Wonderful!” Her father beams, pulling her in for a hug. It’s an awkward angle but it doesn’t last for long. “We’ll start proper preparations after Solstice.”

Soon, David is standing, smoothing the wrinkles from his slacks and shirt before righting the fur edged robe around his shoulders. He’s a picture of opulence and authority. If Emma hadn’t seen him wear his royal garb over a thousand times already, she’d be in awe of it. Privileges of royal life, such as fancy silks and furs, didn’t draw her as they once had. She craved leather and linen and simplicity.

Summer had changed her.

“Who is it that’s requested an audience then?” Tracing the indentations in the arm of her throne, she probed, noting that her father had not divulged that particular information.

“Ah, yes.” He starts, lips pulling into a tight line as he paces before his throne. “I hired some external support on retrieving an item of extreme value from the edge of our kingdom. Upon my wake this morning, I received word that they’d returned and had requested to meet. That’s why I wanted you here today, Emma. To show you that, sometimes, even Kings have to convene with miscreants.” His voice drips with venom on the tail end of his sentence, as if the words burn as they leave his mouth.

She stays silent, the admission, dying on her tongue, that sometimes Princesses convene with miscreants too.

“Your mother will be here soon,” Taking his own seat, her father continues, picking invisible traces of lint from the flowing fur of his robe. “She’s just overseeing Graham’s security detail for the festival, you know how it is.”

That is not, in fact, what her mother is discussing with Graham but it doesn’t seem appropriate to mention it now.

They make idle conversation, discussing alliances and trade deals and all the politics that Emma is expected to learn when she takes her father’s throne. Most of it, she knows from the tutors of her youth but there are intricacies she’s not privy to that David is keen for her to learn. Agrabah will trade wine and jewels for grain when the harsh summers perish their harvests, Arendelle will trade furs, silks and meats when the arctic winters perish theirs. They will reach out in times of bountiful harvest too, offering to send what exotic fruit and spices will survive the voyage. Neverland rarely makes trade requests, their young ruler too stubborn to accept the aid of those his senior.

“Is it true his court is filled with children? I imagine that’s difficult come nap time.” Emma jokes, curiosity sparked by the mention of their most mysterious neighbour.

“Emma!” David scoffs, trying to stifle the laugh that breaks free. Like this, unconcealed laughter causing him to squint, crows feet deep and apparent at the corners, he’s no longer the King. He’s the man that wrapped her up in his furs after she’d fallen through the frozen lake as a child, who smudged cake on her nose every birthday until she was old enough to evade it, who would do anything to see her safe, no matter the consequences. “Wherever did you hear such a thing?”

Killian had told her. They’d been looking through his maps, his shirt covering her modesty and his arms circled around her waist. They hadn’t even made it to the tavern that night, need too prevalent, and after, when they were fully sated, she’d explored his cabin. He let her, watching from the bed as she went from shelf to shelf, admiring his treasures. He’d joined her by the time she reached his desk, never a fan of the distance between them. The maps outlined each realm, annotated with notes in Killian’s own cursive script.

“Neverland,” He’d said, pressing a kiss to her bare neck. “Would be far less treacherous if it wasn’t governed by children.”

She’d raised an eyebrow at him, reluctant to believe, the silent How? written all over her face. He shrugged in response, a smug smirk peering back at her.

“Magic, love.” He’d punctuated the words with a wink and they’d fallen together again, maps forgotten beneath them.

Emma can’t help her own laugh, partially at the memory but mostly at her father. It joins with his, ringing out in the echo of the hall. It’s been a long time since she’s been able to laugh with her father. It feels good.

Her mother appears, hurrying along the carpeted walkway with a determined look on her face. Their laughter dies down as Emma and her father both take her in. She’s flustered, taking the marble steps two at a time before sitting back in her spot on the King’s right. Emma gives her a questioning look at the same time David does. She smooths down flyaways at her temples and adjusts her dress to sit better against the throne before looking up at her family and nodding.

“He’s here.”

As if summoned, there’s a loud knock against the grand wooden doors directly ahead of them, at the foot of the great hall. It echoes against the stone walls, causing the chandeliers to shift slightly with the power of it.

The King straightens up, matching his posture to that of his title, and bellows in response.

“ENTER!”

Emma can feel the creak of the door in her bones as it screeches from the protesting hinges, it swings open slowly, only enough to let through one man before shutting with a slam. The man does not flinch; instead, he begins his walk towards their thrones. He’s familiar in a way that has her on the edge of her seat but his head is hung, thick dark hair touched with grey and white and the angle of her position obscuring his face.

With each step he takes, her heart stutters, he looks like– no, it can’t be. She’d been at the docks the night prior, The Jolly Roger nowhere among its moorings. She’d asked countless merchants and fishermen over the months for news of its return but none could provide any more than Killian had provided her on his departure.

I’ll be back when solstice comes.

Yet, this man, with his battered leather overcoat and dark embroidered waistcoat, strikes a pang of similarity in her she’s never quite felt. If it weren’t for the hook in place of his left hand, she’d have been entirely convinced that the man before them is, in fact–

When at the foot of the marble steps, he raises his head.

David tuts. “Captain Jones. You’re late.”

Emma’s breath catches.

It is him. Killian.

Her Killian.

Here.

She fights– oh, she fights – to keep her face void of emotion, praying the well of tears that threatens to spill at the sight of her love to lay dormant. He’s here. he’s here he’sherehe’sherehe’sherehe’s–

He’s here?

Joy turns to terror in her blood, clawing away until it’s consumed her entirely. He hasn’t yet noticed her or, if he has, he shows no indication of it. His eyes, as tempestuous as the day they met, are rage and fury and fixed only on her father.

Why is he here?

“Apologies, your Majesty.” He bites out, voice clipped and sarcastic. She has to bite the inside of her mouth to stop from smiling. “I’ve had to adjust to captaining a ship with one hand as the bloody dragon you neglected to warn me of seemed to enjoy slicing off my other one.”

He holds up his left arm, from under the wind-battered leather sleeve of his overcoat, the awkward brace of the prosthetic sits, a vicious curved hook attached to its end.

Emma gasps. The Swan he loves writhes beneath the surface of her skin, itching to be free.

“You knew the risks, Captain.” Her father adds, flippantly. “Treasure troves often acquire pests.”

Killian’s stare is fire and daggers, meant for no one but the King. It fills her veins with ice in a way she never knew he was capable of. In their time together, this was a side of him he’d never had to reveal. Emma wants nothing more than to go to him but she’s stuck on her throne, it’s golden embrace holding her tight as she watches steel form in her lover’s eyes.

“I have cleared you of all outstanding sentences, bounties and warrants held against you and your men and there’s five hundred gold ready to be transported to your ship,” David continues, motioning to the same doors Killian had entered through. His tone is terse, sharp as a blade’s edge. “I have upheld my end of our agreement.”

Killian scoffs, his eyes glance at her for less than a second and Emma’s stomach drops, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on who she is, refocusing his sights on the King.

She’s not sure what would hurt more, for him to know she lied or for him to not recognise her at all.

“I lost four men and a hand. Aye, we knew the risks, but the situation was not as you’d explained. We walked in unprepared and were almost destroyed because of it.”

“I trusted you with the information from my scouts, Captain. I hid nothing from you. Your lack of preparation is through no fault of mine.”

“Had I known the truth, I would not have lead my crew like lambs to the slaughter!” He shouts, looking for somewhere, anywhere to plant the seed of his own mistake. Beneath it all, Emma knows he’s in pain. She can hear it. She longs to soothe it. She cannot.

The King matches his shout, standing in the process. “That was your decision to make!”

A low growl rumbles between them and Emma doesn’t need to see it to know it’s Killian’s. The sound of it has imprinted itself in her mind, from when times were much simpler. He takes a step forward, but before his boot can even make contact with the polished marble step, David reacts.

Time slows to a halt with the familiar sing of unsheathed metal as her Father trains his sword on the approaching threat, poised to strike at a seconds notice. The breath leaves Emma’s lungs, stolen by the deadly sheen of steel forged in the belly of a long-dead beast. She wants to scream, to put herself between her lover and her father, she wants to but her feet are lead and her tongue is ash and all she can do is watch as Killian stares down the length of the King’s blade.

Killian’s eyes widen momentarily, fixed to the point mere inches from his face. It reaches almost to his throat, barely a step separating the tip of the blade from its target. Her father, the King, is power and justice with calculating eyes and, in that moment, Emma is afraid.

“One more step, Pirate.” The King spits, blade unwavering in his palm.

Emma’s heart stops, or maybe it’s racing, anxiety permeating every pump as it speeds faster and faster, fight or flight response triggered by the furrow forming in Killian’s brow. He does not step back and his eyes do not leave David’s.

“Don’t think the presence of my wife or daughter will impede me.”

“Father.” Her voice catches before she can even think to stop it, more forceful than she anticipates. David turns to her in complete silence, his gaze smouldering anger and his sword still trained mere inches from Killian’s throat. He’s met with her own powerful stare. One day, he expects her to rule this kingdom. One day, she will. It’s frightening and her stomach churns as the urge to bend to her father’s– no, the King’s will stirs within her.

Emma ignores it.

“Be rational, there’s been too much blood spilt already.”

The King’s fury softens, but doesn’t disappear completely. She half expects a reprimand for her outburst or at least a look to convey his disapproval but it never comes. He turns back to Killian, allowing Emma to do the same.

If he had been ignorant of her identity before, there’s no way to hide it now.

She can see the cogs turning in Killian’s mind as he takes her in; the top of her head and the circlet glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows, her face and the sad eyes he’ll find there, her neck and his own thick chain tucked beneath lace. He goes no further. At the sight of his own ring, something breaks within him. Emma can almost hear the shatter from where she sits. He is here but he’s never been further away and it’s killing her.

So many things she should’ve said cross her mind all at once, screaming inside her skull, begging to be freed.

Despair and disbelief flash across his features–

And then it’s gone.

He faces David once again, the fire and fury he once held now calm and cold.

“I apologise for my manners, your Majesty,” He begins, his voice is controlled and a vision of decorum. Not Killian. Not her Killian. “I am not myself. Those men, they were brothers to me. It’s– It’s my fault. I could not protect them.” Taking two steps back, he bows, low and deliberate. David lowers his sword but doesn’t sheath it.

“My daughter thinks you’re deserving of mercy.” He muses, waving a hand towards her that Killian’s eyes don’t follow. It hurts a little. “I suggest you take your gold and leave before I ask my wife what she thinks.”

The Queen, sitting silently throughout the whole exchange, raises a single brow at Killian.

He nods, opening his mouth as if to speak before thinking better of it and turning away, coat billowing behind him, footsteps muffled by the carpeted walkway.

“I thought you a better man than most, Captain, agreeing to undertake such a perilous task for the chance to pardon your crew, give them clean slates. I admired you for it.” David shouts after him, returning his sword to its place at his hip. Killian stops in his tracks, turning only slightly to look upon the King’s face. For a second, there’s grief in his eyes, genuine hurt that Emma knows she put there. He blinks it away without acknowledging it ever existed.

“I am truly sorry for your loss.” David continues, all traces of anger gone from his voice. “But, disrespect me again and I’ll have you hanged.”

The slam of the door shatters the paralysis she’d fallen under, lips parted and eyes wide, watching the space where Killian had been not seconds before. The weight of David’s words hang in the silence.

#csssecretsanta2k19 #itsfabianadocarmo #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #captain duckling #ficminds #the swan that fell for the sea

[harrieatthemet]

Kids III

in which Anne yells and you bring up the dead goldfish.

She’s really yelled at him good. 

The kind of yelling that makes someone flush, short of breath, the veins in the neck more prominent and eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. She’s done it before, sparingly, but she’s done it before. 

She’d raised her voice at him when he got into the garden years back and ripped out all the tulips she had planted. And she’ll never forget the look on his face when she scolded him in the dairy aisle at the supermarket for throwing a container of yogurt at Gemma. Maybe there had been one or two other occasions where she’d lost her temper, but she couldn’t remember. 

And there was never any issue that arose where she couldn’t fix it with her words. She was wise, and if anything, as logical as possible. She was Harry’s confidant and she thrived off that. Problems big or small were always brought to her, and solved by her. 

But this one thing in particular, the source of this vehement argument taking place literally right in front of her, that may have surpassed motherly wisdom. 

“One hell of a gift it is, Harry,” your voice is shrieking so loud Anne’s sure that she’s already blown one of her eardrums, “blowing up like this on your mother’s birthday.” 

The urge to want to crawl into her own skin is almost consuming her when she hears Harry’s voice come thundering back in response, practically falling short of breath as he tries to get a word in edge wise. And she thinks that, before this manages to spiral into something worse if it’s even possible, maybe now is a good time to place herself in the middle. And she does open her mouth to speak, until she’s promptly overpowered by the shrillness of your voice. 

“You humiliated me! Wanted to embarrass me in front of a big group of people? Was that your plan?”

“Did it work?”

She’s never really seen him this cross before. Sure she’s seen him angry, plenty of times. She’s seen him frustrated, fed up, but not quite like this. And at first, maybe she understood. If anyone knows how badly he’s been aching for a child of his own, it’s Anne. But this was almost unnerving.

“Well maybe you should just go find someone else,” you hiss, “someone who wants a baby, if you can’t get past this.”

It was really just a passing thought in your head. Nothing much more than a low blow, something to fuel the fire and maybe even piss him off a little bit. And maybe you shouldn’t have said it all. Maybe it should’ve remained as one of those things you just keep to yourself, be

“If m’being honest, think I will!”

“S’enough!”

She’s decided to break her vow of silence. Partially because she doesn’t know how much longer her eardrums could go without one of them bursting, and more so because she’s found herself aghast, even a bit dumbfounded, at how far Harry’s willing to take this argument. 

But the estranged, and definitely unusual sound of Anne’s bellowing shout was enough to lower his voice. Yours too, even though you were at a loss for words either way. 

She can see the look on your face very well, and knows as much as Harry does that you’re only seconds from tears. And it’s technically still her birthday, so she’s willing to take advantage of that in order to avoid any tears and another minute of screaming and shrieking. 

“This,” she growls, arms flailing in exasperation, “is not how two people communicate, understand? Y’can talk it out like adults, or go off apart from one another until y’bloody figure out how to communicate without saying hurtful things.” 

He’s still seething. It’s scribbled all over his face, the way his arms are folded, how he rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath each time he glances over at you. 

And your chest is still burning, eyes still glossed with tears and breathing still ragged and uneven. You can feel your stomach clenching, the words he spat on you on a taunting loop in your head. Over and over and over and over again. And you can tell he’s not feeling a lot of remorse, if any, because he still can't bring himself to look at you for more than a few minutes. 

“M’going to bed,” Anne’s voice cracks the silence, her hand reaching for her bag, “two of y’wore me out.” 

It’s almost like your glued to your spot. Your feet are punishing you and your body is stuck, because regardless of how badly you want to recoil to your bedroom your body refuses to move. And the two of you stand there for a minute or two, feverishly avoiding each other’s gaze. His arms are still folded, and the silence is so dense you can almost feel it choking you. 

And you consider saying something, offering the chance at a civil and leveled conversation. Your lips even move a bit and your mouth opens to speak, but he doesn’t allow you the privilege. Instead, he turns on his heel, sucking in a breath before walking out of the room and slithering off down the hall. 

The silence in your bedroom is just as stiff as it was downstairs. Except now it’s only you, back flat against the mattress while your eyes keep their stare stuck to the shadow of the tree casted by the outdoor light. Your thoughts are all jumbled together, mind moving faster than it should be this late at night. And you’re still reeling from the argument, nervous to hear what Anne will have for you in the morning. 

“Sleeping?”

His voice is an emotionless murmur, his fingers curling around the door as he pokes his head in. With him he brings in a bit of light, letting a sliver of it pour into the bedroom as he waits for you to answer. He thinks he’s missed his chance. Your a lump on the bed, slathered in sheets and a duvet. And he frowns a bit when he sees the set up on his side, how you placed two pillows so that it wouldn’t be completely empty when you rolled over in the middle of the night. 

“I’m too tired to fight, Harry.” your waving your white flag now, eyes still stuck to the ceiling. 

“Didn’t come t’fight.” 

He takes that as a way to introduce himself to the room. His fingers blindly search for the light switch, bringing them to a dim before he closes the door behind him. 

And if he felt bad before, he feels even shittier now, because he can tell you’ve let a few tears go astray just by the way your eyes are irritated and your expression is beat. He’s beat too, though. If you thought being ignored sucked, ignoring you was just as hard. 

Theres a bit of space on the end of the bed before he consumes it, throwing his legs up to sit parallel to you as you sit upright across from him. 

Clearly he didn’t plan this very well. He has no idea how to start, what the right thing to say would be. He can tell, very clearly, that you’re as defeated as he is. He thinks apologizing might be a good kick off to a long overdue conversation, but he’s not sure what he’s sorry for quite yet. He’s not sure if his apology would be justified if he genuinely didn’t mean it. 

“I’d be a shitty mom.” you joke, but he doesn’t laugh, he just frowns with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t think so.”

“Harry,” you sigh, disappointment a hallow but evident undertone, “I killed all 4 of our fish.” 

For a second, he thinks he might explode. He’s momentarily under the impression that all this, all the fighting and hostility and silence was over some stupid fucking fish you brought home from a street carnival.

“They were fish.”

“You’re missing the point.”

But he keeps his mouth shut, anyways. His lips are sealed tight because, okay, maybe he is missing the point. And he really does not have it in him to seek out another screaming match, especially with Anne just down the hall. 

“I forgot to feed them because I was busy,” you insist, “I’m working all the time, Harry. I’ve set a goal for myself and I’m working towards that, you know how that is.” 

He wants to rebuke. So badly. He’s familiar with goals, he’s set plenty of them. He’s spent most of the hours in a day working towards accomplishing them. A lot of his time for the better half of his life has gone into getting towards those goals. So as badly as he wants to come with a rebuttal, he doesn't, because he does know how that is. All too well. 

“Yeah,” he exhales, “yeah, I know.” 

“Know you don’t wanna hear it but a baby right now would just make it so much harder for me.” 

He doesn’t wanna hear it. He never wanted to, still doesn’t. Even in a levelheaded, calm conversation, it still stings a little. And he can’t surprise the look of disappointment on his face when he hears it again, as much as he would like to for your sake. 

“There’s things I wanna do first,” you acknowledge, “before I can say I want a baby. Could take me a year, two, I don’t know, three or four even? It’s not fair of you to wait for me to be ready for a baby when you want one right now, soon.”

A brief moment of silence is slotted for thought, to which he takes advantage of. With brows furrowed together, expression flustered as he submits himself to thought, he thinks about it. He’s thinking about it. 

“I won’t make you stay,” you sigh, but your voice is wavering just enough to let him know your composure is cracking, “isn’t fair of me to ask you to give up anything, either. And I don’t want you to wait for me to be ready for kids when you want them so soon. Could be a few years, Harry.” 

“Wouldn’t be a shitty mom,” he encourages, and you playfully roll your eyes when you think about the fish, “couldn’t be.”

You’re waiting for the crushing blow. And you’ve fully prepared yourself for the heartache to follow, for the words to come out and for him to admit he doesn’t wanna wait. You’ve put the offer on the table and provided him the option freely, knowing the price you’ll pay and knowing it’ll be along the lines of one of the toughest pills to swallow. So when he opens his mouth to speak you can’t help but literally hold your breath. 

“I’ll wait ten if I need to.” he smirks, and you can finally let that breath go.

#harry blurbs #harry styles blurbs #harry concepts #harry styles concepts #harry imagines #harry styles imagines #harry one shots #harry styles one shots #harry x y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry x you #harry styles x you #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry fic #harry styles fic #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry blurb #harry styles blurb #harry concept #harry styles concept #harry imagine #harry styles imagine #harry one shot #harry styles one shot

[maluminspace]

“You smell really nice” with Michael pls ❤️❤️❤️ - @h0tsos

Hi lovely! 💗

This version of Michael is my absolute favourite, so I really hope you enjoy reading about him 🥰

B19 “You smell really nice”

The rest of your friends have long since retreated inside. You can’t really blame them, it’s starting to get late and, what had began as a warm summer evening was quickly becoming much cooler.

It’s hard to care about any of that though. You can barely feel the cold night closing in on you when the little bonfire is still crackling away in front of you and Michael Clifford is sitting cross legged on the grass beside you.

The beautiful man that you’ve had a crush on for forever, looks particularly cute tonight. He looks soft in his black jeans and the oversized black hooded sweater he’d just shuffled into. His golden hair is ruffled from where he’d pulled the garment over his head and somehow makes him look even more adorable.

You’re sort of annoyed with yourself, if you’re entirely honest. After all, Michael is just a man - simply a friend of a friend that probably doesn’t even deserve all of the space in your mind that he takes up on a daily basis. Despite being generally a pretty logical person, you can’t give into your sensible side on this. The undeniable truth is, you’ve never been this hung up on anyone before.

Michael’s eyes are twinkling prettily in the firelight as he gestures with his sweater paws. He’s telling you about one of the many times he and his friends had gotten up to some drunken mischief. You can’t really concentrate on his words, though. The fact that you’re finally alone with your long-term crush is the only thing your mind will focus on as your gaze drifts once again to Michael’s full, pink lips.

“…and then Luke fell over this low wall and all the rest of us could see was his lanky legs sticking up like massive twigs with sparkly boots on the end of them!” Michael giggles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the strength of his merriment.

You allow a little laugh to slip past your own lips but you’re mostly just staring at this beautiful man next to you, unable to think of anything to add to the conversation.

Even after his laughter dies away, Michael’s wide smile remains on his face as he turns slightly to meet your gaze. The firelight casts flickering shadows over his handsome face, but he’s close enough that you can still appreciate every small detail, from the shape of his cute nose to the exact shade of his sparkling green eyes.

It’s hard to tell how much time passes. You’re sort of entranced by the soft eye contact and it’s only when Michael’s smile fades, that you realise the length of silence passing between you is now bordering on uncomfortable.

You drop your gaze, slightly embarrassed by the undoubtedly dopey expression on your face. You fiddle nervously with the cuffs of your denim jacket, hoping that Michael assumes your silence is due to anything other than the all-consuming admiration you have for him.

“You look a little cold.” Michael mutters, his voice sounding uncharacteristically shy.

You can’t quite bring yourself to meet his eye again, worried that you’ll end up actually drooling or doing something else that’s equally as embarrassing. You simply nod distractedly, feigning interest in the flickering flames in front of you. In your peripheral vision, you notice Michael shuffle closer to you, his movements hesitant and a little clumsy. You fight to keep your gaze aimed at the bonfire, not sure how to deal with the feelings building in your chest as Michael tentatively wraps one arm around your shoulders.

Unable to form words you simply lean into his hold, ensuring that he knows the contact is more than welcome. For a long moment the only sounds come from the burning wood a few feet away from you and you try to use it to ground you, afraid that you’ll actually panic if you allow yourself to fully believe what’s happening.

Despite the otherwise comfortable silence, a slight awkwardness is lingering beneath the surface. Having not spoken for quite some time now, you know it has to be you that starts the next conversation. Unable to think of anything particularly smart or funny to say, the words “you smell really nice…” tumble from your lips.

Your instant regret at letting the borderline creepy comment come out of your mouth, fades a little as Michael chuckles, the beautiful sound giving you the confidence to lift your gaze back to his face. “It bodes well that the smell of beer and bonfire smoke impresses you.” He chides, stroking your shoulder soothingly over your jacket.

You automatically raise an inquisitive eyebrow, unsure of what he means. It’s hard not to wonder why he cares at all what would impress you.

Michael’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pale pink as he suddenly becomes shy again. “It’s just that… Well, I’m having a few friends over to my place next Friday and I kind of hoped you’d come.” He babbles, clearly nervous. “But all that we really do is sit around a fire in my back yard and drink beer so…”

“That sounds nice.” You smile, somehow mustering the presence of mind to help him stop bumbling. “I’d love to come to your fire and beer… thing.” You laugh at your own idiocy but luckily Michael giggles along with you.

“That kind of makes it sound like a drunken ritual or something.” He laughs. “I promise we don’t like… try to summon demons or anything.”

You give an exaggerated pout, feigning disappointment. “Damn, maybe I won’t bother then, I was only interested in the ritualistic element.” You joke, surprised at how quickly your nerves are vanishing now that you’ve mustered the courage to speak in the first place.

“Well I plan on ordering pizza, if that helps to convince you to come.” He shrugs, his smile reaching his eyes again. “I’m also known for my amazing snack and alcoholic beverage options so…”

“In that case, I couldn’t possibly refuse.” You concede, all too aware of the slight smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “I’m always up for a good pizza, even when it’s not accompanied with supernatural rituals.”

Michael lets out a little laugh as he rests his head against yours. “Well that’s good to know, I can’t say I’m well practiced in the dark arts.” He mutters, staring to the flames of the bonfire yet again.

Another long moment of silence passes between the two of you but it’s much more comfortable this time. You muster up the courage to wrap your arm around his waist, keeping your bodies as close as possible. You can always argue that it’s solely for the purpose of keeping warm if Michael calls you out on it.

He doesn’t, though. He simply tightens his hold on you, silently confirming that he’s happy with the contact before he speaks again. “We should probably go inside soon.” He mumbles quietly a few moments later. “It’s getting pretty cold out here.”

You whine sadly, stubbornly refusing to move first because that would mean untangling your fingers from the back of Michael’s sweater, and that’s not something you want to do just yet. “It’s nice out here, though.” You argue lightly. “I can actually listen to your stories without straining to hear you over Calum and Luke arguing loudly about who can down the most shots of tequila in under a minute. Also, that ended in a huge pukey mess last time… I’d rather not see that again!”

“No!” Michael groans lowly. “I’d forgotten you were there that night!” He grumbles, a deep blush colouring his cheeks again. “I was so fucking drunk, I made a complete fool of myself.”

You giggle, remembering Michael’s scrunched up, sweaty face as he enthusiastically played air guitar to old metal music with Ashton, your mutual friend. “You were just having fun!” You insist lightly. “It was actually really adorable.”

Surprisingly Michael’s blush deepens even further and his bashful little grin makes you far less self conscious about the daring words you’d just spilled.

“You think I’m adorable?” He asks nervously, pulling back a little so that he can look you in the eye.

You give him a small nod, complete with a slightly hesitant smile that’s probably bordering on a smirk. “Very adorable, actually.”

The eye contact you’re sharing becomes tense and your heart practically jumps into your throat when Michael’s gaze drifts momentarily to your lips. “That’s not usually a word people use to describe me.” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“Well, you’ll learn very quickly that I’m not like most people.” You shrug, fully aware that you’re definitely smirking now.

“I’ve already noticed that, actually.” He chuckles softly, “that’s why I’d um…” he swallows hard as his eyes become wide like he’s scared of finishing his sentence.

You smile encouragingly, finally detangling your fingers from his sweater in favour of brushing a strand of his golden hair out of his face.

“That’s why I… why I’d like you to come to my party as more than my friend…” Michael blusters, his words running into one another in an anxious ramble.

Your heart is beating out a fast rhythm in your chest, is Michael really trying to… before you can even finish asking yourself the question he takes a deep breath and continues his sentence a little slower. “What I’m trying to ask is, would you come to the party as my date?”

The smile that bursts across your face couldn’t be bigger as you nod. “I’d like that.” You confirm, your cheeks already hurting from smiling hard.

Michael returns your grin, clearly relieved that you’d said yes. It’s obvious that neither of you really know what to say next and a slightly awkward silence descends around you.

Ultimately you opt to break the tension yourself, concluding that Michael is far more shy and awkward when it comes to this stuff than you’d imagined. “Does that mean I’ll get first dibs on the pizza and beer?” You ask, hoping the lighthearted comment will help Michael relax a little.

“Definitely.” He replies brightly. “I’ll make sure you benefit from all of the ‘I’m dating the host’ perks.”

You giggle like a giddy child and shuffle closer to Michael again, already missing his body heat. “I think the biggest ‘perk’ of dating the host, is that the host will be you, actually.” 

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Masterlist

#michael blurb #michael imagine #michael fic #michael clifford fic #michael clifford blurb #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos fic #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer #200 dialogue quotes #my writing #h0tsos

[shotsbyshae]

Eyes Closed (Part 3)

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Words: 2.7k

Pairing: Steve x Witch!Reader, Bucky x Witch!Reader

Summary: Steve’s just trying to keep a promise he made to his best friend.

Song: Eyes Closed by Halsey

Would've gave it all for you, cared for you.

6 Years Ago

Ally was innocent in all of this; Hydra had wanted you, but you weren’t home when they broke into the apartment the two of you had shared, so they took her instead – collateral. They’d heard the rumors from your previous handlers of the power lurking just below the surface, a power you had refused to unleash.

By the time you and the four-member team (Stark, Wilson, Barnes, and Romanoff) had found the Hydra base it was too late. You had walked in to find Ally tied to a chair in the center of the room, trails of blood down the front of her blouse from the gaping wound across her neck. All the life drained from her young, beautiful face. Bucky had tried to keep you from seeing her, but it was too late, he could see the change in your demeanor – the rage in your eyes. No one else on the team was sure why the building began to shake ever so slightly as you ran outside, but Tony had his theories as he watched the dark-haired soldier follow after you. That was the day your life changed, something broke inside you seeing Ally’s lifeless body, but looking back that was also the day you gained something else.

*

“Don’t,” you warn from the edge of the tree line, watching as the man moves cautiously towards you. You’d tried to run as far from the building – as far away from the team – as possible. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Barnes doesn’t stop his advance, “I guess that’s a chance we’re going to have to take.”

“Please,” your veins are burning white hot and every muscle in your body is electrified. Your voice is weak and frantic. “I can’t control it – not when it’s like this – it’s too much.”

He slowly takes your hands in his, one at a time, the cool metal from the prosthetic arm is a welcomed relief to your burning skin. “Well I’m not leaving you out here alone, this is what they want, to push you over the edge.”

Angry, hot tears well up at the thought of Ally and you close your eyes tightly.

“Don’t be who they want you to become,” his words are surprisingly soft as his hands gently squeeze yours. “You’re more than that – just breathe.”

You do as he instructs, the fire still raging just beneath the surface. It takes a moment for the anger to subside and grief to take its place, chilling you to the bone as tears begin to fall silently. The heartache diminishes the uncontrollable feeling you had. The two coincide – grief and anger – only one unleashes that power within you. You drop your head as you let the sadness consume you, sobbing at the thought of your friend and her innocence. Bucky pulls you closer to him, releasing your hands as he envelopes you in his arms.

After that day it became a ritual, much like Natasha with Bruce, anytime you were too close to the edge, Bucky was the one sent in to bring you back down. He was never afraid of you and supported your powers because they were a part of you, no matter how much you hated them.

5 Years Ago

“Barnes,” Stark’s voice comes across the earpiece frantically. “You got eyes on her? I have a feeling that’s not an earthquake.”

The soldier is already on his way up the stairs to you, knowing that dealing with Hydra is always a little more intense for you than any other missions. Intense scenarios don’t mix well with your power, although he’s trying to help you work on controlling that too.

“Hey,” he says calmly entering the room, taking note of the three Hydra agents lying on the floor around you. “You good?” He can see the look in your eyes as you glance up at him, sweat beading up on your forehead, and it’s a look he’s grown fond of. It’s not pride or enjoyment he gets from it, but rather an honor – a privilege – to be the one person you turn to.

“I need – a minute,” you say breathlessly. You can hear the rattle, clings, and clangs of everything in the room as the whole building trembles underneath you. “This was a lot.”

Barnes lays his weapon down on the desk as he moves closer to you, “Come here.” He reaches for you and you turn to him, pressing your forehead against the front of his suit as your hands cling to his arms.  

“Talk to me,” you say, closing your eyes tightly. The sound of glass cracking and wood splintering is only making matters worse. “I need to take my mind off it.”

Bucky glances around, knowing he needs to do something quickly before the whole building collapses around you and he begins, his voice a bit off-key, “Somebody said you had a new friend, does she love you better than I can?” He tries to get the rhythm right as he continues, “There’s a big black sky over my town, I know where you’re at, I bet she’s around.”

You tilt your head back to look at him in utter disbelief, “Are you singing Robyn?”

“Yea I know it’s stupid,” he smirks at you, noticing that the building is beginning to settle as you continue to look at him in complete awe. “I just gotta see it for myself.”

“I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her,” you slowly being to sing along with him. “Oohh.” The pain is subsiding as your body temperature slowly returns to normal. “I’m right over here, why can’t you see me? Oohh.” A smirk crosses your lips as you shove his shoulder playfully, “You have been listening to my playlist, jerk.”

“Least it wasn’t Jonas Brothers,” Stark’s voice comes across both their coms.

“Can we make this mandatory for every mission?” Sam’s voice states through their earpieces. “Maybe next time a little Beyoncé.”

“Or next time I’ll just let her bring the building down,” Barnes winks at you, his blue eyes contrasting brightly against the dirt and grime on his face.

Present Day

The next morning you’re leaning against counter in the kitchen, sipping carefully from a cup of coffee, trying to not think about having slept with Steve last night. Sex you could handle. It was physical – a release – something complete strangers do. Maybe you’re overthinking things, but actually sleeping together, your body curled into his was more intimate.

The pop of the toaster jerks you out for your thoughts as Steve eases his way into the kitchen, “Morning.”

“Hey,” you respond, pointing across to the with freshly toasted bread sitting peacefully between the two slots of the toaster.  “I made breakfast.”

“I’m impressed,” he smirks.

“You should be,” you remark as he moves to make him a cup of coffee.

“Once you finish, call Tony about last night and then get ready,” Steve instructs with a half-smile. “I have an idea for today.”

You cock an eyebrow at him curiously as you take another sip of your coffee.

***

“What are we doing here?” You question Steve as the two of you make your way along the river walkway toward a carousel. It’s been years since you’ve been here, it used to be one of your favorite places back when the world was right. However, now the carousel looks deserted – desolate – nowhere near the brightly lit, colorful attraction it once was.

“You used to love this place,” Rogers states knowingly and you furrow your brow in confusion. You watch as Steve makes his way around the outside of the merry-go-round searching for something. After a moment, the lights and music suddenly come to life and you take a step back in surprise as Steve walks back around with his arms held out in triumph.

“Hop on,” he orders with a smile and you do as he says, watching as he fiddles with the controls at the small operator’s booth. You pick a beautifully painted white horse with red and gold details, then pull yourself up to straddle the fiberglass creature as the carousel begins to spin slowly, creaking and popping as it comes back to life. As it makes a complete turn, you realize Steve’s no longer at the operator’s booth and you begin to look around for him. “Hey.” His words startle you, he’s so close you can feel the warmth of his body near your thigh as your horse slowly rises and falls in rhythm with the other horses.

“How did you know about this place?” You wrap your hands around the steel pole in front of you, before leaning your temple against it.

“How do you think?”

You roll your eyes, “Was there anything about me he didn’t tell you?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay, so why bring me here?”

The look in his eyes sincere, “When’s the last time you took a moment to breathe?”

You stare at him without answering, knowing you’ve kept yourself busy in one form or another so much since that day that breathing hasn’t been an option.

“How long has it been out of control?” Steve questions, gripping the pole of the horse beside you.

“I’ve felt it,” you begin quietly, “coming for a couple months. Knowing it’s been two years since that day.”

“Was it like this a year ago?”

You give a shake of your head, not wanting to tell him that a year ago you were still crying yourself to sleep every night. Grief had a much stronger hold on you then, you had only tried to hide it with anger.

“Well, I’m sure Tony can figure something out,” he comments reassuringly. “Until then – let’s try breathing.”

You give him a small smile and turn to watch the world spin by ever so slowly, remembering the last time you were here, watching the scene play out before you as if from a movie. You toss your head back laughing as Bucky leans his face into your shoulder, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. Your arm is stretching away from the two of you with your cell phone clutched awkwardly in your hand as you try to get both of you in frame for a photo. The black horse you’re sitting on slowly rises then falls, bringing you back face to face with the man, allowing you to snap the photo. Barnes tears a piece of cotton candy from the bag in his hand as you inspect the photo and he offers it to you. Without looking away from the device you open your mouth and he slides the sugary concoction past your lips just like he’s done hundreds of times before. You show him the photo with a warm smile which he reciprocates. Being with him was easy and to anyone watching, they would have assumed the two of you were more than friends, because just friends don’t look at each other that way.

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to the present and you realize the carousel has stopped spinning. You look over to find what’s becoming a familiar look of concern on Steve’s face, “You good?”

“Yea,” you respond, moving to slide off the white horse. The man beside you keeps a steady hand on you until you manage to get both feet on the wooden floor. You glance up at him, seeing the flash in his eye like before he kissed you last time. Your heart stops for a moment in anticipation, but he takes a step back and you sigh with slight disappointment. “Will this fieldtrip of yours involve food?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets with a smirk, “It can.”

***

You open the door to Steve’s apartment for him, because you have one plastic grocery bag full of items on your wrist, where as he has two bags dangling from one arm, a six pack of beer gripped in one hand, and a large pizza box held steady in the other. He’s laughing as he enters the apartment and you’re defending your excessive grocery run.

“You’ve never experienced a movie night then,” you say defiantly. “Popcorn is merely an appetizer. You need some form of chocolate, gummy worms, both sweet and sour, cotton candy –”

“Gummy worms?” Steve interrupts your list as he places the beer in the fridge. “Like gummy bears?”

“Seriously?” You stare at him blankly for a moment, before you move to find the box of sour worms. Tearing into it like a small child, you pull out a bright pink and blue gummy candy shaped like its namesake and shove it toward his mouth. “Try it.” He opens his mouth cautiously, allowing you to slip the candy inside, your finger and thumb brushing against his bottom lip as you pull your hand back.

You’re unsure if he did that on purpose, but you can see a playful glint in his eye as he chews the candy. “Not bad huh?”

“Not bad,” he comments, removing some other contents from one of the bags. “I still prefer popcorn.”

Halfway through whatever action thriller is playing on the TV, you lean forward from the sofa to the assortment of snacks spread out on the coffee table. You grab the last handful of gummy worms and lean back against the cushions, your legs are crossed underneath you and one of the plain throw pillows, which obviously came standard with the sofa, is lying in your lap. Steve stretches towards you on the sofa, closing the distance, “Can I?” He’s looking at the candy in your palm and you close your hand quickly, tucking it against your chest.

“Oh no, you have popcorn – remember?”

“Is that how it is?”

“Yep.”

His brows knit together as he frowns – almost pouting – watching you pull an orange and green worm from your palm. You bite the worm in half for dramatic effect and offer him the green piece. He takes it from you, this time with his teeth, and you smirk proudly. “Told you my movie nights are better. I’m pretty awesome, didn’t he tell you that?”

The blue-eyed man in front of you leans back as he chews the candy slowly, a look of slight confusion crossing his features. “No, I figured that out on my own.” You watch him, the playful glint from earlier is replaced with a look of sad remorse. “The moment he told me you were who he’d been spending time with. You brought back a part of him I’d almost forgotten about, that kid who would spend every last dollar we had trying to win a stuffed bear for a girl at the fair.” He glances over at you achingly, and suddenly all his apologies make sense. It’s never really been an apology to you, but to the man he feels like he’s betraying. “You were the best thing to happen to him.”

You swallow the lump that forms in your throat as Steve stands up abruptly and walks into the kitchen. Your heart aches for something you never had the chance to have with Bucky and you quickly stand to follow behind the blue-eyed man, finding him leaning over his sink, his head hanging between his shoulders. He glances in your direction as you lean against the counter, “I’m –”

“If you say sorry Rogers, I swear, I’ll fling another stool at your head,” you place one hand on your hip. “Don’t make do that, because you have really nice stools.” He smiles tiredly as he drops his head again. “You said,” you begin quietly, gaining his attention, “he told you to watch out for me. Why do you think that is?” He holds your gaze as you move closer, gently placing your hand on top of his. “Maybe he didn’t want either of us to be alone. I feel closest to him when I’m with you, maybe because you’re the only other person who knew him better than I did.” Steve glances down as you continue. “I feel something around you that I haven’t felt since him. I don’t know what this is,” the words are hesitant as you squeeze slightly on his hand which is gripping the edge of countertop. “We can ignore it if you want to – pretend it doesn’t exist – but I think we’ve both lost when it comes to playing that game before.” Steve flicks his eyes over to you. “I’ve accepted the fact that he’s not coming back Steve – when will you?” The words hang in the air heavily as you pull your hand away before turning and walking out of the kitchen.

Part 4

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #avengers fanfiction #marvel #mcu #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #winter soldier #steve x reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfic

[inviouswriting]

Alternative to that primal AU drabble

I can’t just leave it on a sad note.

The fight had been tiresome, the Extreme mission had given the WOL absolute hell with how she would cast her flames. 

However there was a flit in her power use, and something held back a devastating Despair. The new WOL Divinity, sensed that Mormo wasn’t alone in the body. A glimmer of hope, Divinity presses forward and closes her eyes as she uses her holy abilities.

The Libra spirit, had to try something. So she did.

“Kiya? Are you still there? If you are, use your ability transpose.” It took a few moments of fire for her to see it and a soft flit between fire to ice. Divinity smiles to herself.

“He misses you. If there is a way to come out of this, please. It doesn’t have to end with death.” She tries.

There is a falter in Mormo’s attacks. They diminish, as well as the form.

“But I summoned a Primal. Into myself... I’m no different than his father... He probably hates me for this...”  Kiya’s voice, her voice is soft and weakened. Almost fizzled out from the double echo of Mormo’s.

“Silence you! And you! She has made a cardinal sin in the eyes of the realm!” Mormo comments and throws another barrage of fire and ice. Divinity uses a barrier to keep the attacks down.

“Kiya, it can be like your friend Ysayle.  Aymeric does not hate you. He thinks you are gone, but far from hates you.” Divinity tries harder. She is reminded of Kivera when she went mad with grief. Divinity walks forward, and Kiya is on guard.

“He locked me in here for so long though... I sense him from time to time... outside the walls.” Kiya buries her face into her hands, and feels a sharp pain in her head.

Divinity casts a heal onto her, and Kiya looks over.

“Why are you healing me? You should kill me...”

“I can’t do that. Not with this silver lining granted to us.” Kiya feels another sharp pain in her head and doubles over onto her knees.

Divinity runs up to her, and sees a tiny urn that fell from inside Kiya’s coat. 

Divinity’s graceful smile, she thinks for a moment what her leader would do, then thinks of herself in what she wanted to do for Kivera when she was in so much pain. Dropping her healer staff, Divinity closes the distance and wraps her arms around Kiya’s huddled form.

The kindness reminded her of what she missed and needed. She started to cry, and feel the hold from Mormo slipping away. Holding Kiya close, Divinity murmurs something, and expels Mormo out, with quick work. Divinity seals the entity away. 

With Mormo out, Divinity feels the overwhelming power dissipate. With it, Kiya collapses to her knees fully, drained of her energy. But the most she is doing, Kiya is crying full into Divinity’s chest, something she hadn’t felt in years. 

“Ah... shh. It’s over now.” Divinity pets her head, in the same manner Kivera did for her when she was on the pyre.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! Forgive me! Aymeric!! I... Aymeric!! You’re all I have!” Divinity looks over to one of the Temple Knights that accompanied her.

“I think the threat has been neutralized. No blood was spilled today, I think she can go home.” A furious nod, and Divinity just pets Kiya’s head. She notes that with the powers gone it had left her bare. Divinity removes the white cloak from around herself and covers Kiya with it and helps steady her on her feet.

“Hey, hey. We should get you home now?” Divinity earns a nod from Kiya.

They slowly walk till Divinity has Kiya cling to her back. At the entrance to Dusk Vigil, Aymeric sees the two, he had been pacing from the time Divinity went in, he felt the power shift, then fizzle out. He was expecting a dead body to be carried out. Not one clinging to Divinity’s back.

Aymeric looks over Divinity, and then to Kiya. His love is refusing to look him in the eye, burying her face into the white of Divinity’s hair.

“Come now Kiya, do you not have something to say to him? You were crying it into my chest earlier.” Aymeric is hopeful with the address of his love’s name. When he sees Kiya lift her head up, a sense of relief hits him. Her mannerisms the same as he always knew. Whenever she was guilty, she always looked to the side.

“A-Aymeric... I’m sorry! I should have come to you... I’m sorry.” Aymeric is already at her side once he was certain it is his lover and not a demon in her body.

He is pulling her from Divinity’s back and into his arms, collapsing onto his knees with her held tight.

“Godsdamn you! Halone! By the Fury! Kiya! I thought... you were going to die.. and I had ordered it!” Aymeric holds her so tight to him Kiya realizes she had made such a horrible mistake.

“Will you forgive me.... I can understand... if you hate me for this...” Aymeric pulls her back in his arms and gives her a glare. Aymeric has her head in her hands as he presses his forehead to hers.

“My love! MY Love! Hate you? Halone be praised.. you are returned to me. I will never forgive you for what you did. However... will take all of the rest of our lives together to make it up to me. Understand? No adventures for three years. Staying with me.” Kiya can’t look away from him, and feels hot tears spill from her eyes, as well as see them out of his.

“Y-yes Aymeric.”

“Yes, Lord Commander.” He corrects her for right now.

“Yes, Lord Commander!” His face softens after she agrees, and winds his arms around her and gives her a deep kiss. One that has her head spinning, and Divinity looking away. 

Aymeric breaks the kiss and lifts his wife up into his arms. A newer knight approaches them.

“S-ser Aymeric, what do we do about her? aren’t you worried she is Enthralled? or playing a trick?”

“She is not playing a trick. Mormo was expelled, I felt and saw it myself.” Divinity counters before Kiya’s name can be dragged. He is also met with a stare from Aymeric. He clearly does not want to discuss what happened.

“Let us count our blessings. My warrior of light has returned. I do not wish to hear anyone speak ill of her in my presence. I might lose mine temper.” He warns, turning on his heels he carries Kiya out of the frozen place. Leaving Divinity to collect herself.

The days after, Kiya was on strict bedrest for observation as well as resting from the last few years did a number on her body with little eating it did. 

Kiya had a nightly visitor in Aymeric, sleeping next to her, specially the first night he brought her back not leaving her side once. Kiya got more of an earful from him when she was a little bit better. Even Estinien showed up leaving behind flowers in the vase.

Kiya lays on her back, thinking of what went awry with her spell. She feels a flick on her forehead drawing her out of her thoughts and she sees Aymeric’s firm eyes staring at her.

“I know that look. Do not dwell on what happened.” He was in the middle of washing her up, and saw how her eyes drifted off into almost another world, when she thinks of her past, or when she would do something stupid.

“Yes love.” Aymeric feels nothing but relief in his heart, having her back. He doesn’t know what he would have done if her body was brought. Besides mourn and think of all the dreams shattered.

Aymeric lays in next to her after she is dressed in fresh robes. He noted she has color in her face again.

“You look much better. You might be able to come home with me in a few more days.”

“Really?” She earns a nod from him.

“I can’t wait.. I am getting tired of this ceiling to stare at.”

“Oh? Then why not stare at me instead.” Aymeric gets her attention again, a blush on her face.

“Because you know I can’t stare at you for too long.” 

Aymeric shakes his head, and tugs her into his arms.

“I really thought I was going to lose you. All of you. When I first got word you had summoned a Primal. I thought they were joking until I saw it. You looked nothing like yourself. I did not feel you in there.. I rather had, have you die before I allowed a monster to take over you.” He voices his concerns and his feelings, Kiya’s eyes spring tears at the memory.

“To be honest... I felt consumed, I vaguely understand what Estinien went through with Nidhogg… Different circumstances. And Nidhogg was no primal. All I wanted to do... was be more helpful in the fights to come.” Aymeric pulls her back to look at her again.

“And I told you to leave the fighting to us for the time being while you rested. Had I known what happened.. I would have never left your side. You should have written me. Talked to me. Like you always did. What made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me? Your husband, your soulbound mate.” 

“I did not want to burden you with more...” Kiya is pulled into his arms tight again.

“Godsdamn you... You are never a burden. You were never one when you came to me after Haurchefant, then when you came to me after Azys Lla, and every person you had lost. You would never burden me with your pain. Tis why we made our vows eternal. I am to be your shoulder, your hand, your solace. Just as you are mine.” Aymeric feels her shuddering in crying again. She needed him more than ever.

“I’m sorry....”

“Kiya, all will be fine. But you, you need real rest.” Aymeric helps rest her down on her back. He fits in next to her, and tugs her as close as she gets into his arms till she relaxes.

They entwine their hands together, Aymeric pressing kisses to her fingers till each one has been kissed. He even presses his face to her hair to breathe in her scent. Something he had missed in his own bed terribly.

“Rest now.. we have much to discuss later.” He lulls Kiya into slumber and thanks the stars now with how she was spared a needless death.

#aymeric #ser aymeric #ffxiv aymeric #aymeric de borel #kiya shinikami #aymeric x kiya #angsty! #I made a happier ending

[ratwrites]

Burning House.

Requests.

Masterlist.

Summary: Listening to Burning House by Cam

Warnings: Angst

Pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi X Reader

Word Count: Unsure as I wrote this on my old phone

A/N: Finally got around to editing this! I'm not super happy with how this turned out, but oh well. Sorry that Ben is out of character ;-;

[[MORE]]

You sat in the meditation quarters your legs folded up onto one of the small chairs. You'd been taken out of action as your visions seemed to worsen by the day. Each one had come to pass and the grief weighed heavy on your mind. You could do nothing to stop these dreams from coming to you and you could do nothing to prevent the disasters that happened in them.

Your body tensed as the memories of your recent dream flashed through your mind. The same vision had been haunting you for weeks and you couldn't shake it. You shook your head gently trying to clear your mind, but to no avail. A face flashed beneath your closed eyelids. It was the same friendly face everytime.

"(F/N)?" Your eyes shot open with a start only to find the face of your dreams leaning against the doorframe. Your senses were normally sharp, but you'd been distracted.

"Hey," you muttered, looking down at your lap. You closed your eyes again resuming your meditation position. You had to clear your mind.

"Couldn't sleep again?" He asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from you. You opened your eyes meeting his. He had crossed his legs into the chair looking calmly at you. Your mind became clouded as you stared at your fellow Jedi, your friend... You shook your head in confirmation.

"The visions aren't settling," you replied, stretching your back for a moment.

"Meditation isn't helping?" He questioned. You shook your head with a sigh.

"Each time I close my eyes the same vision returns.. No matter how hard I try I can't rid myself of it," you groaned, setting your feet on the floor. You rested your arms across your knees letting your head hang.

"Have you told Master Yoda about this vision?" You shook your head again. Your Master had been the one to take you from the field. You'd been instructed to take each vision to the elder Jedi in hopes of dealing with them. You weren't the only one to have such harsh dreams in the force, but you were the first to have them so bad.

"I- I can't... This one is.. Different," you muttered, keeping your head down. You heard a soft shift in his position.

"How is it different?" He proded. You looked up at your friend making out his features in the dark room.

"I've been sleep walking.." You answered. Normally you tossed and turned, but this dream... It wasn't like the others.

"I've been wandering all night.. I went down in my quarters and woke up in the Younglings training room," you explained. Obi Wan frowned. You could sense his concern.

"It's like I've been trying to find what's lost and broke and make it right.." You added, looking down again. Obi Wan finally stood from his chair and moved to you. He crouched down in front of you carefully taking your hand.

"You should speak to Master Yoda in the morning," he suggested.

"Obi-"

"I insist. You need your rest." He stood carefully bringing you to your feet. You sighed keeping your hand in his for a moment longer. You savored the feeling of his calloused skin against yours. You let go with a snap settling the emotions that rose within you. Now wasn't the time. Without a word you followed the Jedi from the room and back to your chambers.

"Sleep, I will return in the morning," he encouraged. You yawned your quarters door opening.

"Goodnight Master Kenobi," you said, bowing your head in farewell.

"Goodnight Master (L/N)."

.

Obi Wan didn't return to your room in the morning. According to Anakin he'd been sent out on a sudden supply run to a small planet. You'd set off to the council room in hopes of talking to the elder Jedi. You stood outside the council door for a moment.

"Enter you may," Yoda's voice called, through the door. With a deep breath you hesitantly pushed the door open. Yoda sat in the company of Master Windu, your Master, and another member of the Jedi Council.

"What brings you to the council young one?" Mace asked, tilting his head briefly.

"Another dream you've had?" Yoda spoke, as you opened your mouth to answer. You closed it nodding your head. Silence fell over the room.

"I was hoping I could speak with you, alone, Master Yoda," you said, shyly. Even though you knew these Jedi, coming in front of a group of them was still nervewracking to you.

"Talk in private, of course," he replied, calmly. With a curt nod Mace and the other Jedi stood leaving the room. With a flick of his wrist the doors closed behind them and the blindes in the room closed slightly allowing little light into the large room. You took a seat next to the elder.

"Meditate you must, bring back this vision," he encouraged. You hesitated.

"Hesitant you are, fear not young one," he soothed. You took a shaky breath before closing your eyes letting your head fall slightly.

"About this vision you must tell." The images began to flash through your mind.

"I see a burning house.." You began, your muscles tensing.

"He was stuck inside I couldn't get him out... I laid beside him and pulled him close.. And we went up in smoke," you explained, your eyes shooting open. You hadn't realized how labored your breathing had become until you calmed yourself. Yoda frowned.

"Troubled you are. Who is this man you see?" He asked, tilting his head. You stayed silent. You were afraid to speak the whole truth. You were afraid it would reveal things that were against the Jedi code.

"A fellow Master," you answered, choosing not to reveal his identity. Yoda nodded with a noise. His hand scratched his chin.

"And this vision, die you both do?" He continued. You shrugged. The vision never revealed your fate, but you had a hunch that it wasn't a happy ending.

"More you must tell."

"I've been sleep walking, too close to the fire. Everywhere I seem to go there is fire," you continued, looking away from the Master.

"Sleep walking?" Yoda repeated. You nodded keeping your eyes away from him.

"Hm," Yoda pondered, scratching his chin again. A silence fell over the room as the elder thought.

"Tell this Jedi, you should. Sensing more to your vision, I am," he spoke, finally. Your heart dropped in your chest. You couldn't tell him.

"Releave this vision, it will. Releave your clouded mind, it will," he added. You slowly nodded standing to your feet.

"Thank you Master Yoda for your guidance." You left quickly your mind still clouded. You walked through the temple halls with your head down.

"Master (L/N)!" Anakin called, from behind you. You halted your steps turning to face Obi Wan's old Padawan who'd recently become a General and his own Padawan at his heels.

"Yes young Skywalker?" You folded your hands neatly in front of your body as he skidded to a halt.

"Obi Wan has returned from his mission. I thought you'd like to know," he said, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Thank you Crash" you bowed. Your first mission with Anakin he had gotten you and your team stranded on a Sepretist planet which earned him your nickname, Crash.

"You're welcome Master Slick." Without another word they hurried off. You'd earned your nickname from the one time you'd accidentally dropped your lightsaber during a very important mission. It had almost cost you your life, but in the event of your survival it had become an inside joke between you and the Skywalker. You continued your walk making your way to your quarters. You didn't want to speak to Ben. You weren't in the right mindset to speak to Ben.

Your personal droid greeted you. "Hello Miss (L/N)! Would you like me to fetch you anything?" It questioned.

"Not now C2. Please do not let anyone disturb me I need to meditate," you ordered.

"Yes my lady." The droid wandered off as you headed to your bedroom the door closing behind you. You placed yourself on your bed crossing your legs. You closed your eyes focusing on the peace in your room. The silence lasted for a moment before you were swiftly consumed by your vision and thoughts.

.

"Master (L/N)? (F/N)? (F/N) can you hear me?" You jolted with a cry of terror your eyes shooting open and drawing you back to reality. Ben was over you concern wafting off of him. You sat upright swiftly pulling yourself up onto your feet and away from Obi Wan. Fear consumed you as you looked around. The daylight from your windows had turned to night. How long had you been out? How long had he been trying to wake you? How did you end up on the floor. Your mind was racing.

"(F/N) you need to relax," he urged, raising his hands up in surrender. Your heart was pounding against your ribs and your breathing was ragged. You backed away from him until your back hit a wall. He didn't advance.

"You need to calm your mind," he said, visibly flinching. Even you could sense the distrot in the force that you were causing. You tried to calm yourself attempting to force your breathing to slow, but it refused. Your mind was overrun blinding any rationality you had. You rushed forward practically slamming your body against Bens'. You snaked your arms around him desperately burying your face into the tunic covering his chest. Your body shook against him. For a moment he stood stunned his arms out awkwardly at his sides. Your trembling turned into soft sobs as your fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt. Eventually he reached out trapping you securely against his chest. The last time you'd hugged Ben was when you were selected to become Mace Windu's Padawan. That had been a long time ago. One of his hands rested against the back of your head gently stroking your hair.

"Focus.." he began, pausing for a moment.

"Focus on me. Put your mind to ease," he soothed, holding you a little tighter. You sobs quieted as you focused on his heartbeat, his breathing, and his voice.

"There you go, easy now," he murmured, the touch on your hair calming you down as well. His gentle fingers caused your scalp to tingle pleasantly. Your mind began to settle which allowed your muscles to relax as well. Slowly your rational thinking returned to you. This was so wrong for you to be doing, yet it seemed so perfect. After a few more moments you begrudgingly pulled away taking a few steps back from him.

"Are you alright?" He asked, the concern still coming off of him in waves.

"I'm fine... What exactly happened?" You replied, countering his question with one of your own. He paused.

"You seemed to be in a deep meditative state, almost as if you were sleeping or in a trance," he explained, partly.

"And how did I end up on the floor?" He shrugged casting a quick glance toward the droid who passed the room door.

"It found you like this. According to the droid you were crying out for help as if you were in pain. It said you-" Obi Wan fell silent.

"Said I what?" You pushed, your anxiety building. You pushed it down trying to keep your head clear.

"You were calling out to someone." Your gut twisted. You had a bad feeling you knew exactly who you called for and he responded to that call.

"Obi... It's- I-" He gently reached out taking your hands in his own. He led you back to your bed sitting you down.

"This vision is haunting you (F/N). Please, if I can aid you then let me!" His compassion was whole along with his kindness. When focused you could sense something else but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"It's not that easy Obi..." You started.

"Yoda said that it was about me," he stated. How had Yoda found out? You ignored that thought remembering that the old Jedi knew things about you that even you didn't know.

"Obi please.."

"He said that talking would help ease this vision-"

"It isn't that simple Ben!" You yelped, cutting him off. Silence took over the room as your eyes landed hotly on his. Your anger softened the longer you looked at him. His face was patient and kind. He was willing to wait for you. You let out a heavy sigh. He was persistent. He'd keep trying, never losing his cool or patience with you. You couldn't keep hiding this from him. If ruining your friendship and abandoning your code is what you had to do to save him then that is what you intended to do. The droid stopped in the doorway.

"Leave us please and make sure no one disturbs us," you ordered. The droid nodded closing the bedroom doors. You looked to Ben who's attention was focused on you. You took another deep breath your hands still trembling.

"I had a dream about a burning house.." You started, looking away from him.

"You were stuck inside. I couldn't get you out.. So I laid beside you and I held you tight... And the two of us went up in smoke." You drew your gaze back to him catching the sympathy he held for you. Thinking about the vision brought back the thoughts that had been clouding your mind.

"I-" You froze. If you didn't tell someone about these troubling thoughts then they'd continue to haunt you.

"I've been sleepwalking too close to the fire, but it's the only place that I can hold you tight." His eyes widened at your words causing you to look down shamefully.

"Love isn't all it seems... I did you wrong," You sighed, standing from the bed. You shouldn't have let these emotions fester. You should've cut them off at the root, but you didn't. It was against the Jedi Code to have attachments, but you were attached to your fellow Master. His voice and smile constantly clouded your mind along with your vision making it almost impossible to focus on a daily basis.

"I'm sorry Master Kenobi... I know it is wrong. I just- these dreams-" You silenced yourself as a hand gently grabbed your own. You followed the pressure allowing it's owner to turn you around. You stared down at your feet Obi's boots mere inches away from yours. Your breath hitched as the hand slid down enveloping yours in its warmth.

"It's alright (F/N)," he murmured. His other hand rose taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. With little effort he raised your head carefully forcing you to face him. The emotion radiating off of him was surprising. You honed in on him sensing each emotion that passed through him. Your own eyes widened as you captured the love that seeped out of him. Had he also been struggling to keep his mind clear of such things? You locked your gaze with his allowing yourself to drown in their vibrant color. The vision disappeared from your mind as a new image replaced it. Obi Wan chuckled his hand gliding from your chin to your cheek.

"Your thoughts are very loud dear one." He'd never called you that before. The pet name made your stomach flutter and your heart race. You stiffened slightly as the Jedi's head lowered a little toward you. His eyelids were low silently asking for permission to finish what he had started. You closed your eyes giving him the confirmation he needed. Butterflies exploded throughout your body as his lips pressed against yours molding perfectly to you. Your free hand came up resting over the one splayed across your cheek. You didn't want this moment to end. Slowly he pulled back his forehead resting against yours. You exhaled with a sigh keeping your eyes closed.

You were almost feverish from the sensation of his kiss. You dared to open your eyes finding that his were still closed. "I'll stay here with you until this dream is gone." He opened his eyes pulling his head away from yours. He lead you back to your bed sitting you on it. You slid into it surprised as he followed. He propped himself up against the headboard giving you a signal to come to him. You moved to his side settling against him. He tucked you under his arm letting your head rest near his collarbone.

"Rest dear one." He pressed a kiss into your hair making your scalp tingle. This was wrong, but you wouldn't trade this moment for anything.

.

Weeks had gone by since your first moment with Master Kenobi. The pair of you had continued to meet privately spending nights with one another and exchanging secret kisses after missions or meetings. Your union had to stay secret, though Anakin had discovered it rather fast which didn't surprise you. You knew that your secret would be safe with him considering his relationship with the Senator.

Many missions had passed and you'd begun to think that your so called vision had just been a nightmare after all, until now.

You swung your lightsaber desperately killing each droid that approached you. Your platoon was dying quickly and your reenforcements were occupied. You'd sustained a shot burn on your arm, but you didn't let that stop you. "Fall back to the temple!" You shouted, overing the raging battle.

"Fall back!" You watched your clones covered each other making their way out of the field and into safety. You followed keeping your back to your men as you fended off any shots that followed. Finally you withdrew your lightsaber and ran catching up to your men. You could make out fighting in front of you. You halted your men following.

"What are your orders sir?" Captain Wolf questioned, coming to your side.

"We'll split up into two teams and go around the fighting. We do not have the men or resources to engage them right now so stay out of sight. I want you to gather General Skywalker and his men and meet us back at the temple," you ordered You intended to send some of your men to Anakin and follow the rest back to the temple where Obi Wan had last been. You lifted your arm turning on your communicator.

"Anakin come in!" You called.

"I'm a bit busy!" He responded quickly.

"I'm sending Wolf and some of my men to you. I'm headed back to the temple. Regroup there when you are able," you ordered.

"Copy that!"

"Kenobi!" You called. There was no reply.

"Master Kenobi come in!" Still no reply. Panic washed over you.

"Wolf, take your men and go! We'll meet you at the temple!" Wolf nodded and turned gathering half of the platoon and taking off.

"Follow me!" You began to run in the opposite direction as Wolf taking the rest of the men with you. As you moved you continued to try and reach your lover.

"Obi Wan can you hear me!" Static retuened your call. Fear took hold of your senses. Memories of the dream began to return to you making your fear grow. You and your men broke out into a clearing where the temple stood. Captain Cody met you halfway to the temple.

"Where is General Kenobi?" You asked, quickly. Cody pointed to a large abandoned house near the temple.

"We had to retreat. There were too many of them. Our losses were high," he explained.

"As were ours," you sighed, your fear settling. He was okay. You headed toward the house entering it to find him crouched next to a hologram. At your entry he stood. Without thinking you threw yourself at him hugging him. He returned it for a moment before letting go.

"Why didn't you respond to my communication?" You questioned. He lifted his arm tapping the broken com unit.

"Blasted droid damaged it," he replied, coolly. You let out a sigh.

"Anakin should be on his way here. Wolf and I had to call everyone back. They had a lot more in numbers than he'd anticipated," you sighed, crouching down by the hologram. It was a view of the landscape littered with red dots to mark the Separatist droids and green dots to mark the Clones. Anakin's group was slowly making their way back.

"We need to rethink our approach. The council currently doesn't have the troops to send us anymore reenforcements so we have to make due with what we have," Obi Wan explained. Anakin was meant to be your reenforcements... You nodded in agreement. You watched the field as Anakin's forces neared the temple. You stood suddenly as yelling came from outside. Your senses flipped upsidedown.

"Ben!" A blast knocked you off of your feet. Your vision turned white as your back hit what you assumed was the ground. A loud ringing took over your ears making your head spin. You tuned into the pain radiating through your body. You tried to move, but couldn't. After what you assumed was a few moments your vision returned. You seeled your eyes shut as the ringing faded as well only to be replaced with a roar. Heat overtook your senses causing your heart to drop. You forced your eyes opened blinking rapidly as bright hot fire surrounded you. You coughed dragging yourself up and onto your feet. You couldn't see anything but fire.

"Obi Wan!" You shouted, your voice ragged and pained. You coughed again smoke invading your lungs. You stumbled through the firey building falling to your knees. Breathing was painful and short.

"Ben!" You strained, trying to make out anything through the roaring flames. You spotted a limp shape on the floor. Large pieces of the ceiling surrounding it. You crawled forward your coughing becoming more violent by the second.

"Ben-!" Obi Wan laid on the floor his legs trapped under a large piece of ceiling. His face and clothes were covered his ash and you could make out cuts and tears in his clothes revealing crimson blood. With what strength you had you lifted the piece off of him before your body gave out. You fell forward landing roughly on your stomach. You were light headed from the lack of oxygen. This was it. This was your dream. You laid for a moment before gathering your strength. You couldn't let him die. You raised yourself onto your hands and knees and crawled until you were at his side. You had to try.

You dropped down your upper body falling over Obi Wan's. You used yourself as a shield against the flames protecting his head and whatever else you could. You closed your eyes burying yourself into the force and seperating yourself from reality. Everything was quiet. "I will save you.." You let yourself drift off.

.

Obi Wan woke with a groan his body aching from his head down to his toes. Slowly his eyes fluttered open temporarily unaware of his surroundings. He tried to sit up, but a pair of familiar hands pushed him back down. "Whoa, take it easy Master," Anakin urgered, sitting back down next to the cot. Obi Wan tilted his head looking to his former Padawan.

"What happened?" He mumbled, his memory foggy. Anakin frowned, resting his arms across his knees.

"The temple was bombed. We had no idea the attack was coming until it was right on top of us," Anakin answered. His heartrate spiked suddenly as he focused on the memory. You'd yelled out to him just before everything had been set ablaze.

"(F/N)," Obi Wan forced himself up.

"Take it easy Master!" Anakin protested, standing to his feet.

"Where is she? Anakin where is she?" He demanded, fear in his eyes. Obi Wan watched a sad scowl form across Anakin's face. He could sense the tension behind his unsaid answer.

"Oh Gods..." Obi Wan choked, looking away from him.

"She- she's alive," Anakin reassured.

"Just- we're not sure for how much longer.." He added, sadly. Obi Wan looked at him again.

"The whole place was on fire.. It took hours to get it down enough to where we could send in a team to get you out," he explained, quietly.

"We- we found you two together... Master (L/N) was covering you." Anakin was the one to look away. Dread hung over Obi Wan as her dream came to him rapidly.

"She sustained major burns along her body along with a few other injuries." Obi Wan could sense the sadness from his former Padawan. He understood that him and her were good friends and that Anakin cared about her almost as much as he cared for Ahsoka or Padmae.

"I need to see her," he stated, kicking his feet off of the bed. He regretted his choice as pain shot up his legs and around his spine.

"You aren't fit to be up and about Master. You were in pretty bad shape when we found you. If it wasn't for her you'd be dead," Anakin stated, resting a hand on Ben's shoulder.

"Anakin, I have to see her," Obi Wan insisted, connecting his gaze with Anakin's. The Jedi sighed sensing the distress from his former Master. He helped Obi Wan to his feet wrapping the older Jedi's arm over his shoulder. Slowly they began to walk.

.

They entered a different room of the infirmary station. The room was lined with Bacta Tank's each one holding a severly wounded Clone. Ben's eyes landed on one holding his lover. "(F/N)," he whimpered. Anakin helped him to the tank. Obi Wan pulled from Anakin's hold pressing his hands against the cool glass of the tank. His eyes scanned over her body taking in the burns littered across her skin. He could sense her holding onto life by a thread.

"Oh dear one.." He whined, pressing his forehead agaisnt the glass.

"You didn't have to do this... You didn't have to sacrifice yourself." Tears dared to spring out onto the Jedi's cheeks, but he pushed them back. His hands clenched into fists.

"Don't leave me.. Please." The tears he held forced their way out sliding down his cheeks and into his beard. His shoulders shook as he silently cried his emotions overwhelming him. Anakin's friendly hand touched his shoulder, but Obi Wan didn't budge. The one person he'd allowed himself to love was lost to him. Her life was fading with every passing moment.

"I can't lose her Anakin..." He sobbed. Anakin's hold on his shoulder tightened with a supportive squeeze.

"Her choice whether she lives or dies it is," Yoda's voice spoke. Obi Wan reached up wiping his eyes free of tears. Slowly he turned to face the elder staying by Anakin's side.

"Brave she was. Saved you she did," he continued, his gaze traveling to her body in the tank.

"Is there anything we can do to help her?" Obi Wan questioned, keeping his voice as steady as he could. A small frown crossed the elder's face.

"Help her we cannot. Let your emotions cloud your judgment you should not," Yoda answered. Anakin dropped his hand from his former Master's shoulder.

"Master Anakin, Master Yoda, your presence is needed on the deck," a clone interrupted, coming to stand behind the old Jedi. The clone left with Yoda following slowly behind.

"Have faith Obi Wan. She'll pull through," Anakin reassured, before following after them. Obi Wan turned back to the tank his hands resting on it again. Only time would tell your fate.

.

Months had passed since the bombing. Obi Wan had been returned to battle, but he frequently visited the Medical station in hopes of finding you awake. His last visit had been over a week ago due to the war and his hopes of seeing you smile again had faded. He landed his starfighter into the landing deck. "R4 stay with the fighter. I shouldn't be too long," he ordered. The droid wirred in response as its pilot climbed out. Obi Wan began his trek his brown cloak flowing behind him as he moved.

"Welcome General Kenobi!" A medical clone greeted, approaching him.

"How is she?" He asked, nodding his head in welcome to the clone.

"Her condition hasn't really changed sir; though her burns have healed up nicely along with her other injuries," he explained, leading the Jedi to her tank. Obi Wan looked over her. He rested his hand on the glass.

"Do you think she'll come to?" Obi Wan questioned, sadly. The medic sighed deeply.

"We aren't sure General. With how long she's been out chances of her waking up are rather slim. General Fisto has given her a few more days until we take her out of the tank." Obi Wan could sense the sadness that even the Clone carried. She'd always been a good friend to the clones earning her respect more than once. He stepped back from the tank taking in her peaceful expressione once more. His heart weighed heavy in his chest the grief poking at his mind.

"Contact me if there is any change in her condition and please contact me if Master Fisto goes through with removing her," he ordered, giving the clone a sad glance. The clone bowed his head.

"Yes sir." Without another word the clone disappeared from the room leaving Obi Wan by her tank. He rested his head against the glass closing his eyes. He honed in on the force his mind clearing. He could sense her. Her heartbeat was steady and the mask covering her mouth and nose kept her breathing smooth. He focused.

"I need you (F/N)... You've become apart of my life and-" he paused, swallowing hard.

"I don't know what I would do without you..." He squeezed his eyes tighter trying to sense any change in her state. With a heavy sigh he pushed off of the tank looking her over one last time.

"I love you dear one.." He turned his back to the tank making his way out of the room. His feet dragged as he walked his head hanging lower than he should've aloud it. He made his way out to the landing doc coming to stand by his ship. He leaned against the wing taking a moment to collect himself. He shook his head silently cursing himself. He'd let himself get too attached and now he was suffering for it. He pinched the bridge of his nose behind jumping up and into the cockpit of his fighter. He sat for a moment leaning his head back against the seat.

"Time to go R4," he muttered, seeling his cockpit. The engines of his fighter roared to life. His droid squeaked at him its words appearing on the screen before Obi Wan.

"They're calling to you." He looked around spotting a few of the clones rushing toward him. R4 popped the cockpit.

"What is it?" He questioned, sitting up.

"They're taking her out," he said, catching his breath.

"What? I thought Master Fisto was giving her a few more days," Obi Wan frowned, getting out of his fighter.

"She's awake.." Obi Wan took off back toward the room.

.

"I love you dear one..."

Your eyes shot open your senses overloading with fear. The bacta burned your eyes eliciting a cry of shock and pain from your lips. Your hands shot to the glass pressing hard against it. Clones raced in swiftly emptying the tank. You were removed from the tank and set on a cot by the tank. The mask was removed from your face and a towel was passed to you. You shivered as the cool air of the station connected against your wet skin. You slid the towel around your shoulders looking around. The clones were taking vitals and asking you questions that you couldn't quite make out.

Master Fisto appeared in the room steadily walking toward you. The clones stepped aside allowing the Jedi to stand in front of you. "It is good to see you Master (L/N)," he spoke, clearly. You rubbed your ear with the towel giving him a curt nod.

"What-" you coughed, your throat dry and hoarse. Kit nodded to one of the medics who quickly gathered you a glass of water. You gulped down the clear liquid sighing as it soothed your aching throat. Once finished you handed the glass back to the clone.

"What happened?" You asked, your voice still rough and low.

"What is the last thing you remember?" He countered. You fell silent for a moment wracking your brain for some sort of explanation.

"I- I'm not sure.. I can remember the battle and- and we were forced to regroup..." You paused, realization hitting you like a blaster shot. Before you could speak another figure appeared in the room's doorway. All eyes turned to him. You could sense the excitement and the happiness rolling off of him. You stood with the aid of Master Fisto keeping the towel wrapped around your shoulders. Obi Wan ran to you colliding into you as his arms snaked around you trapping your wet form safely against his chest. You couldn't help but snuggle into him sensing that it had been a long time since you'd been held by him.

"My dear one..." He sniffed, his head resting near the base of your neck. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder savoring the moment.

"Oh how I've missed you so," he slowly pulled back his arms still around you. You were surprised to find tears streaking down the Jedi's face and into his soft beard.

"Goodness how long have I been out? You act as if we haven't spoken in months," you giggled, reaching up with one hand to stroke away his tears while the other kept your towel secure. Obi Wan didn't respond to your joke. Concern took hold.

"H- How long have I been out exactly?" You questioned, keeping your gaze trained on Obi Wan.

"Around four months," Master Fisto interrupted. Her eyes deadpanned from Obi Wan to the other Master in the room.

"What?" She was dumbfounded.

"When they pulled you from the wreckage of the building you were covered in burns and other injuries. Your body shielded Obi Wan from sustaining anymore injuries than he did," Kit explained, taking a step closer.

"It was foolish of you," Obi Wan added, causing your gaze to snap back to him. You could see the scold in his expression, but the thanks that remained in his eyes.

"I couldn't let you die," you defended.

"And I couldn't watch you die!" He snapped, suddenly. You took a step back from him.

"I've been visiting you for months now watching as the one I love heals but never wakes, her true condition never changing. I'd given up hope that I'd ever see you again that I'd ever see your smile again..." He cut himself off. His mind was shrowded causing him to forget the presence of the other Jedi and his clones.

"I thought I was going to lose you.." His voice grew quiet. Your eyes jumped from Obi Wan to Kit who gave you a bow of his head before ushering his men out of the room.

"Ben.."

"I was so afraid of losing you (F/N) that it clouded my judgment. It distorted the way I did things. My attachment to you pained every part of my being knowing that you might never wake again.." Your heart cracked at his words causing you to look down. He was right, your actions had been foolish. You'd acted out of love and not out of the force. You could've dragged his body to safety but instead you put your life on the line just to keep him safe.

"I was- I was so scared..." You moved back to him standing toe to toe with him. You had no worse to ease your hurt being passed between the two of you. With your eyes closed you leaned up capturing the Master's lips with your own. He reacted instantly kissing you in return his arms finding their way around your lower back locking your bodies against each other. He was greedy and you didn't blame him. You pressed hard and desperately into the kiss your eyes squeezing shut. Eventually it ended. Obi Wan rested his forehead against yours his arms staying still around you. You tucked your hands between your chest and his snuggling closer to him.

"Can you- can you say it again?" You asked, quietly. Obi Wan pulled his forehead from yours cocking a confused brow.

"What you said to me.. Before I woke up," you confirmed. You'd heard him speak to you. Through the force he'd connected with you and you heard his call. Obi Wan's expression softened.

"I love you dear one." He took you again kissing you softly. You melted against him content with this moment, until a chill ran up your spine.

"I love you too Ben, but do you think we could scrounge me up a robe or something? It's quite cold in here," you giggled. Obi Wan chuckled hugging you close for a moment before letting go completely. He shrugged off his cloak wrapping it around your shoulders. The cloak was quite large on you. He couldn't help but smile as you pulled it tight around you letting it warm you.

"I'll fetch Master Fisto so they can continue treating you." Without another word he hurried out of the room. You sighed and sat back down the cot keeping the cloak pulled around you. His scense wafted off of it filling your nostrils. It was pleasant. Clones entered the room coming to you immediately. You begrudgingly shed the cloak allowing them to finish their tests and whatnot before one of them offered you a set of white infirmary robes.

You took them without hesitation quickly slipping out of the bandages that had been covering your most private areas and into the robes once the clones left you. Once changed you tossed Obi Wan's cloak around your shoulders once more and carefully made your way out of the room your legs a little shaky under you. You spotted the two Master's just down the hall. They looked deep in discussion, but it paused when you stepped fully into the hall. You headed their way coming to stand next to Obi Wan.

"I can assure you Master Kenobi your secret is safe with me," Master Fisto said, suddenly. Your eyes widened looking between the two men.

"I am indeed happy for you both. If you'll excuse me my friends I have patients to attend to." With a kind smile Master Fisto disappeared down the hall. You looked up at Ben.

"So he knows then?" You questioned. Obi Wan nodded.

"How long will they be keeping you until you can return to Corisant?" Obi Wan countered, taking your hand in his own.

"I was given a week of treatment and observation. They mainly want to be sure that I am indeed healed enough to be released," you replied, swaying slightly on your feet. The cloak moved with you which caused the Jedi to smile.

"Then I shall stay as much as I am able," Obi Wan murmured. He took you in his arms again hugging you once more. You returned it cuddling your face against his shirt. His embrace was your home and you never wanted to leave the flames burning between the two of you.

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