#if he’s taller than me my world will crash down into flames | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lucytara · 3 years

Note

Yeah I get wanting some variation in your writing and whatnot. Hmm.

Gold. "I defy you. I defy your god. The laws of the universe said my love was gone from me. I said watch me save her." Bumbleby.

Have fun!

it’s possible. that i went. a little overboard with this prompt.

"I defy you. I defy your god. The laws of the universe said my love was gone from me. I said watch me save her."

All four candles are lit in the corners of the small room, wicks burning purple and melting black wax. Her offering sits in a dish at the feet of the small statue - an old, worn piece of paper, bent and torn around its edges - and she herself kneels in the center of the floor, her hands clasped.

“I’ve never done this,” she begins, “but my name is Yang Xiao Long, and I humbly request an audience.”

Nothing happens, though she isn’t sure what she would’ve expected even if it had; the flames flicker with her unsteady heartbeat, the blood in her ears crashing as if waves in a storm. For some reason it’s embarrassing, calling on a higher entity who decides to put you through to voicemail.

She tries again, and aims for theatrical exaggeration; maybe the gods like a bit of a show. If she’s making a fool of herself, she might as well do it brilliantly. “O, Great Goddess! I call upon thee - All-Knowing Ruler of the Dead, Empress of the Night, Most Holy Lady of Darkness, Reigning Queen of Entropy--”

“I think that’s probably enough,” a voice comes from in front of her, amusement evident beneath its tone. “What was that one in the middle? ‘Empress of the Night’? I might keep that.”

Her head whips up towards the sound, and a woman in a deep purple cloak is leaning against her own statue, arms crossed and watching her performance with a look that can only be described as shameless delight. Gorgeous black hair framing golden eyes, like the sky wrapping itself around stars; the statue doesn’t do her justice.

“Oh my God,” Yang says, sitting back on her heels. All the preparation and rehearsing she’d done isn’t enough to conquer the shock of a beautiful, unearthly woman appearing in front of her and--

“Yes, I get that a lot.”

--mercilessly mocking her.

“Well, Yang Xiao Long?” the woman continues. “Why have you called upon me?”

“How do you know my name?” Yang says stupidly.

“I’m a god,” the goddess replies, a smile pulling at a corner of her mouth. “I’m the all-knowing ruler of the dead or whatever. Also, you said your name when you summoned me.”

“Fuck,” Yang says, struggling to regain her composure and failing spectacularly. “I - yeah. Right. Okay. Is it rude to swear in front of gods? And what do I call you?”

“I’ll allow it,” the woman says. “And you can call me Blake.”

“Blake,” Yang repeats; her hands open and close like a nervous tick. The name is a heavy weight in her mouth, settling her into steadiness. “I’ve come to request guidance.”

“Guidance?” Blake repeats, and gently lifts the note from the offering dish, turning it carefully around her hands without opening it to read it - she doesn’t need to. Yang registers faint surprise in her expression; yes, she’d assumed the sentimentality would fetch a rather large price. “This is quite the payment.”

“It’s the last note I have from someone who loved me,” Yang says. “I figured it would be sufficient.”

Those bright, inquisitive eyes glance over to her, and now the playing field has been reversed: intrigue and curiosity outweigh Yang’s atrocious initial delivery.

“Stand, please,” Blake commands softly. “I want to get a good look at you.”

Obediently, Yang rises to her feet, and with an odd jolt realizes she’s a few inches taller than the goddess. It’s unexpected, and it seems to unnerve Blake for a moment, too. Or maybe that’s the candlelight, throwing shapes and colors, turning the room cavernous. Maybe Blake is shrinking and she’s growing. Maybe once she was so tall the entire world trembled beneath her feet.

“You already have power,” Blake says, circling her curiously, and now she’s seeing what isn’t visible, looking for handprints on her soul. “You have been claimed. Whom do you answer to?”

“I didn’t receive this power from a god,” Yang says quietly. “I’ve had it as long as I can remember.”

“That’s impossible,” Blake says, and her gaze is piercing into Yang’s heart; she sees its strength, but she sees its scars, too. And its emptiness. There is plenty of that.

“Touch me,” Yang says. “You’ll find no prior claim.”

“I don’t need to.” Blake takes another step closer to her, the way you’d inspect a painting in a museum. Hands at her sides, cautious of glass and rope. “I can see your aura. But it’s impossible.”

“I’m looking for something,” Yang says, and Blake glances up, briefly meeting her eyes. “I don’t know what it is. But I’ve been looking for something for what feels like my entire life.”

Quizzical, now. One by one the candles are burning down. The room is collapsing in on them, or perhaps that’s simply the god in front of her, looking like she’d dive into Yang’s veins and unravel her if it were permitted.

“Why me?” Blake asks finally. “You know what I’m the goddess of, don’t you?”

“You guard death,” Yang says, her voice impossibly gentle; dusk flows river-like from her mouth. There is a world Blake can almost see. “But you can’t guard death without also guarding life, right? I don’t know what I’m looking for, but whatever it is, I imagine you encompass it.”

“Poetic,” Blake responds, and waits further. “I would like the truth, please. Our time is running short.”

There’s no point in playing games with gods. “The truth is stupid,” Yang says bluntly, and the corner of Blake’s mouth tilts again.

“Try me.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Yang says, and Blake’s eyebrows raise in amusement. Bold, reckless, and absolutely pushing her luck to the furthest corners it can inhabit. “Accept me as yours, and when the time is right, I will tell you the truth.”

“Is the truth that powerful?” Blake says, curious despite herself.

The last candle flutters, throwing shadows from Yang’s eyelashes to her cheek. “I think it is.”

“Welcome back, Empress of the Night,” Ruby says upon her return to the Kingdom, giving her an exaggerated bow. “I hope you enjoyed your summon, My Lady of Perpetual Darkness.”

“What the hell was that about?” Weiss asks. “I haven’t even heard you crack a joke for, like, a millennia, and suddenly you’re the court jester?”

“She was amusing,” Blake says, shrugging. “Usually people are so timid and terrified. I felt like having some fun.”

“You?” Weiss says dubiously.

“Shut up, Weiss,” Ruby says. “You mustn’t speak that way to Our Patron Saint, Duchess of Death.”

“Now you’re not even trying.”

“Don’t you both have work to do?” Blake says, ending the interrogation before it can really begin. She’s not sure she’d have the answers for them, anyway.

Yang journeys east.

Find me again, Blake had said. The closer you get to my temple, the more I can see of you. She’d brushed aside Yang’s bangs, touched a single finger to her forehead. It felt like a teardrop, or a meteor shower. It felt like digging up a grave, or chiseling into stone. It felt like the last explosion. It felt like the first breath.

You are mine, Blake had said, and something about it had felt far too right.

She crosses from Sanus to Anima, spends days traversing forests and mountains, fending off bandits and monsters. Eyes flashing red and fire licking up her skin. Aura glowing golden before breaking. There is something wrong with the trees, she thinks; there is something wrong with the sky. Like I’m looking at them from the wrong side.

Nobody is there to answer her, and not for the first time, she wonders how she came to be so alone.

Blake watches Yang’s power unveil itself from above. Yang is hers, now, and though she can’t make house calls to the world below without a summon, she at least has instant access to her claims. There aren’t many of them, and Yang is different.

It reminds her of the God of Vengeance, almost - how he absorbs power before returning it, strike by vicious strike - but Yang’s is personal, sacrificial. She feels the pain before she can utilize it, and her anger is never cruel, her actions never misplaced. And she doesn’t complain.

Sometimes, Blake wishes she would: she can hear when she’s being talked to, even if she can’t respond. Every prayer, every curse, every devastation, every hope.

She waits for the sound of Yang’s voice, but it never comes.

There’s a small shrine in a village called Shion, which is still weeks out from the docks where she can potentially get a ferry to Menagerie, but the locals are kind, and honor her far too greatly for being touched by their ruling god. They direct her to their place of worship deep in the woods, and leave her without looking back. It’s a sacred thing, a bond between a god and their chosen, and law forbids them from watching her ceremony.

Yang pulls the candle from her pouch, lighting it at the foot of the shrine. She kneels down on the stone, worn with the imprints of a thousand prayers, and says, “Blake.”

“I was wondering when I’d hear from you again.” The voice comes almost immediately, as if its owner had been waiting to be beckoned.

It’s still a bit of a shock, though she’s much better prepared for it this time. “Hi,” Yang says, and stops there before she can fuck it up.

“Hi,” Blake says, and seems to be amused against her will. More guarded, less open. Yang can read the warning signs, but she’ll cut them off at the source.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it, getting to her feet. “If I waited too long to contact you, I mean. I’m...not familiar with this area.”

“Don’t worry,” Blake says, lowering her arms. “It’s only been a few weeks. I won’t smite you until at least a month.”

Yang laughs, and unexpectedly to the both of them, Blake goes deadly still. Her body language says Yang’s done something wrong, but her expression says she’s hearing music.

The candle is burning. The moment can turn itself over gently, if Yang knows how to guide it. She keeps her smile on, but makes it quiet. “You know, I didn’t expect the Goddess of Death to have a sense of humor.”

It seems to work. “I like to surprise people,” Blake says, and moves closer. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You never talk to me,” she says, pretending to be in control of something she clearly isn’t. “Why not?”

Only the forest speaks for a moment, branches creaking, leaves rustling. And then: “Do you want me to?” Yang asks.

“It’s...something people tend to do,” Blake says slowly. “But not you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Yang says.

“It’s not a bother.” The words come out too quickly, tone too reassuring. Blake’s own want is what laces the conversation, rather than Yang’s uncertainty. That’s a new, dangerous line.

Yang takes a careful step forward, her eyes lowered to the ground as if in apology; they raise slowly, trailing over Blake’s form until meeting her gaze. Looking for lines she’s crossed, and should step back over; searching for lights that say go. Instead, she only finds an intense, hungry confusion - I want it without understanding what it is.

“You know,” she murmurs, “these statues - they never do you justice.”

And she lifts a hand to Blake’s cheek, hesitating over her skin - is that Blake’s catch of breath, or is it the wind? - before gently cupping it in her palm. She could lose an arm for this; touching a god without being explicitly asked is the greatest sin a mortal can commit, but Blake only stands there, unmoving, eyes wide and lips parted, the moon sitting in the hollow of her throat.

“Blake,” she whispers, and it can only be a god’s strength keeping her voice steady, “I’m never not thinking of you.”

The candle goes out.

Nobody is waiting for her when she returns. This is how gods give each other gifts - by saying, no, I see everything but I didn’t see you.

Yang starts talking to her, and changes her routes so that rather than taking the most direct path to Menagerie, she’s able to stop at some of the smaller shrines on the way. There are only two more, and she hasn’t called Blake since Shion. Yang hopes she’ll still come.

“Isn’t it strange,” Yang says, “how much easier it is to think about someone than to talk about them? I think about you differently than I can talk about you. I don’t even know if that makes sense.”

No response; not that she expects one. At this point, she assumes Blake’ll just kill her if she gets too annoying. Maybe a tree will fall on her, or she’ll do something embarrassing like trip over a rock and break her neck. “I can’t remember much about my life. I know there were people I loved, but I can’t see their faces. I must’ve traveled a lot; I don’t like sitting still. I don’t know how old I am, or even when my birthday is.” She’s never admitted this before; never admitted she came to lying on the ground, with only her name left ringing in her skull and a note in her pocket.

“I think you’re beautiful,” she tells the warm night air. “That’s what I was trying to say. Before. Blake, I think you’re beautiful.”

A star shoots across the sky, light trails leaving imprints against the swirling blue-purple-black of the galaxy, but it must be a coincidence.

Another shrine, another candle. This one burrowed into the side of a mountain, a dome of a room with a hand-woven rug for kneeling, several long benches behind. The statue sits against the far wall, centered.

“They’re getting better,” Yang says, getting to her feet. “This one, at least, gets your eyes right.”

“Hm,” Blake says, pressing her lips together. She moves to stand next to Yang rather than in front of her, and they both examine the statue together. “I suppose you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“Were the compliments too much?” Yang asks, impressed with how light her voice sounds. She nudges Blake’s elbow with her own. Oh, she’ll see how much distance she can cross. She’s already walked miles - she’ll swim oceans, too. “You said you wanted me to talk to you.”

“I didn’t say that,” Blake denies unconvincingly, and then pauses. “And in regards to your first question - I didn’t say that, either.”

Yang could tease her - so even gods like being called pretty, huh - or she could be brave, turn to Blake, take her face in both of her hands and lean in--

“Yang,” Blake says, and does step one of that plan by turning to her. “What do you want from me?”

Maybe the idea’s overwhelmed her to the degree that she can no longer see its risks - its potentially horrible, literally life-ending consequences - and that's what drives her to do it. Maybe it’s that Blake is looking at her like a poem; something beautiful, not to be understood by anyone but the artist who made her.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” Yang says, as if it were merely an interesting, hypothetical concept to explore and not the end of the world. “Is that possible, even if you wanted me to?”

This room is warm and close and silent. The clay is cracking where the floor meets the walls. A tunneled-through skylight is the only thing that keeps Blake from swallowing the place in shadows, instead coating them in an amber, dream-like glow. Like if you mixed the two of them together, you’d still be left with light.

“I think,” Blake murmurs, “we’re both going to have to find that out.”

Step two of her plan. Both of her hands cupping Blake’s cheeks. She’s strangely aware of her lifelines - do they mean anything to you, she wants to ask, does my life mean anything to you now and if it doesn’t, will my death - she leans in, their noses brushing, Blake’s breathing as if she needs to, Yang isn’t and she does; teach me about magic, teach me about memory, tell me how I knew you before I knew myself--

Blake kisses her, tired of her caution and hesitancy, lips parting and fists knotting around the fabric of her shirt. Yang expects them to crash together, like comets. She expects them to crumble and collapse under the impact, buried in the ruins of each other and suffocating. She expects them to decay there, reveling in their own destruction.

What she doesn’t expect is sunlight.

Her skin set aflame, Blake’s tongue in her mouth, hands traveling from her face to her lower back and pressing close - somewhere a rule is being written about the gods and desperation - Blake pulls away, gasps, her fingers begging for Yang’s heart.

“This power,” she says, mesmerized, staring at things only she can see, golden gossamer roots running up Yang’s veins. “Where did you get it?”

“I don’t know,” Yang breathes out, and kisses her one last time before the candle burns out. “But I swear I’ve never felt closer to finding out.”

Nobody attempts to stop her from barging through God’s door. Weiss and Ruby, Sun and Neptune; they all avert their eyes. I see everything, but I do not see you.

“What is she?” Blake asks, standing before them with her head bowed. “Please, God. I need to know.”

“If you weren’t already sure,” God says, “you wouldn’t be here.”

She hates it when they’re right.

Yang hits the docks; situated on the outskirts of a fishing village called Ito, and with constant transport to Menagerie, their shrine to Blake is the largest one yet.

“And this one?” Blake asks, before Yang has even begun to pray.

“How did you do that?” Yang says, staring up at her, startled. “Are we, like, super close now?”

“Shut up,” Blake says, but she’s smiling. She extends a hand, helping Yang to her feet. “Your soul calls me. You barely even have to light the candle, anymore.”

The sound of the ocean knocks on the door; the smell tackles the windows. Above, the seagulls are crying out, angry at all the fish they can’t have. Yang says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Blake says, and kisses her. Soft and chaste. Something so human and so immortal. “I missed you.”

“I’m your favorite, aren’t I?” Yang teases, her fingers catching Blake’s chin in her hands.

“No,” Blake says, and for the first time, smiles with her teeth. Oh, this is happiness. “I do this with everyone who requests my presence. I’m very popular.”

“I can imagine,” Yang says, brushing a thumb across her bottom lip. “So what else are you the god of?”

“You had a few of them right,” Blake says nonchalantly, settling against Yang’s body. She could be taller, if she wanted to be, but there’s so much beauty to see when looking up. “Night, and all things within it. Darkness, shadows. Death.”

“What else?” Yang says, watching her mouth shape every letter.

“Forgiveness, and justice,” Blake murmurs. Oh, there’s a fine print for this, and she’s violating every word. “Promises,” she continues. “Seduction.”

Hook, line - a heavy wave rattles the walls; oh, the sea, the sea! - Yang shudders against her mouth, salt sinking into her blood. Leaves her bouyant and floating, the earth bubbling up beneath her. Rising and rising and rising.

“Shockingly,” Yang says, letting Blake press kisses into the crook of her neck, “I don’t find that hard to believe.”

“God,” Blake finds herself standing before them once again, hands clasped and head bowed. She speaks formally in the presence of God, as is customary of respect. “Please, God. I am supposed to be guiding her, but I fear all I’ve done is lead her astray. I need to know where she came from, and where she is going.”

“Blake,” God says, and touches the top of her head with their hand, “she is close to your temple. Look at her, and tell me what you see.”

Menagerie is a busy, populated island, and Blake’s temple is the primary reason for that. Pilgrimages are made from around the world to pray at her shrine and leave offerings at her feet. Protect me from loss, help me navigate my grief, let me fulfill my promise.

Yang is none of those things. And when the keepers of the temple ask the reason for her journey, she says, “I am in love with her.”

“You have been touched,” one says, and bows to her upon entry. “You have as long as the goddess is willing to give you.”

The heavy doors close, but the room shimmers, firelight glittering over golden-accented walls. A large moon is carved into the marble floor, crossing over a sun. Before her is the largest, most intricately carved statue of Blake she’s ever seen, and it looks exactly like her.

Yang kneels.

“You know,” Blake says from behind her, “you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“No,” Yang says. “But it - it’s been a long journey. And I’m only here because of you.”

Blake’s footsteps echo, her boots stopping at the north point of the sun. “How do you feel?”

It’s enough to make Yang smile. “I know you heard me,” she says pointedly, but her amusement is apparent. “You hear everything I say.”

“I thought I’d give you the chance to tell me yourself.”

For the last time, Yang rises to her feet. Blake’s eyes glitter, mischievous and playful. She looks as she always has, but clearer, somehow; defined and resolute. She carries the truth in the way she extends a hand, in the way she searches for Yang’s mouth. When they kiss, Yang swears she can see another world.

“I’ll tell you something better,” Yang says. “The truth.”

She leans down, bumps their foreheads together. Blake’s arms loop around her neck automatically. Oh, Yang thinks, if I were the god of anything, I’d want it to be habits.

“So what’s the truth?” Blake asks.

“The truth,” Yang says unshakably, “is that it was you. I woke up with no memory and a note, and somehow, I knew I had to find you. The only thing I’ve been searching for is you.”

It’s you, she says. It’s you. You. You.

“God,” Blake says, and this time God is ready for her.

“Blake Belladonna,” God says, and inclines their head. “Come. Show me what you have.”

In her hands is a small slip of paper, worn and ripped around the edges. “It is a note,” she says, and unfolds it gingerly. “It is a note, God, in my handwriting.”

“And what does it say?” they ask.

“Find me,” Blake recites, “and I promise I’ll bring you home.”

“Well,” God says whimsically, “you are the Goddess of Promises.”

Tears build in the corners of her eyes, shipwrecks gaining water. “Yang,” Blake whispers, and now that she is close, she can see everything. Meteors falling from their showers; the day the sun went out. “Yang. I’m sorry. I’m so, so--”

“Shh,” Yang murmurs, pressing her lips into Blake’s hair. “What are you apologizing for? I found you, and you brought me home.”

“Oh, this is exciting,” God says. “I so rarely get to come to Remnant on business.”

“God,” Yang says, and bows her head. The temple doors remain locked; Blake’s hand is clutched tightly in her own. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Yang Xiao Long,” says God. “You fell in the last war, over five-hundred years ago. Do you remember this?”

“Yes,” she says. “I was trying to protect my sister.”

“And what happens when a god falls?”

“We forget them,” Blake says. “Their power is forfeit; they are erased from our memories, and our world.”

“It is not a law of justice, but a law of reality,” God says. “Or it was, previously. Only you did not forget immediately, Blake Belladonna. I did not know it was possible for two souls to be so intrinsically bound that they leave traces in the other, but you did not forget, just long enough to leave her a message. It took five hundred years for Yang to fall to earth, and when she awoke, she did not forget, either.

“Gods are made, and this means that what we are gods of can change,” they continue. “Blake, you were not previously the Goddess of Death. You became it because you believed that Yang had died, and no god had as strong a connection to loss as you. Your power became a beacon, just as it now will be a beacon for Remembrance.

“And you, Yang Xiao Long,” God says. “Goddess of the Sun, of Loyalty, of Sacrifice. You were many things. And now you are the Goddess of Rebirth.”

#Anonymous #bumbleby #rwby fic prompts #rwby fic

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bi-bard · 3 years

Text

Milkshakes - Team Free Will Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Milkshakes

Pairing: Team Free Will X Platonic!Fem!Reader (as put in the request)

Requested: @gabrielasilva1510

Word Count: 1,846 words

Warning(s): violence, death

Summary: [Early Season 11 (Before Episode 10)] Sam and Dean think that there's something that can be The Darkness. Castiel warns them but... who knows? Maybe God's ultimate weapon isn't as scary as it seems.

Author's Note: I used dodie for outfit inspiration because the outfit matched the vibe but change it if you want. I only used a female read because it's in the request and it helped with clarity because the whole imagine is in 3rd person (I do usually use they/them pronouns in my work). Finally, I thought the milkshake flavor sounded good, but you can change it in your mind if you want to.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

--Third Person P.O.V--

Sam was leaning over a lore book in the library. It was too early for him to be so focused on the book but he felt like he needed to. The Darkness being released was his fault, he needed to find a solution.

Dean walked in from the kitchen with a cup of coffee and was clearly still half-asleep. He sat across from his brother.

"What're you reading," Dean grumbled out in between sips of coffee.

"I found this book about the most powerful beings," Sam explained. "Most of them are just rumored to exist but I thought it'd give us a jumping-off point on where to find something to help us defeat Amara."

"Anything interesting," Dean asked.

"A Nephilim; kid of an angel and a human," Sam said. "There's no mention that they could kill someone as powerful as God. Then there's..."

Sam trailed off and went back through the book, hunting for a particular page he had read nearly an hour ago. He pointed to the page once he found it.

"This doesn't even have a name but it describes a creature created by God to be a weapon," Sam explained. "I was doing some snooping on some message boards when I first found out about it. There's a lot of religious nuts and self-proclaimed hunters who think this thing is gonna be the end of the world. They say it's a prophecy that can't be stopped."

"And you think hunting it down is a good idea," Dean asked.

"Listen, I don't think it's fair to think this thing wants to end the world," Sam replied. "I think it's the best choice we have right now."

"Alright, fine, where do we look," Dean asked.

The boys didn't have to look far before Castiel popped into the library. He asked where they had gotten on their path to defeat Amara. His eyes went wide when they explained what they wanted to do.

"Are you two insane," Castiel asked.

"Listen-"

"No, I know more about this than either of you," the angel stopped Dean's argument. "This creature could kill you both with a look and end the world with a flick of the wrist and you want to track it down?!"

"Isn't it worth trying," Sam asked.

"'Trying,'" Castiel was so unbelievable done with the idiotic decisions of the Winchesters at that point.

"If we don't try something, then Amara kills all of us anyways," Dean said. "We need something Cas. This could be the thing."

Castiel sighed, letting his head fall forward for a moment before looking back up at the boys.

"Fine," Castiel threw his hands up. "Do you know how to find this thing?"

"Looks like a spell," Sam turned the book so Castiel could look at the page. "We should have everything. It's strange no one's tried-"

"Succeeded," Castiel corrected. "People have probably tried if the spell is so simple."

"Okay, good, let's get the supplies and give it a shot," Dean clapped his hands and stood up.

In a matter of minutes, the boys and their angel were back around the table and ready to start the spell.

Castiel and Dean jumped when Sam grabbed a knife and nicked his hand.

"One of us needs to be bonded," Sam explained. "Like a human compass. It feels right that it's me."

He didn't wait for the other two to respond before he started reading the spell of the book. Castiel and Dean exchanged a look for a moment.

As he finished the spell, a purple flame shot up from the bowl for a second. Sam felt his arm tingling from the wound up. He shook it out, trying to understand what it was telling him.

States over, a young girl, a college student visiting home, is sitting in a booth at a small diner.

In between page turns, she sits up straight. Her eyes flash the same purple as the flame from the spell before she snaps out of the trance.

She looks around. Everything feels different. It's like the air had shifted around her. She furrowed her eyebrows... what the hell was that?

--time skip--

Dean pulled the impala up to the curb of the street. The three of them look at the nice house. White picket fence, two stories, a garden.

"Are you sure about this," Dean asked Sam. "This seems like a pretty normal house."

Sam nodded, "I can feel it. It's here."

"Alright, let's go," Dean replied.

The three of them got out of the car and made their way up the pathway. None of them knew what fight they were going to get once they opened that door. It could've been a deadly fight. They may not have even had a chance to fight.

Still, with one last silent check with the others, Dean lifted his hand and knocked on the door.

The last thing they expected was for a girl to open the door with a wide smile. She had a white dress on with an orange cardigan over the top.

"Hello," she said happily. "What can I help you with?"

"Sam," Dean looked at his brother. Sam just nodded. He could feel it in his gut. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)," the girl replied. "And you are?"

"I'm Sam," the taller man answered. "This is Dean and Cas."

"Nice to meet you," she held a hand out.

Sam awkwardly accepted, shaking her hand. They both froze, eyes flashing purple before they both stepped back from each other.

"That was weird," (Y/n) mumbled, frowning at her hand. "What was that?"

The boys looked at each other but before they could speak, there was a crash from inside the house. The girl jumped.

"Who's that," Dean asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "My parents are gone. No one else is supposed to be here."

Sam and Dean grabbed their guns before all of them walked inside.

Before they could get any answers for themselves, an angel rounded the corner and tried to grab (Y/n), who ran behind the others as soon as she saw the angel.

She stumbled backward toward the wall in shock and fear. She covered her mouth as the more angels walked into her living, not that she knew that's who they were.

Sam, Dean, and Cas were getting thrown around.

"Stop," Sam yelled as they walked toward (Y/n).

"We need something to defeat the Darkness," one of the angels said. "This is our option. Thank you for leading us to her."

(Y/n) was shaking more as she listened. The Darkness? Why was she so important to them? To the boys or the others who had broken into her house?

"Come on, (Y/n)," one of the angels had a hand out to her. She shook her head and the angel chuckled. "Fine. Make this harder."

The others came running at her.

"No," she yelled, dropping to the ground, and covering herself with her arms.

A pulse of energy shot out. The angels that had broken in had burned in front of her.

Dean, Sam, and Cas looked at each other.

(Y/n) slowly looked up from where she was.

"Hey," Sam walked over, kneeling next to her. "You alright?"

"What was that," she asked, shaking. "Who are you? Who were they? What did I do?"

"Hey, hey," Sam touched the girl's shoulders. "It's alright. Hey... how about we go somewhere to calm down? How about some food, yeah? Is there a restaurant nearby or something?"

She nodded. Sam helped her stand up fully and led her to the impala. Dean and Cas sat in the front while Sam and (Y/n) took the backseat.

(Y/n) rambled about a small diner nearby, giving Dean quick directions before falling silent again.

The four of them took a booth in the farthest back corner. (Y/n) sat leaning against the wall, Sam next to her and Cas and Dean across from her.

"Umm... do you know what you want," Sam asked quietly, making (Y/n) aware of the waitress there.

She was an old friend, "You alright, (Y/n)?"

"Yeah," (Y/n) nodded. "I'm just a little tired. Umm... can I get a cherry vanilla milkshake?"

"That it for you, dear," the waitress checked. (Y/n) nodded with a grin, playing with the end of her cardigan's sleeves.

The waitress took the other three's orders before walking away.

"Who were those people," (Y/n) asked. "Why did they break into my house?"

"Because God made you a weapon," Cas said bluntly, making (Y/n)'s eyes go wide.

"A weapon?"

"He means," Dean jumped in, "you have powers that you don't know about. That's why you were able to get rid of those angels."

"Those were angels," she tried to keep her voice down. They all nodded. "I thought angels were supposed to be good?"

"They are supposed to follow orders," Cas corrected. "Not all of them are good."

She nodded, "Are you guys angels?"

"No, well, Sam and I aren't," Dean pointed between him and his brother. "Cas is."

"Oh," she muttered. "You're not-"

"I'm not gonna force you to go to heaven to defeat the Darkness," Cas promised.

"The Darkness," she said. "What's that? Why do I need to fight it?"

"The Darkness is... kind of our fault," Sam explained. "She's trying to create a new world in her image, which includes destroying this one."

"So, how'd you find me," she asked.

Before they could answer, the waitress came back, dropping off their food and drinks. (Y/n) leaned forward and took a sip of her milkshake and grinned to herself for a moment.

The boys were so confused. This was God's weapon?

"Well, Dean and I are hunters," Sam continued once (Y/n) back over to him. "We hunt monsters. Our grandpa was part of this group, the Men of Letters. They have a book in their collection that talks about you. There was a spell that led us to you."

She nodded but furrowed her eyebrows. Monsters? God? Hunters? After what had happened today, she struggled to deny all of it but was still hesitant to believe them?

"Well, if the Darkness knows I can defeat... her... won't she be looking for me too," (Y/n) asked.

"We can keep you safe," Dean promised.

"You're sure?"

"As sure as possible," he nodded.

(Y/n) looked down for a moment, "Okay. I'll go with you. I just... I need to get some stuff from my house and tell my parents that I'll be gone."

"You can't tell them where you're going or why," Dean said. "It'll put them in danger."

She bit her lip, "If it saves them in the long run, fine."

(Y/n) asked a lot more questions that day as they ate in the diner. They told her about monsters and the big bads they had faced. Monsters' weaknesses and abilities. Their other hunting buddies. People she could trust.

Sam, Dean, and Cas trusted her immediately. They felt like they needed to. Like she was a person to rely on.

And there- over a cherry vanilla milkshake- (Y/n) watched her entire life change forever.

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rikalovesrice · 3 years

Text

Trollhunters : Rise of The Titans [Rika’s Version!]

AIGHT SO THIS IS WHAT SHOULD’VE FREAKIN’ HAPPENED --

The movie starts a year after Wizards. We see Douxie, Archie, and Nari all settled in Metro City. Douxie managed to get a dinky little apartment and works two jobs. He comes home after a long day to Nari and Archie.

Maybe Nari’s running around chasing after Archie. Maybe the two of them are curled up on the couch and snoozing. Douxie smiles softly, petting Archie’s head and gently brushes Nari’s hair out of her face. Maybe Nari was singing to one of her plants and just beams when Douxie walks through the door. Just Magical Siblings and Their Therapy Cat fluff.

But that night, Douxie wakes up. Something feels very, very wrong. Nari feels it, too.

Cut to the door to their apartment being busted right through, flames quickly consuming the threshold. To Douxie’s horror, it’s the Arcane Order and he immediately goes on the offensive. This is the first display in the movie of Douxie’s strength as a Master Wizard, his proficiency and skill with his magic as he holds his own against Bellroc and Skrael as he did in Wizards. He tells Archie to take Nari and run but neither of them want to leave him behind. Archie instead fights beside Douxie, urging for Nari to escape while she can. Nari’s reluctant because Douxie and Archie have become so precious to her.

When it looks like they’re about to be done in, Archie wills himself to transform into a huge dragon, taking Douxie and Nari into his claws and flying out of there, busting straight out of the apartment. But not before giving Bellroc and Skrael a thrashing with his tail. They manage to give the Order the slip. For now.

Archie quickly loses steam from holding such a form and crashes on the outskirts of the city, transforming back into a cat. Douxie cradles him in his arms. Nari tends to their wounds with her magic, looking forlorn.

Douxie frantically dials a number on his phone.

“Claire? Claire it’s me...” A column of fire erupts in the distance. A shot of Douxie, Archie, and Nari huddled close. “They found us.”

Trollhunters : Rise of the Titans Title Screen

The scene fades in on the new and improved Camelot, where the Lakes are staying. We see Jim spending time with his mother and Walter and it’s lovely. We see a hint of Jim’s trauma when he’s cooking and looks at his reflection in a spatula. He flinches away. He doesn’t want to look at himself. Barbara comforts him, a tender heartfelt moment between them.

Claire then emerges from a shadow portal with grim news : The Arcane Order have found Douxie and Nari.

Jim gathers his friends. Claire shadow portals them all to Douxie, who’s found shelter in a hut Nari made from tree roots. Douxie’s cast a barrier to hide their presence, though it won’t last long.

It’s a really sweet and awesome reunion. Douxie gives Claire and Steve big hugs. Nari bounds up to Toby and holds his hand. Jim, Krel, and Douxie have a “good to see you again, bro” moment between them. Aaarrgh licks his lips at the sight of Archie.

It’s here that Douxie gives the deets on what’s happened. As they begin to figure out a way to keep Nari safe and away from the Order, Nari suddenly says, “No.”

After almost losing Douxie and Archie, her new family, Nari decides enough is enough. She wants to face her corrupted siblings head-on. To not only protect the world, but her newfound friends.

Douxie understandably protests. But Nari, gentle but resolute, tells him she’s made up her mind. No more running.

And so, Douxie acquiesces.

Cue the sequence/fight scene on the train!

Nari realizes what Douxie’s doing when it’s too late. They switch bodies and Douxie’s taken away by the Order.

“Douxie, I’m so sorry...I couldn’t save her,” Claire laments.

Nari, in Douxie’s body, “N-no...No, I am fine. But Douxie...Douxie!”

Everyone’s like, “Oh no” but then oof, they all get arrested.

The police department scene! With Krel and the Blanks busting everyone out.

Now, we find ourselves back on Camelot where Jim’s being attended to by Walter and Barbara after waking up from a nightmare. Bellroc’s words torment him : “Without your Amulet, you are nothing but a frightened! Little!! BOY!!!”

Walter suggests Jim should lay low, let his friends handle things. Jim reaches a real low point here. Claire provides some comfort. Hand in hand, they make their way to the Round Table, where everyone’s licking their wounds.

Blinky explains to them that the Order wants to awaken the Titans and need all three members of the Order to do so. While everyone’s relieved that Nari’s safe, Douxie’s now in the Order’s clutches and they want to figure out a way to save him.

Nari, sad and grim, says that Douxie’s spell will eventually wear off.

“He is, as humans say, buying us time...”

Cut to Douxie (in Nari’s body) with the Order. Douxie doesn’t make a sound, not wanting to give anything away. They try the ritual and when it fails, Bellroc and Skrael quickly suspect foul play. They realize that Nari isn’t Nari and proceed to forcefully, painfully, undo Douxie’s spell.

Douxie wakes up, back in his own body. He’s swarmed by his friends, all overcome with relief that he’s alright, but it’s short-lived. The Order has Nari.

Douxie manages to recall where the Order took him. Before they head out, a downtrodden Jim says he should stay behind, going back to the bed chamber. Claire goes to talk to him, but Douxie stops her.

“Let’s give him some space,” Douxie says gently, though he looks just as concerned for Jim. “In the meantime,” he summons his staff, “we’ll hunt the Order down, put a stop to their schemes, and bring Nari home.”

Everyone heads to the warehouse-train track place (I forgot what it was called rip). Just then, Aja comes flying in, having been contacted by Krel. The Tarron siblings have a sweet, wholesome, long-awaited reunion. Also Staja and Creepslayerz reunited!

Aja cautions Steve about the whole seventh kiss-pregnancy thing and he quickly decides that, yeah no, he’s not quite ready for that. His Alien Queen Muffin (or whatever the heck he called her) is back and that’s all that matters to him. Also wtf Eli’s hot and taller than him now.

There’s a cute moment of Douxie and Aja really meeting for the first time. Aja recognizes him.

“Oh! You were the hand-reading waiter boy!”

Upon hearing she’s a Queen, Douxie’s Medieval chivalry kicks in and he bows at the waist.

“The name’s Hisirdoux, Your Majesty.” After Aja butchers his name, he says “Douxie” will do just fine.

Nomura abruptly reminds them they don’t have time for pleasantries. They get to it. Douxie figures out the sigil and the illusion fades, revealing the Order performing their ritual with a brainwashed Nari. They’re unable to stop it and the Order members teleport away to join with their respective Titans. We see each of the Titans rising.

The Arcadia Gang regroups back on Camelot to form a plan. Jim, discouraged and deeply troubled, is leaning over a rail, head in his hands. Douxie comes up beside him, silent.

Jim eventually asks how things went. When Douxie tells him they failed and the Titans have risen, Jim feels even more powerless and guilt-ridden.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I couldn’t...I can’t do anything. Without the Amulet I’m not the Trollhunter anymore and I’m just...useless--”

Douxie cuts him off, putting a hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“Jim. That’s not true. Do you remember what I told you? That our strength doesn’t come from special trinkets. Our strength...” Douxie finally gets Jim to look at him, “comes from our friends. From each other. All of us together. That includes you.”

“But...without my Amulet how can I do anything--”

Douxie smiles gently. “By being true to yourself, Jim. As we, your friends, are true to you.”

Just then, Claire joins them and asks if Jim’s okay. Jim smiles as Douxie ruffles his hair.

“I will be. Thanks.”

Jim, Claire, and Douxie find everyone arguing at the Round Table. Aja is wanting to evacuate everyone off of Earth, to which Blinky protests. Everyone just keeps going back and forth until Jim yells for them to stop.

Time to divide and conquer, cutting back and forth between each battle with the Titans.

Aja, Krel, Steve, and Eli tackle the Fire Titan.

Blinky, Toby, and Nomura handle the Ice Titan, with Walter and Barbara steering Camelot.

Jim, Claire, Douxie, and Aaarrgh go for the Earth Titan. Douxie’s hoping to get through to Nari and break her free from the Order’s control.

Aja and Krel fight the Fire Titan side by side on their hoverboard. Steve and Eli help civilians off the bridge and keep them safe.

Varvatos Vex in his giant robo mech incoming, along with a handful of Akiridion warships.

The Fire Titan proves to be too powerful and defeats Varvatos’ robot, melting down the Akiridion troops in the process. Aja and Krel are knocked down from their hoverboard. They and Varvatos retreat as the Fire Titan continues to burn a path towards its destination.

Toby and Nomura attempt to zipline their way to the Ice Titan to take down Skrael with Akiridion bombs. When the rope fails, Walter extends his wings to save them, but his wings quickly freeze.

Nomura grabs the bombs and sacrifices herself, bidding a heartwrenching farewell to Toby and her longtime friend, thanking them both. She asks Toby to tell Jim she said goodbye. Ever agile, Nomura scales the Ice Titan and detonates the bombs.

But to everyone’s horror, the Ice Titan only puts itself back together. Walter sinks to his knees. Toby throws down his helmet. Their friend sacrificed herself for nothing.

Aaarrgh is charging after the Earth Titan, Douxie, Jim, and Claire hanging onto his back. Claire shadow portals the three of them onto the Titan’s back. Douxie begins to plead with Nari, even as she constricts him with vines.

Douxie manages to grab her hand. He begins to break the mind-control with his magic, still calling out to Nari as he’s losing the ability to breathe.

Douxie’s voice reaches her and she breaks free. Nari frantically asks where she is, if she hurt him or his friends. Douxie, overcome with relief, just embraces her.

“You’re here with us, Nari...You’re here with us.”

Nari assures them they have a Titan on their side now. They receive communication from the Tarrons, who warn them that the Ice Titan is getting close to Arcadia.

No time to wonder why Skrael’s headed there. Claire makes a massive shadow portal to Arcadia (the field trip scene!), taking Nari’s Titan with them. Nari tries to reason with Skrael, but he’s having none of it.

NARI VS SKRAEL COMMENCE!

The Tarrons and Creepslayerz arrive on scene. Douxie boards Aja’s hoverboard and together they fire lazers and magic at the Ice Titan. Varvatos dashes and slashes his way up the Titan. Claire, Jim, Krel, Steve, and Eli work to rescue the school bus from getting crushed.

Well, it does get crushed but thankfully everyone made it off. Then, Archie comes flying in with his father, Charlemagne. Charlie flies all the students and Coach to safety. Archie joins Douxie in the air, blasting Skrael with fire.

“C’mon and face the music, Skrael!!!” Douxie summons Spellcaster and starts shredding.

Enraged, Skrael releases a devastating burst of magic that knocks Douxie, Aja, and Varvatos away. Nari seizes the opportunity to impale Skrael’s Titan, but not before Nari’s fatally wounded by him in return. Both Titans collapse.

Douxie runs to Nari, desperately calling her name. She’s on the ground, dying. Everyone gathers around, devastated. Douxie holds Nari in his arms. Archie nuzzles Nari’s arm, tears forming in his eyes. Douxie’s already crying.

“No..No, no, Nari, please...” Douxie holds her hand. “Nari, don’t go, please...!”

“It is okay, Douxie...Do not be sad...”

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I said I would protect you...” Douxie leans down, almost touching his forehead to hers (it’s Harry and Dobby y’all). His tears fall onto her face. “I said I would protect you...!”

“You did something greater, Douxie...” Nari squeezes his hand. Tears of her own roll down her cheeks. “You gave me a home. And many, many friends....” Douxie sobs harder, holding her close. “You saved me, Douxie...” She’s beginning to fade. She smiles, her eyes closing. “Thank you...Thank...”

Nari fades, wisps of magic and flower petals slipping through Douxie’s fingers. Douxie wails, Archie pressing close. Jim and Claire lay their hands on his shoulders. Claire hugs him.

Krel is then alerted that the Fire Titan is also on the move towards Arcadia.

Everyone reconvenes on Camelot. They all mourn the deaths of Nomura and Nari.

They learn that Bellroc is headed towards Arcadia, the center of the universe, because that’s where the last Heartstone is. If at least one Titan reaches the Heartstone, the world will be wiped clean.

Before they head out, Douxie and the Tarrons present Jim with a brand new Amulet, forged from magic and Akiridion technology. That, and the stone in which Excaliber lodged itself. Douxie encourages Jim to try once more.

Jim steps up on the stone, gazing fondly at his friends around him. They all place their hands on the stone in support. Jim pulls Excaliber from the stone. Everyone cheers for him.

Douxie’s seen texting someone.

FINAL SHOWDOWN IN ARCADIA

Bellroc is seen making their way towards the Heartstone. But what stands between them and the prize is the Guardians of Arcadia.

Charlemagne, Archie, and Walter soar above. Blinky and Aaarrgh lead an army of trolls. More Akiridion fleets arrive, Aja and Krel at the helm. Varvatos has a brand new robo, too.

Bellroc sneers at their defiance and summons an army of their own : hundreds of big rocky lava monsters.

BATTLE OF THE MOST EPIC OF PROPORTIONS IS A GO.

Trolls are punching, Akiridions are blasting, magicians are casting.

JIM SUITS UP WITH HIS NEW ARMOR AND EXCALIBER AND IS LIKE DON’T THINK BECOMIN’ FOR YA BELLROC FOR THE GOOD OF AAAAAAAALL

Douxie conjures up a spell to send that boy flying onto that Fire Titan.

Toby and Aaarrgh slam and hammer their way through fiery goons. Claire and Aja team up to take down the opposition, noting they should get lunch together sometime. Charlemagne tears through the enemies with his claws and wings. Krel and the Creepslayerz flail about and kick tail anyway.

Our heroes all cover one another and play off of each other’s strengths and it’s beautiful.

When Douxie’s about to get smothered by lava fists, there’s a flash of lightening and the monsters vaporize.

Douxie turns to see Zoe with a brigade of hedge wizards. Douxie’s immediately bowled over, smitten.

“About time you showed up...,” Douxie says, in a daze cause wow Zoe’s so pretty.

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of nerve --” Explosions. More lava monsters. Zoe sighs and pats Douxie’s cheek. “Ugh, focus, you big sap!”

The pair are unstoppable together, mowing down the lava monsters in powerful bursts of blue and pink.

DOUXIE’S EYES GO BLUE AND ZOE’S EYES GO PINK EPIC AVATAR STATE RINGS OF MAGIC AS THEY DECIMATE THEIR FOES WITH ROCK MUSIC BLARING YESSSS

And well, Douxie can’t help himself and gives Zoe a good long smooch after they’ve destroyed half of Bellroc’s army.

Toby in the distance : HOW LONG HAS THAT BEEN A THING?????

Archie just groans.

And meanwhile, Jim’s finally facing off with Bellroc. After having one of the most badass fights in the franchise, Jim comes out on top, skewering Bellroc in the stomach with Excaliber.

AND BOOM THEY DID IT GUYS EARTH IS SAVED.

....But not without great cost.

Toby’s been mortally wounded, crushed by the falling pieces of the Fire Titan. There’s the tearful, heartbreaking moment Jim has to say goodbye to his best friend, the one who was there with him through it all.

“We did it, Jimbo...We did it...”

Jim holds Toby in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Claire holds Jim and weeps beside him. Aaarrgh is in hysterics but is calmed to pained whimpers by Blinky. The Arcadia Gang grieves, feeling the painful weight of losing the friends they held so dear....Nomura, Nari, and now Toby.

Time Skip/Montage

Douxie found a proper apartment in Arcadia. He keeps a potted plant with those distinct pink flowers, the flowers Nari loved, on his windowsill. Smiles softly at them every time.

Scenes of Mary with Darci as she mourns. Steve and Eli hanging out. Douxie and Krel jamming, Krel creating beats and Douxie riffing on his guitar. Aja and Claire going on that lunch date. Archie taking a nap on top of Aaarrgh. Walter playing classical music.

It’s taken a while, but Jim’s starting to feel a little bit better. Douxie, Krel, Steve, and Eli came over for some bro time. Seeing the pain in his eyes, Douxie gives Jim a hug.

The final scene is a picnic at everyone’s favorite spot in Arcadia with a single bench and an awesome view of the town.

Aja and Steve are cuddling. Krel and Eli play with a frisbee. Blinky, Aaarrgh, and Varvatos laugh around a table. Douxie and Zoe, holding hands, are having a lively chat with Claire. Jim serves up a huge plate of enchiladas.

Walter and Barbara announce their engagement. Everyone celebrates.

EMOTIONAL SPEECH VOICEOVER TIME.

Aja, Varvatos, and Eli depart back to Akiridion-5. Steve honks into a tissue. Krel pats him on the back as he waves to his sister.

Barbara kisses Jim on the forehead before going home with Walter.

Zoe kisses Douxie on the cheek and heads off.

Steve and Krel are the next to go.

Douxie, Archie around his shoulders, pulls both Jim and Claire into a hug before leaving.

Blinky gives Jim a hug. Aaarrgh nuzzle him, looking sad.

Jim and Claire hold hands and sit on the bench, gazing out at the town.

EMOTIONAL SPEECH VOICEOVER ENDS T_T

The End.

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babbushka · 3 years

Text

Fathoms Below

Pirate Captain!Kylo Ren x Reader

17.2k ; CW: Graphic descriptions of violence, death, murder, sword fighting, blood & injury, mention of corpses, possessive behavior, NSFW (PIV, oral sex [F receiving] fingering, rough sex, praise kink)

Available on AO3

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

He can still remember it, all these years later.

He can remember the very first voyage, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, flush of excitement high on the bridge of his nose. As Kylo’s crew sails the Silencer through the calm waters of the Atlantic, he cannot help but remember. The crew know better than to question him now, lest they fancy a trip off the plank, so as the deep blue waters of the ocean split beneath the bow of his ship, Kylo climbs up to the bowsprit and straddles the long wooden post, letting out a deep breath.

The horizon is unchanging, as she ever is. Kylo squints into the orange of the setting sun, watching as the waves catch and sparkle in the froth that it makes as it breaks against the wooden hull of the vessel he has commandeered now for longer than he has lived ashore.

“Where are you?” He asks out into the waves, casts his voice as far as it will go, desperate beyond measure, sick with the want of seeing you again, as he remembers.

Oh, I bid farewell to the port and the land

And I paddle away from brave England's white sands

To search for my long ago forgotten friends

To search for the place I hear all sailers end

As the souls of the dead fill the space of my mind

I'll search without sleeping 'til peace I can find

I fear not the weather, I fear not the sea

I remember the fallen, do they think of me?

When their bones in the ocean forever will be…

He had been naught but nineteen, when the maiden voyage of HMS Finalizer sets sail. A crew of nearly three hundred men hoisted the sails of the warship, led by the decrepit Captain Snoke as they embark on a crusade of sorts in the warmer waters away from Liverpool. The old man, a battle-worn scoundrel with a sunken in face and long white beard has given this young boy his first chance of the open seas, and said boy has taken it. On his first voyage ever, the young skipper leaves behind the world of the land to instead live out his days on the sea.

And what a magical world it is! A world of adventure, loyalty and trust, of code and honor – unlike the petty realm of government and policy which he has so quickly abandoned, the realm of his mother and uncle; no, a desk job was never in the cards for him, not for him. He longed for the sea, and now he has her. Much like a sponge that lives on the bottom of the depths, he soaks up knowledge and skill as fast as he can, they will not regret the day they brought him aboard. For weeks he studies and practices and learns the ropes, learns the nature of the Finalizer and how to care for her.

He meets a band of older gentlemen, who take him under his wing. Vicrul was the navigator, he taught the young boy how to read the stars with just his eyes and his compass. Cardo was the boatswain, and he taught the young boy how to seal the ropes so the braids wouldn’t rot, how to swab the deck until the floorboards shone. Ushar was the master gunner, who taught the boy how to load and fire the cannons, taught him to be grateful he wasn’t a powder monkey scampering through the rigging. Trudgen was the carpenter and taught the boy how to repair the holes which inevitably would find their way into the hull of their ship, taught the boy how to repair just about anything he could think of. Kuruk, the surgeon, taught the boy how to fix everything that Trugden could not.

And Ap'lek, why he might be the most important of the gentlemen of all, for Ap’lek was a musician and could play nearly any instrument placed in his lap. It is with Ap’lek that the boy spends much of his time, learning the melodies and harmonies of the sea, for it is by song which the whole ship works, and the ship does not work without it.

It is a song that they are singing now, the young boy in line with a row of far stronger and taller men. The salty spray of the sea splashes onto his face, as the skipper’s muscles are put to good use on the long-haul, as he and his brothers call out in time to the songs that the shanty master belts out with his strong lungs. That had been the one question Captain Snoke had asked of him,

“I’m fast, and strong, Captain, and am an excellent climber – ” He had boasted proudly, puffed his chest up to mask the lank of his limbs.

“Aye,” The old man had cut him off, glanced him up and down, “But can ye sing?”

Even if he hadn’t he would have lied, he supposes.

And even if he hadn’t, he would have learned soon enough. As he hoists himself up the ropes, as he feels the breeze and the sun in his hair, he thinks he might fancy being a shanty master himself one day. The work is hard, the work is brutal, but the songs make it worth it, they pass the time and fill everyone with a spirit that pushes the ship forward.

He had sailed halfway through the Atlantic fighting the enemy, blowing holes in the hull of their ships where he knew they had not a Trugden nor an Ushar to defend themselves, and in those few weeks he felt he had already outgrown this ship. Lying awake at night, he wished for a chance to one day commandeer his own, how he would be a far better captain than the likes of Snoke. If there was one thing he learned all on his own, it was that he would do anything to be rid of Snoke.

Oh, if only he had watched his words.

The storm comes as storms often do – a whipped up frenzy of wind and wave, Poseidon’s fury crashing down around them. Startled awake, his vision shorts out as the ship is illuminated by bright cracks of lightning as the sea churns inky black below. It crept up to them at night, with no warning save for the pressure in the air. That pressure, and the creaking groaning planks of the ship, the rocking of her belly.

By the time the storm was noticed by the rest of the crew, it was too late. Lightning strikes the staffs and catches the sails on fire, alarm bells ring, men shout and shout and shout and pray.

“All hands on deck!” Cardo’s booming voice rises above the thunder, above the shouts of concern that pour from the hammocks high in the rigging where the boys all sleep.

Down down down the shrouds they rush, shrouds which the wind whips and flings about in a panic. The integrity of the Finalizer is tested now, for they have survived cannons, but gunpowder is no match for the fury of the sea. The young boy feels a spike of adrenaline in his chest, this is the first storm he has ever seen, and he has a sickening feeling that it might be his last.

Heave and ho, the winds send the ship headed towards rocks hidden underneath the waves, a gash too large torn through the starboard side, water flooding in. He does not know which way to go – to pump the water out, to hoist the sails, to put the fires out; there is chaos, and he does not know where to begin. Men rush past him as the ship tils and lurches from one side to the next, chests and barrels and piles of supplies sliding dangerously to and fro, knocking crewmen over the sides before the swelling crashing deadly waves have a chance to sweep them off their feet.

Waves some twenty, thirty feel tall curl in on themselves and smash down onto the deck, and now those shouts turn to screams, as they realize, as they all realize there is no saving this vessel. Lightning strikes, and he is pushed, urged towards a small boat, and he does not know how if they cannot survive on the big ship, how a little one would be of much help.

“To the rowboats -- !” Someone calls, the boy does not know who, not in this frenzy. His vision is shaking, as he runs and runs from one side of the ship to another, trying to stay level, trying to stay upright as the Finalizer nearly capsizes.

“There’s no time!” Ushar growls, the pipe he holds clenched between his teeth nearly splitting in two, as lightning strikes once more, as flaming bits of sail flutter around and land on the flesh of men.

“Captain – where is the captain?” The boy demands, because surely Snoke must know what to do, Snoke is the only one who can give orders – except when he sees Snoke, he sees him frantically rowing out in the distance, far greater distance that he should have been able to row in the storm like this. The boy is thrown against the rail of the ship with another lurch from the waves, and he panics, “What is he doing?”

“Don’t be daft son, he’s leaving us to die.” Vicrul sneers, water sloshing in a grand arc behind him, lightning illuminating the mouth of gold teeth he sports, his mouth turned into a grimace.

That was the first time in the young boy’s life, where he truly felt fear. Snoke must have sensed the storm coming, and instead of raising the alarms, he had snuck out like a snake in the night. And in doing so, his captain had condemned them all.

“Will we?” The boy asks with terror in his wide brown eyes, as Kuruk and Ap’lek can only stare at one another (years later, sitting here on the bowsprit, he realizes that they were trying to find a way to say I love you before it was too late).

He does not get an answer, before the cold smack of water carries him off and away, as the body of the ship splits in two, as lightning and thunder sear into his brain. Someone shouts for him, but he cannot hear them, all he can hear is the rushing thrumming sound of the ocean.

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

Beneath the waves, it is calm.

More than calm, it is quiet. He cannot remember a time where it had ever been so quiet. Up above the waterline, he knows it must be hell, but down here in the embrace of the sea, there is naught he can do but listen to the quiet and feel the burn in his lungs. The world around him is black from the lack of the sun, but the flashes of lightning way above him send shimmers of rich emerald greens all around.

The currents are too strong, there is no fighting them. With the burn in his lungs only growing, growing more desperate for air that will not come, The boy sinks sinks sinks, a chest of cannon balls pinned to his stomach, sending him deeper.

He thinks of his mother, he thinks of the look on her face when he told her he would follow in his father’s footsteps for a life on the sea.

He thinks of his father, of the smuggler’s word he had given to come back home.

It looks like neither of the men in Leia’s life would be making good on their promises of return, he thinks.

An impossibly darker blackness creeps up through the corners of his vision, and he feels empty, so empty. The lightning a thousand feet up ahead crackles through the water, as he begins to slip away. A last burst of breath bubbles out of his mouth, the water is cold as his back hits the soft sand of the ocean’s floor.

He stares straight up and takes one final look at the watery world above him, and he resigns himself to his fate – when the last flash of lightning backlights a figure bolting towards him, arms outstretched, fingers spread in a frantic push to grab him.

With the last of his strength, though his body is crushed, he lifts one hand out to meet them.

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

He rests at the bottom of the ocean, as your fingers twine through his. Your hair is long and it flows around your face, a face which he cannot see and yet somehow can see perfectly. Your eyes glow white, so brightly that it illuminates the space like the lightning, but instead of a mere flash, it is a steady glow, much like a lighthouse on a craggy shore.

However it is not your eyes which captivate him, it is your body. For one, he has never seen a naked woman’s breasts before, and so the sight of your chest uncovered is a sight he fixates on, but only for a moment as he realizes very quickly that in the place where your legs should be, is a great and glorious tail.

It is long and glittering as the light from your eyes reflects off the scales, and he has a hard time believing that this is real, that you are real, especially when you open your mouth and speak aloud to him under the water, asking, “What is your name?”

The burn in his lungs is no more, he realizes, and when he breathes in, water does not fill the empty spaces inside of him.

“Am I dead?” He whispers, finding with relative ease that he can sit up, there on the ocean floor.

He looks around himself, sees the fallen sailors with whom he had just been singing not two hours ago, sees the debris of the ship which has sunk in large shattered pieces, nestled all around. The flag of Great Britain tattered and torn, mocking them all as the current creates an illusion that it is waving.

You smile curiously at him, settling yourself around him, your tail draped over his lap as you check him for injury.

“No, would you like to be?” You reply, and he’s not so sure he believes you, for such a thing as this cannot be possible, not in a million years, it cannot be.

“No – I – ” He stutters, watches as bubbles dance up to the surface.

“Your name, sailor.” You ask again with a gentle smile, and he hesitates.

His name, what was his name? He had one of course, but…but was that really his name? No, it wasn’t, he reasons. That was a name he had been given, one laden with expectation and pressure that he never wished to inherit. Even aboard the ship, he was not called by his name – although his nickname wasn’t much better. He makes a decision then, a decision he had longed to make when he was alive.

Because surely he was dead, and if he were a dead man, then at least he would die the man he wanted to be, as opposed to the man the world told him he had to become.

“Kylo Ren.” The name leaves his lips with a certainty that he did not know he possessed, especially for saying the name out loud for the first time. He had called himself Kylo in secret for years, and somehow, it felt good to have that secret come to light, even if it were too late.

“Kylo Ren.” You repeat, and he finds that it sounds even better coming from your lips, the sound almost intoxicating, your voice and cadence of speaking music to his ears. “’Tis a strong name, that one. How many years do you have under your sails, Kylo?”

“I – this is my first time.” Kylo admits, and your white glowing eyes widen, a hand on your chest in surprise.

“First time out at sea and already caught in my storm? You’re either very lucky, or very unlucky.” You shake your head, your hair following in a rippling motion, floating in the water.

“You’re beautiful.” Kylo says, as he feels his heart opening up, as he feels the burn of his lungs returning, the chill of the water a contrast on his skin once more.

“I know.” You grin, too many teeth in your mouth, and it is then that Kylo’s mind begins to catch up with him.

“Did you say your storm?” He asks, air bubbling out of his mouth, air that he didn’t know he possessed, air that he knows now that you’ve given him.

Kylo doesn’t know how, but he knows he is not dead, he knows that you have done something, you wield some power of the deep. He knows that you have saved him.

“Lucky, I think.” You laugh, the sound more melodic than any of Ap’lek’s songs could ever be, the sound filling filling filling Kylo with air. “Yes, I daresay you’re lucky.”

“I – are you an angel?” Kylo frowns, as he feels the chest of cannon balls slip away from his legs, feeling regaining in his limbs once more. The water rushes and thrums around him, but he doesn’t feel afraid, not as you take him by the hand and lead him slowly up to the surface.

“An angel? No, no I’m something far more sinister.” Your scales shimmer and glimmer and glitter in the moonlight, the waves are calm once more as you swim with him up up up.

“You’re so beautiful.” Kylo says, because he can’t think of anything else to say, and this pleases you, and he finds that he would very much like to spend the rest of his life making you happy.

Through the surface of the water Kylo’s face breaks, and all at once lungs fill with real air, salty briny moonlit air, and he gulps it down, coughs and splutters water. Kylo’s limbs are sore, he’s freezing cold, he feels sick – and all of this lets him know he is well and truly alive.

You’re watching him intently, watching him carefully, your eyes no longer glowing now that your face is out of the water. Guiding him to a rowboat which sits empty atop the water, you help him into it.

He doesn’t want to let go of your hand.

“Promise me something, and I won’t drown you.” You tease, although Kylo cannot tell that you are teasing, he’s too in shock of how he is here – of why he is here and his fellow brothers remain at the bottom of the ocean.

“Anything.” The word tumbles easily, quickly, and you tsk against the roof of your mouth, shaking your head.

“’Anything’ is a dangerous word to be said to a mermaid.” You whisper, but Kylo doesn’t care.

“I’ll do anything.” He insists, feeling in his heart, in his very core, that he wants to be with you forever. He’d sell his soul, to be with you forever.

So when you smile sadly at him, and give his palms a tight squeeze, before you slip your hands away and begin to sink back down into the water, until Kylo cannot see your beautiful breasts or your too-sharp teeth, until all that can be seen of you are your eyes which begin to glow once more, he panics with confusion.

“Grow up, big and strong, live long.” Your voice swirls around inside his head, and he rushes to the side of the rowboat to reach for you, even after you have submerged yourself fully, he still reaches, “Come find me when you have commanded the respect of the ocean upon a ship of your own. Find me, and tell me you’ll do anything for me then.”

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

Plot a course to the night to a place I once knew

To a place where my hope died along with my crew

So I swallow my grief and face life's final test

To find promise of peace and the solace of rest

As the songs of the dead fill the space of my ears

Their laughter like children, their beckoning cheers

My heart longs to join them, sing songs of the sea

I remember the fallen, do they think of me?

When their bones in the ocean forever will be

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

The black sails of the Silencer are puffed full with wind, full speed ahead as they exit Port Royal. Sitting atop the bowsprit, Kylo stares into the glittering ocean, the horizon casting golden rays of light through the deep blue sea. His crew is merry, the weather is pleasant, and yet still a sour feeling lingers in his stomach.

Where were you? Surely now was the time, was it not? Kylo had grown, oh how he had grown, both in size and stature indeed. But more than that, he had done as you asked – as he had always wanted to do. There were no man so fearsome as that of Captain Ren, no ship that saw the sails of the Silencer and won the battle which soon followed.

His chests were filled with gold, which he sold for a pretty penny to the highest bidder, and often reserved himself a chest or two to simply fill his tub with and bathe in the riches. His barrels were filled with rum and food, his crew never having gone hungry, not even for one meal. His wardrobe was filled with expensive silks and linens, donning himself in clothes fit for a leader, but ensuring his crew were dressed as lavishly – these reasons and more are why year after year his crew elected him Captain.

In fact, the annual election had just taken place at the docks of Port Royal, where it was a unanimous vote. Kylo should be celebrating, he should be naked in a brothel surrounded by gorgeous men and women – it was the 1660s after all – he should be drinking to his heart’s content and pleasuring himself with life’s greatest fortunes.

Instead, he sits up on the bowsprit, and speaks to the sea with a melancholic eye. A single eye, for that’s all he has left, the other blinded in a battle he fought many a year ago. His crew takes notice to this, and as they perform their mid-morning duties, a few of them gossip among themselves, as pirates are often wont to do.

“He’s up there again?” A nimble fingered lad named Mitaka, not more than fifteen years of age, speaks up as he braids rope with the efficacy of a man with decades of practice. He had just joined the Silencer’s crew, had practically begged Kylo to take him aboard back in Port Royal, and though the Captain had a reputation for being volatile and coarse, he never turned away a face in need.

“Aye, with the telescope, same as every day.” His hammock-neighbor, Thannison, pipes up from his spot not too far across the deck, on his hands and knees scrubbing away.

“What’s he lookin’ for d’ya reckon?” Mitaka wonders aloud with the sort of curious nature that only someone young as he could still possess.

Thannison looks around, checks over his shoulder and then casts a glance up to the Captain himself, to Kylo who is unmoving, sitting far and away high above them all.

“A mermaid.” He whispers, and even though he is careful, the breeze still carries his voice, the word reaching the ears of the Silencer’s navigator, an ex-General of the Royal Navy.

“A myth, more like.” Hux scoffs with a roll of his eye, drawing the attention of Victoria the First Mate, a woman stronger than half the men aboard the ship combined.

“Don’t let the Captain hear ye talkin’ that way, what he’s lookin’ for ain’t none of our business.” She stands at the helm, not that there’s much work to be done now on such calm waters. They’re traveling windward to their great advantage, and the skies do their part in keeping the seas steady.

“But it is, isn’t it? We’re his crew, we sail his ship, don’t you think it’s our business what we’re lookin’ for?” Hux mutters, where he is reviewing charts over yonder portside.

“I said – ” Victoria storms over with her thick soled boots, storms straight through the freshly scrubbed floor poor Thannison had just polished, to shove a menacing blade of her short dagger in the direction of Hux’s narrowed eyes, “Don’t. Let. The Captain. Hear.”

Little displays of animosity like this were not rare among the crew, as pirates generally weren’t the most easy-to-get-along-with types, but Mitaka watches with a curious eye as Victoria walks away, down through a hatch in the deck, no doubt to retire to her rooms for the afternoon.

“You’d think she’d be in better spirits, what with seein’ her wife ‘n all.” He offers up, makin’ just about everyone within earshot chuckle.

“We could have been in port for a month, and Victoria would miss Gwen the moment they part.” Thannison replies, and this at least, Mitaka can understand.

“Does the Captain miss his mermaid?” He asks, eager to learn everything, eager to know, “Is she even real?”

“He says she is, but no man nor lass has ever seen her, and certainly never come back alive. They say she saved him on the night the Finalizer sank – that he was the only one she saved.” Hux throws a wary glance up to Kylo, who remains unchanged up on the bowsprit.

“Why?” Mitaka wonders aloud softly.

“No one knows.” Hux replies just as softly, for this truly is the one question which hangs on everyone’s mind, the one question that only Kylo would know, but even he is at a loss for the answers. “But as long as I’ve been aboard this ship, he has been looking for her. Now, no more questions, don’t you have rope to braid?”

“Aye sir!” Mitaka busies himself with his tasks once more, and Kylo, high up above them all, is grateful for it.

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

Of course he knows the rumors that spread, the worries that he is going mad. Much like a man chasing an elusive ship, or a hunt for treasure that didn’t exist, those who knew Kylo knew him to be a man fixated on the impossible. They say he has been on the sea too long, that twenty years should be his limit. Others say he is a drunk, and that his stories of a finned woman with long hair and glowing eyes can only be the result of a blackout.

No one says any of this to his face, for they would be run clean through with his saber if they did, but he knows, oh how he knows they say it.

Kylo often wonders if maybe they’re right, if maybe all this is for naught. If perhaps, ‘twas a delusional vision of a boy clinging to death, an overactive imagination. He supposes he will soon find out, for if there were ever come a time where he was Ready, it would be now.

He has sunk a hundred ships, he has slain more than twice that number of men with his own sword. He has sailed to the very corners of the ocean, has made friend and foe in every port known to privateer. The world knows his name, even if they cannot catch his ship. But none of that would matter, if you did not think so.

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

The sunlight glimmers on the water, and Kylo’s eye is drawn to a shifting movement in the waves at once. In an instant, his heart rate picks up, for he’s certain he’s just seen a flipper, certain of it!

Standing up and steadying himself on the long wooden beam, holding onto the ropes which are tied down to the wooden mast for balance, Kylo sheds himself of his hat, his coat, his saber and gun, before he sprints down the length of the bowsprit, until there is no wood beneath his feet, and he is swan diving into the ocean below.

On deck, all activity ceases, as the entire crew races to the bow to try and see where Kylo had gone. His hat and coat and loose artifacts fall into the hands of the men and women that make up Kylo’s ship, and they all clutch to them tightly, for they know how much Kylo cares about his clothes.

“Captain?” Hux shouts, cups his hands around his mouth and booms with exasperation, “Captain Ren – oh god dammit, Kylo!”

“What in the blazes does that boy think he’s doin’?” A gruff voice sounds from further back, and everyone’s eye turns to the young boy who is shedding his clothes too, looking for all intents and purposes that he’s going to do something rash.

“We have to go after him!” Mitaka’s face is bleak with worry, thinking that Kylo might have fallen over or been knocked down by the winds, that he must be injured or drowned.

But the First Mate knows better, and with a shake of her head and a resigned sigh at Kylo’s theatrics, she whistles for attention and all stand still to listen.

“He’ll come back, let him go.” Victoria puts a firm hand on Mitaka’s chest to prevent him from jumping overboard too. Everyone listens to her, Mitaka included, although he cannot stop staring out at the sea, watching for Kylo.

Since that fateful night, Kylo had trained himself how to hold his breath and how to swim well, skills which serve him now more than ever, as he chases what he thinks to be your tail. His legs propel him, muscular thick thighs that work double time, as his rippling biceps cut through the water, his body built but streamlined.

Where are you where are you where are you?

It’s all he can think, until he cannot think of anything but air, and he kicks towards the surface as seagulls caw above him, the sun blinding in a blaze of orange. With a deep sigh, he allows himself to float, his arms and legs spread out like a starfish on a rock, the sun warming his skin.

“If I am not ready now, will I ever be?” He asks aloud, wondering, hoping that you can hear him.

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

When he returns to his ship, he is met with not a single questioning glance, and for this he is grateful. His pride is hurt, his ego wounded, he cannot understand what he’s done wrong to make you keep him waiting this way. Slinking into his quarters, he strips down out of his wet clothes before even checking to make sure the room is empty, and draws his sword when a creak from the grand chair in the corner alerts him.

“What were ye thinkin’ this time? Hm?” Victoria leans forward, her elbow on her knees. “That you saw her again?”

Victoria was the first person to ever give Kylo a chance, when he washed ashore at the port, a scared starving boy alone in a rowboat. With that chance, he built an empire of piracy unlike that had ever been seen, and he brought her along with him to share in the riches. She was probably the only one who could ever speak to him the way that she speaks to him now.

“As a matter o’fact, yes.” Kylo bares his gold teeth at her in a menacing sneer, and she only rolls her eyes and throws a warm dry robe into his arms. Kylo puts it on without hesitation, not really wanting to expose himself to a woman he considers more of his sister than the one he has by blood. “This is about where she was the last time, where it happened.”

Bundled up in his robe, Kylo pours Victoria a glass of rum, and she accepts it with a sigh as he lays down in his bed with a groan. She takes a sip and watches him carefully, cautiously.

“Twenty years is a long time, Kylo.” She says, and Kylo lets out a long, heavy sigh and rubs the tension from his forehead.

“Believe me, I know.” He mutters, voice deep, tired. He sounds tired, feels tired. “We stayed at port too long, I fear that’s how we missed her.”

“You know I do not doubt you that this woman once saved you. But have you thought about the possibility that something might have happened to her in all this time? That maybe she is simply not out there anymore, unable to wait for you?” Victoria speaks softly, not wanting to get Kylo angry, but wanting him to face the facts. “I worry for you sometimes Kylo, perhaps you might think of setting your sails on a different prize – ”

“She is not a prize.” Kylo snaps, leveling his First Mate with a deadly glare, the kind of glare that should send shivers of fear down a normal person’s spine. But then, Kylo deflates, and he casts his eye toward the porthole window, hoping for those flippers to surface once more as he whispers, “She is something far more precious, something that cannot be owned. If ye be so inclined to know, I spoke to her two nights ago.”

“You did?” Victoria’s eyebrows shoot up, eyes blinking in shock.

“Aye, in a dream. And she called to me, called me here, so here is where I have sailed.” Kylo spits back, and this only makes her expression soften once more. “And when we are reunited once more, you’ll all see.”

“For your own sake Kylo, I hope so.” She pats his ankle, before swinging back the rum and leaving his quarters for him to sulk.

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

He is nearly asleep, when he hears it. The whisper, the ghost of his name, drifting to his ears through that porthole window left slightly ajar. He likes to sleep in this way, likes to breathe in the salty crisp air of night, likes to listen to the gentle lap of the waves. The ship is calm, in the middle of the night, the crew asleep in their hammocks or rooms below deck. There is nothing but the creak of the wooden decks, the flutter of the sails, and the steady rocking that has Kylo this close to dreaming, when he hears it.

“Kylo Ren…” The sound makes his eyes snap open, makes his heart beat fast in his chest. He thinks he’s hearing things, maybe conjuring them up in his own mind, but no, there it is again -- “Kylo Ren...”

Out of his bed at once, he throws on clothing. Clothing he has reserved specifically for this moment, clothing he has purchased just for you. With stockings slipped up onto his legs, Kylo steps into his black breeches and tucks in a loose-fitting white linen shirt, securing his waist with a crimson sash. The very same crimson adorns his brocade waistcoat, which he buttons up so quickly and with such shaky fingers, that he has to redo it twice. He has three golden earrings in each of his ears, and two golden bands on each finger.

He doesn’t have the time to wonder if you’ll find the appearance pleasing, as he brushes through his long black hair and ties it back with a crimson ribbon, because your voice is growing louder and more clear, and he is compelled to answer it.

Buckling his boots, Kylo ascends from the suite he calls home and finds at once, a pair of white glowing eyes not far from the starboard side of the Silencer.

“It’s you!” He whispers, nearly chokes on his spit as he does it, rushing to the rail and practically falling over the edge.

He holds his breath, waiting, hoping, and then yes! Yes it is you, you flick your tail happily in the moonlight, your scales shimmering and glittering the way he has so often dreamed about. You disappear beneath the inky waves then, and when Kylo is about to protest, your beautiful body is propelled out of the water, you do an elegant flip, spraying him with seafoam playfully upon impact once again with the waves.

“I’m coming – just a moment, I’m coming!” For the first time in decades, a grin has split across Kylo’s surly face, his gold teeth reflecting the same way your scales do, and he jumps overboard, dives down into the water for the second time, knowing this time, you’re really there.

The sound of your laughter fills the spaces between the scars of his flesh, makes him whole, for the first time since he was a young boy. Your arms encircle him when he swims swims swims as fast as he can to reach you, and you surprise him by being faster – your tail propelling you forward more quickly than his mere legs ever could. Your reunion sings through the ocean, and he cannot take his palms away from your cheeks, he cannot look away from your glowing eyes, he does not want to, not now, not after so long.

You hug him then, floating on your back so he can be propped up atop your breast, and not accidentally pushed under the water. The two of you embrace in every sense of the word, and Kylo is thankful for the sea, for masking the tears of relief he feels.

When he leans his head in towards you, you do not deny him the kiss he so desperately seeks, and this kiss – though it is not Kylo’s first – fills him with a sense of completeness that has him groaning into your mouth. You smile against his lips, you let him wind a hand into your hair, another groping at your breast. The surface of the water is calm, there are no waves now to rock you both, and so you can indulge in one another like this lazily.

There is so much Kylo wants to ask you, so much he has to say, but in this moment, your union transcends language, as your minds meld together, a gate of sorts opening, letting the floodwaters free. He slides his tongue against yours and sighs into your mouth, clutches at you tightly, out in the open sea. If this were to take place inside his cabin, he knows the inside of the windows would be fogged from the heat that he can feel curling around your bodies.

“Kylo Ren.” You break the kiss at last, if only to give Kylo a chance to breathe, but you do not go far. You rest your forehead against his and he strains to look at you in the dark, through the closeness. “I have heard of the stories, how they echoed across the sea.”

“You’re here, it’s you, you’re real and you’re here.” Pride wells up in Kylo’s chest, his ego inflamed, knowing the tales of his legacy have reached you. That is all he has ever wanted, and it is indescribable the way he feels knowing that in this he has succeeded.

“Of course I am, I told you I would be when you were ready for me, didn’t I?” You pet back the long dark locks that curl and cling to his wet cheeks, a thumb soothing across his lips as you lean in for another chaste kiss.

“You never told me your name.” Kylo says, because it is something he has wondered for twenty years, a question he has had burning inside his soul for just as long.

“My name? Hmm I have had many.” Chuckling, you duck your head, bashful. No one has ever asked you for your name, not once. “Names that have been given to me, names I have been called, many names. But tell me, what do you call me in your mind? When you lie awake at night and think of me, what slips past your lips?”

This sends a shiver of desire down Kylo’s spine, the way that you lean in and speak into his mouth, the way you smudge the words against his lips, your wet lashes dragging and brushing against his cheek. He’s halfway hard as it is, the thick line of his cock pressing through the layers of his soaking wet clothes, and all he can do about it is sigh, as he gropes at your breast once more.

“The only sounds I utter are the groans of pleasure which come from the very thought of you.” Kylo’s voice rumbles through his chest and into yours, and you grin, ducking your head, bashful.

“You’re charming. You may call me (Y/N).” You whisper to him like it is some secret, something that neither the moon nor the stars is privy to hear.

“Will you come aboard my ship (Y/N)?” He tests the name out on his tongue, and your scales shimmer with the way it sounds. That makes his pride swell further, makes his cock harder, but not so hard that he loses the clarity of mind to ask, “Can you?”

Your smile falters, but not by much. That beautiful tail breaks the surface once more, shimmering, ethereal before him. Kylo is mesmerized, he has always been mesmerized by you, but you being here in front of him, mesmerizing him now, is far better than the way he has lost himself in his dreams.

“I cannot, not like this. If my scales dry, then I die. So, in the water I must remain.” You explain, and Kylo tries not to let his heart break.

“I see.” He refuses to accept this, even though he understands why it must be so. He refuses, he has not come this far to leave you now.

Noticing his apparent distress, you hug him closer, kiss at his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

“There is…a way.” You start, licking your lips nervously, your voice hushed in the night.

“Tell it to me, I want to help you, the way you helped me.” Kylo replies at once, a sense of urgency in his voice, thinly veiled desperation.

You turn your gaze away from him, your eyes like two beams of starlight, shooting out into the black abyss. Kylo had nearly forgotten that the two of you were floating in the open ocean just next to his ship, until you illuminated the world beyond.

“There is a cave ahead, beyond the craggy rocks.” You say ominously, half-afraid he’ll take you up on the offer, “Only a creature on two legs can reach it, for it is up above the water’s edge.”

“What secrets does it hide? What must I bring back for you?” He takes you up on it immediately, knowing that whatever he has been training for, whatever he has been doing with his life, all that he has learned, has led him to this moment for you.

“A golden medallion strung on a black cord.” Your eyes glow brighter with each word you speak, and Kylo finds himself getting pulled into your story with bated breath. “Decades ago, long ‘fore even you were born, ‘twas stolen from me by a man with a long white beard. He snuck upon me whilst I was asleep one day, tore it from ‘round my throat. I got my revenge on him -- killed him for it, sunk his ship in my storm, but the medallion was no longer in his possession when he drowned. I demanded to know what he had done with it, and with his dying breath he taunted and teased how I’d never reach it.”

“Until now.” Kylo assumes, because you are regarding him with such hope that he knows he cannot let you down. You saved his life, the very least he can do is repay you in this small way.

You crowd his space, your hands on his cheeks once again, your lips brushing against his own.

“I’ll go with you, I can show you the way.” You whisper, kissing him, thankful, hopeful, elated in a way that makes Kylo’s heart beat beat beat loud in his chest.

“When?” He demands, a voice commanding and fit for a Captain.

“Now.” You grin, taking him by the hand in a way that Kylo has memorized in his sleep, and leading him back to the side of his ship where he might climb up the notches in the hull to reach the deck once again.

“Now?” He blinks, having hoped that he could perhaps spend some time with you in his nice warm bed…he would have found a way around your hydration needs, he would have --

“We must go before the dawn breaks, the waters are dangerous when It wakes.” You interrupt his internal monologue, and there is something chilling about the way that your voice catches. “Take the rowboat, you’ll need your strength.”

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

Kylo rows the small vessel through the blackness of night, the clouds having covered the pale shine of the moon. It is no matter, because your eyes glow in a beacon of their own, as you swim beside him. Keeping in time with his pace, your fin lazily pushes you forward, and in the quiet, Kylo decides on which of his millions of questions he wants to ask you first.

“Do you live here?” He settles on. He means both the cove you lead him to and the waters around Port Royal, wondering why in all the time he has spent here, he has never seen you.

“Yes…and no. The ocean in her entirety is my home, I swim from place to place as I please, and sleep wherever my head rests.” You explain, your voice calm and thoughtful. Kylo commits your answer to memory, wanting to absorb every piece of knowledge about you that he can as you continue, “Sometimes that’s a port such as this, sometimes it’s an anchor on a ship, other times it’s on my back, floating in the sunshine. Although I’ve been nearly harpooned that way, so I don’t do it often.”

The humor in your voice at the harpoon mention is lost on Kylo, and he nearly stops rowing as he processes your words, as he dares not to get his hopes up. He does not, however stop rowing, because your earlier comment of a Thing in the waters makes him want to complete this mission as quickly as possible.

“When you say the anchor of a ship, you don’t mean…?” Still, he has to know.

You’re quiet then for a moment, and he knows his suspicions are confirmed, by the very hesitation in your voice.

“I check on you, now and again.” You admit, making him feel both absolutely fucking elated that he has been right all along, and devastated that you have been so close and somehow, somehow always just out of reach. “I always have, wanting to make sure you were safe.”

“And you never said anything?” Kylo doesn’t restrain the question, trying not to let his temper get the better of him.

He thinks of all the ridicule he could have been spared, all the doubt, all the sleepless nights of worry that he was losing his mind, if only you had said something. But then again, he reasons, he wouldn’t be the person he is today, had he not gotten into those fist fights for standing up for his dignity, and then maybe you never would have deemed him ready.

“I couldn’t interfere, that wouldn’t be fair to you.” You explain, proving his reasoning to be correct. You don’t sound apologetic, nor regretful for it as you say, “I wanted you to become a person of your own right, your own making, free of influence from anyone, even myself.”

That hits him hard, square in the chest. And at first he doesn’t know why, but then he realizes…you’re the only person he has ever known to want that for him. He thinks back through all the people in his life; his mother wanted him to be a politician, his uncle wanted him to be a educator. His father was gone, and Snoke…well.

Snoke only found him useful to meet his own ends, and much like the rest of the world, cast him aside when he had had enough. Even the gentlemen with whom he had spent most of his time before that fateful night had hoped he would one day grow up like them.

Kylo cannot be angry with you now, he knows, not that he was ever really angry with you to begin with. How could he, when you are the only thing in the world who has never had any expectation of him, other for him to be himself?

“I spoke to you, night after night I spoke to you.” Kylo whispers into the dark, thinking of all the nights he had spent up on the bowsprit, above a masthead carved in your image, speaking to the wooden mermaid wishing wishing wishing instead he were speaking to you.

Your tail cuts through the water as you swim alongside him in the rowboat, and you whisper just as softly, “I heard you.”

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

The rest of the short journey is done in silence, mostly so that Kylo can prepare himself mentally for whatever awaits him. It looks sinister, a gaping maw protruding from the water, like a mouth with craggy and jagged teeth of rock. The light from your eyes shines into the opening of the cave, but it only shines so far before the dark of the dark swallows it whole.

“Do you see it? The cave?” You ask him softly, drawing his attention from his own thoughts to the massive structure before you both.

“Just up ahead, yes. It’s dark, but I can see it.” He answers, taking in a deep breath. He had never been particularly afraid of the dark, or of the unknown, but there is a distinct sinister energy that crackles through the air that Kylo can feel; it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“You must leave the boat behind now, do not be afraid, the water is warm, and I am here with you.” You assure him, offering him a hand that like moth to a flame, he is compelled to take.

He finds that the water is not deep here, he can wade through it and it only reaches his knees. You lay low, your free hand trailing along the soft sand as your tail swishes through the water, moving forward with him as he leaves the rowboat behind.

“You’re coming with me?” He frowns, unsure if he wants you in as much danger as you warn there may be.

But then again, he should know better than to question you in something like this, particularly when your eyes glow brighter and they shine across the sea, as you nod. Swimming beside him, neither in front nor behind him, you assert yourself as his equal in this regard, heading into the dark unknown together.

“As far as I can go, I am coming with you.” Your eyes glow, and he somehow, feels safe.

The water grows cold, the closer to the cave you and Kylo get. Kylo’s legs can feel the chill, can feel the change in the temperature. There is a humming from within, a rumbling sound that he cannot identify, and so in response, he trains his eye and his ear to be on high alert. The only other noises are the intermittent drip drip drips of water from the roof of the cave landing in the pools below – pools, because the deeper into the cave, the more shallow it becomes, until there is no more depth for you to stay submerged in.

Kylo looks at you, and you blink, the light from your eyes blipping momentarily. You turn your gaze towards the chasm before you, your eyes a lantern of their own for Kylo to see by. He doesn’t want to part from you, but he knows that when he returns, you will never have to part again.

“You must not dawdle, it must be fast.” You murmur softly, not looking at him, looking instead at the chasm, your voice taking on a strange quality that he cannot place. It sounds too familiar, like the way it had all garbled under the water when you saved him from drowning. The hair on the back of his neck does not go down. “Get in, grab the medallion – and only the medallion -- and get out.”

“Why?” He can’t help but ask, the pet-name slipping out of his mouth before he can think to ask if it’s alright, “Darling, what will I find in that cave?”

You still do not look at him, your gaze unwavering, unchanging. It is more unsettling than the rumbling, but Kylo doesn’t bring any attention to it. The medallion is in there, and you want it. You want it, and so Kylo will bring it to you.

“I do not know. Only, I have never seen anyone come back out, once they have gone inside.” You eventually say, quickly following up with, “You need not go, if you don’t think you are ready.”

There is no thought in his mind that Kylo would risk death for you, not know. In many ways, he has spent the last two decades living on borrowed time. In many ways, he has been a dead man walking for half of his life. If he were to die in this cave, it would be a death long overdue, Kylo knows.

“I have trained for twenty years to be ready. There is nothing more I could do to prepare me, if I fail now, I will have failed another twenty years ahead.” Kylo dismisses the idea of turning back now as quickly as you have offered it, pulling his sword out of its sheath which is strapped to his hip.

The metal glints from the light of your eyes, for they have finally turned to face him, the full effect of their glow making him feel as thought it were day, as if time had stood still in a moment of lightning.

“You are strong, you will not fail.” You speak with reassurance, and with those parting words, he steps out of the shallow water and onto the slippery rock floor of the cave, his descent into the chasm begun.

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

The deeper into the cave Kylo goes, the colder it becomes.

Soon he is out of the scope of your powerful eyes, and has nothing but the feeling of his fingers brushing against the cave wall to guide him. His eye does its best to adjust, and he curses himself internally, for maybe if he had both his pupils, he could see better in the pitch black. His footing is careful, the floor is slippery. Even though his boots are meant to withstand such slide, he still takes caution to not step somewhere which will twist his ankle, which will buckle his knee, which will make him fall to depths he cannot see.

His ears are trained still, and he halts at every moment in which he hears something that could be a threat, pausing just for a second or two to ensure that he need not his sword nor his fists to protect himself. Every time, he decides he is safe. He does not let his guard down, but Kylo moves through the cave with a bit more confidence; clearly if something were to kill him, or present itself as a challenge at least, it would have done so by now.

And what’s more – light, up ahead! A gap in the ceiling allows the moonlight to shine through, the clouds which have covered it having moved along on their path across the sea. Never before has Kylo felt so grateful for the moon in all his years, and as he steps into the light that it shines, his eye widens at the sight before him.

Gold, mountains of it. Piles taller than he stands, and oh does he stand tall. Glittering twinkling gold, but wait, no, not just gold, jewels too, diamonds and rubies and emeralds, pearls and strings of precious beads. It surrounds him, overwhelms him, blinds him with how brightly gold it shines. Where could it be, the medallion? Kylo tries to think, tries to strategize. It couldn’t be thrown in among the piles, no, whomever had stolen it from his precious mermaid would have known how important it is.

And so Kylo ignores the riches around him altogether, knowing that time is of the essence. He is careful to step around the piles, around and around them all, forcing himself to stay on task. The medallion, he is here for your medallion. He wishes he had asked for more of a detailed explanation, because he soon realizes that fuck, there are possibly a thousand medallions here.

Taking a moment, he sighs, turns in a circle, careful of his footing. It has to be somewhere obvious, he decides. Pirates are not that smart, and they certainly have a flair for the dramatics. Whomever stole it would want all to see it, would want all to know just how –

There! Up upon a pedestal made of rock, that must be it! A large circular disc of gold laced through a black chord rests propped up in direct line of the moonlight. It glows softly, ever so slightly, a golden pulsating light that draws Kylo towards it.

“There you are.” He whispers, his eye growing wide, filling with the golden light. There is a symbol, possibly writing in a language Kylo does not recognize, etched into it, that glows and glows and glows brighter as Kylo comes nearer.

He reaches a hand out but then quickly yanks it back. It could be a trap, what would he do if it is a trap? He chews at the inside of his cheek, hesitates for a moment. Looking up and all around for any signs of anything that could come crashing down, or shooting out at him from the sides, he waits.

Until he is certain that no such thing will happen, at which point he can wait no longer.

Holding his breath, his hand stretches up, fingers extended as far as they can go, for the rock pedestal is taller than he is even on his toes, and he does not exhale until he can feel the black cord nestled in his grip, and he pulls the medallion down.

…Nothing happens.

Suspicious, Kylo decides not to tempt fate. He has managed to escape death a second time, or at least, he will if he is able to return to you. Now that the medallion is in his hands, it glows so bright that the entire cave illuminates, and he can hear the faint echo of music, the very same music that has haunted his dreams. Your music, he realizes, and his heart beats knowing that he has done what you asked.

He is so pleased with himself, that as he climbs back down from the pedestal and passes through the piles and towers of gold and jewels, something catches the corner of his eye. A tiara, made entirely of gold and pearls, rests innocuously at his feet. It is carved into the shape of seashells, carved so well that if Kylo did not know of the wonders of goldsmiths, he would have assumed someone dipped the shells themselves in the soft metals.

“Well hello.” He bends down to inspect it, to get a closer look. Small golden chains with pearls beaded around it twinkle in the beam of light from the medallion.

The longer he stares at it, the more he notices; a tiny starfish here, a proud seahorse there, the mix of clam shells and snail shells, tusk shells and those spiraled ones which remind Kylo of the narwhals of the north – they are arranged so delicately, so carefully, that before Kylo can even think too much about it, he is reaching for it.

“You will look beautiful atop my darling’s head.” He is convinced of this, and he cannot see the harm in taking it, he is on his way out, he has obtained what he came for, there should be no issue here.

Oh, how wrong he is.

The moment his fingers touch the tiara, a sharp gust of wind bellows through the cave. It hurls towards him in a fury, in a rage, and even as he drops the tiara and lets it fall back onto the pile, it does not cease. The clouds return to cover the moon, or is it the ceiling of the cave itself is closing? He does not know, but he brandishes his sword in the low light, only the medallion’s incandescence giving him enough to see by.

The rushing wind draws the warmth from his bones, until he is chilled cold, frozen, fingers hurting as they clench around the hilt of his sword. He looks all around, ready to take on whatever may attack him, until the deep dark chuckle of his nightmares sounds around him, bounces against the walls in a way that Kylo cannot tell which direction to brace.

“Ickle Ben Solo, my how you’ve grown.” The voice muses, and Kylo freezes at the sound.

The impossible sound.

With clenched teeth, Kylo slowly turns, the hair on the back of his neck raising once more, the vein in his jaw throbbing with rage.

Captain Snoke, exactly as Kylo remembers him, stands in the middle of the cave. Face sunken in, long white beard, remorseless eyes squinting at him. The only difference from years ago and now, is that now, Kylo has grown taller, and when Snoke looks at him, he is forced to look up.

He knows this must be a trick of the cave, because all at once it hits him that the reason you conjured that storm was to kill him – him, the man with the white beard who snatched the medallion from your pretty neck. You had killed him, and yet here he is. Snoke is between Kylo and the exit, the just beyond where Kylo knows he will see the glow of your eyes once more.

This Snoke cannot be real, and so Kylo knows somewhere in the back of his mind that he could simply push his way past him and make way to you…but this is a chance Kylo will not pass up, and so with the medallion clutched in his hand he swings his saber and levels it directly at Snoke’s throat.

“Draw your sword.” The words snarl out of him in a grimace, as the rage of nearly three hundred fallen crew members sing through him.

At once, Snoke’s sword is conjured up out of thin air, and parrying Kylo’s away, shoving with a force much stronger than Kylo would have expected.

“I am but an old man, I cannae do nothin’ ta harm ye now.” Snoke taunts and teases, and Kylo spits at his feet, unable to hold back any longer.

“You lying cheating conniving bastard – I’ll kill you!” He lunges forward, poised to attack, his sword coming up to clang immediately and clash with Snoke’s.

It is regrettable, he thinks, that Snoke was the one who taught him how to fight, because the man can anticipate his moves. However, he only taught Kylo the basics, and in this regard, Kylo finds himself feeling lucky, feeling emboldened to push back harder, meaner, as he swings his sword, making sparks fly.

He manages to make a combination of moves which catch Snoke off-guard enough that he stumbles backwards, and this angers the old man, whose jaw clenches all his own.

“If it’s a fight yer after,” He sounds strange, his voice echoing throughout the cave as he backs away, “It’s a fight you’ll get.”

Kylo will not let him get away, not the way he had last time, not the way he had snuck out in the night when he knew no one could catch him. He immediately runs after Snoke, chases him down down down back the way he came, further and further from the entrance.

As he runs, he realizes that there are things moving around him, and he nearly trips as a hand encloses around his ankle.

Out from the piles of gold slither the bodies of men who had been trapped, ensnared by the cave, men who had died unpleasant, undignified deaths. Kylo cannot be bothered with them, he must get to Snoke – he will get to Snoke, so he slices his sword through the limbs of the men who have fallen, failed on a quest of their own. He hacks away at them without care, does not look back when they collapse and clutch at their bleeding wrists.

They swarm around him, and Kylo can do nothing but kill them as they come crawling out from the depths of the cave, scores of them moaning and groaning, dying all over again. Kylo kicks their teeth in, stabs them through the heart, shoves them away from him even as they claw and cling to him, tearing his clothes, ripping at his shirt and his breeches, trying to grab the sword out of his hand.

Their long blackened fingernails scratch at his flesh, and he has to resist the urge not to be sick with the decay he finds in their faces as he punches and hacks his way through them.

It is suffocating, but Kylo grabs at the medallion almost on accident, and he does not know how, but a pulse of light shocks out of it and knocks them all away. The golden pulse from the medallion, from the symbol which now has morphed and changed into something else entirely, is protecting him, and he does not waste the time it allows him.

Snoke’s laughter guides him, and Kylo chases until there is nowhere left to run. On a tall bridge of rock, Kylo and Snoke find themselves engaged in battle, meeting one another sword for sword, grunts and groans of effort spilling out of their lips.

“This is for Vicrul,” Kylo shouts, as he pushes forward, forces Snoke backwards. The old man’s eyes widen before he frowns, realizing the bridge is becoming more and more narrow, “And this is for Cardo!”

Snoke fights back, their swords locked, shooting sparks all around as they meet clash for clash. Snoke’s footwork is light, he is fast for a man of such age. He manages to slice Kylo’s arm, slicing straight through the fabric. Kylo bleeds, and that pain only eggs him on, a lesson he had learned many a year ago – the pain fueling his rage.

“For Trudgen, and Ushar!” Kylo’s voice is loud, grows louder and louder as the blood rushes down his forearm, staining his shirt and dripping around his clenched fist, staining the metal of his sword as they meet time and time again, as Kylo gains the advantage.

“Ben wait –" Snoke calls him by that name again, and Kylo can only growl loudly with the rage of it all, for how dare Kylo disrespect him now?

“For Kuruk and Ap’lek.” Kylo continues, before managing to fling Snoke’s sword away from his hand, managing to send it flying all the way down a deep trench, water rushing through the cave below them.

Kylo can hear it when it hits against the rocks a thousand feet away, and suddenly gets the strongest urge to hear that sound again, although with Snoke’s head instead of his sword. Like the coward he is, Snoke backs himself up as far as he can go, until he is teetering on the precipe of the edge, on the very last foothold he has.

Kylo lunges after him, letting out a shout of rage as he runs his old captain through with his sword, cutting out the bitter shriveled blackened heart. Kylo holds it in his hand, squeezes any possible remains of life left there and drops it.

Snoke’s eyes widen, almost in shock, for even in death he had not been so injured.

He does not bleed the way Kylo is, but that does not mean that he cannot hurt.

“And this, Captain,” Kylo’s face shakes with rage, as he grabs Snoke by the throat and hoists him high up off his feet, dangling his body right over the trench, “Is for me.”

Snoke opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it is is lost in the scream that spills from his lips as Kylo not only drops him, no not something so careless as that – he throws Snoke down the trench, the glow of the medallion giving Kylo the ability to watch him fall.

He is reminded then, of how it felt to sink to the bottom of the ocean thanks to his carelessness, his cowardice. He hopes that Snoke receives no such mercy, as the one you had shown him that day.

You! He must get back to you, he must –

There is another rumble, from beyond the cave. Kylo startles, as the bridge beneath him begins to shake, and he realizes that the bridge is beginning to collapse.

No, not just the bridge, but the entire cave.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Kylo runs, his boots carrying him as fast as he can go, the medallion glowing and pulsating, music guiding him through the dark, slipping and skidding on the wet rock, Kylo runs. He is chased by large rocks which fall from the ceiling, falling onto his head and only just barely missing. If one were to pin him down, it would surely kill him.

He doesn’t realize how deep into the cave he had gone, until he can finally see the white light of your eyes, and your scream for him to hurry, after what feels like an age of running, his limbs burning, legs and lungs sore from the speed of it all.

“Kylo!” You rejoice, joy thrilling through your body as you reach for him, arms extended and a great big grin on your face.

“I did it, darling my darling I did it!” Kylo shouts at you from the mouth of the cave, outrunning its demise, outrunning his death once more.

“My handsome man, I knew you could do it, I knew you could!” You reach reach reach for his hands, and the second he grabs you, you yank him to your chest and your powerful tail propels you forward faster than his legs could ever run, as you carry him to safety once again, laughing all the while, “I knew you could!”

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

When at last before my ghostly shipmates I stand

I shed a small tear for my home upon land

Though their eyes speak of depths filled with struggle and strife

Their smiles below say I don't owe them my life

As the souls of the dead fill the space of my eyes

And my boat listed over and tried to capsize

I'm this far from drowning, this far from the sea,

I remember the living do they think of me,

When my bones in the ocean forever will be

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

The rowboat reaches the side of the ship, and it rocks for a moment as you hoist yourself inside of it. Your body takes up much of the space, or rather, your tail does, and Kylo cannot stop looking looking looking at you, the thrill of victory, of success, coursing through his veins. There is just one problem – he cannot lift the rowboat from down here.

Thankfully, a lantern sticks over the side of the ship, followed soon thereafter by an inquiring head, belonging to Kylo’s First Mate. He is conflicted at once – he wants to revel in the satisfaction of being correct all these years, but he wants to protect you more, and he is unsure of what Victoria will do now that you are so close.

“You are real!” Victoria says in a loud-whisper, smacking a hand over her mouth for a moment or two.

You wave up to her, a knowing smile on your face, and Kylo’s cheek burn. He is embarrassed, because now you know he has told everyone of importance about you, that he has bragged about you, that he has sang your praises. Giving his hand a tight squeeze, your fin slaps against the rowboat, and that is signal enough that Victoria needs, to send down the ropes.

Once the rowboat is hitched and lifted up out of the water, you slip the medallion around your neck, and immediately it glows a bright gold, brighter even than the white of your eyes, which now fade to the beautiful natural color of your irises.

Kylo is still unsure though, still not certain how this will help you, even as the medallion glows and glows.

“What does it do -- ?” Victoria has the same thoughts as Kylo, the same questions, but both of their thoughts are interrupted by the golden light which glows larger and larger, encompasses your body.

You rise up into the air, and Kylo is hesitant to let go. He knows he must, so he does, and instantly regrets not being able to hold your palm against his own. He steps onto the deck of the boat where it is sturdy and safe, and watches as some otherworldly magic you wield spins around your tail.

Suddenly, there is a great flash of light, and your fin begins to morph and split into two legs, two human legs; thighs and knees and calves and ankles and even feet and toes. Kylo cannot believe it, Victoria blinks and has to shield her eyes from the brightness of it all, but it is not long after that the glow fades, and you are gently lowered by your magic onto the deck.

Kylo’s arms are there for you at once, your naked body bracing itself in his embrace. Although there is no one on the deck who is awake aside from the three of you, he still wishes to shield your body from sight, a protective possessive simmer bubbling up in his chest. It also does not help that it has been a long time since you stood upon human legs, and he does not want to risk you falling, not now, not ever. He will never let harm come to you again, not as commander of the seas.

“Incredible,” He whispers, kissing your face, holding you tight while you get your footing, “You’re beautiful.”

“You keep saying that.” You laugh, your hair spilling over one shoulder as your arms loop around Kylo’s neck. You smile at him so radiantly, that it could have been high noon for all Kylo knew.

“It is the truth, I will continue to say it until the day I die.” He leans in to kiss you once more.

When his mouth opens for yours and he begins to hum against your tongue, Victoria clears her throat rather loudly, and scratches the side of her face awkwardly. You break apart only enough for him to shoot her a harsh glare for ruining the moment, but Victoria only rolls her eyes.

“Show her your cabin, Captain.” She says with no hint of subtlety, “I daresay she will be eager to see it.”

Kylo looks at you, and your pupils grow wide wide wide in the dark, and he knows you are eager indeed.

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

Kylo has never given much thought to his quarters, not until this very moment. Of course he knew what he had and he knew the degree to which his nice things were nice, but he never had wondered what you might think of them – or if they would be of any consequence to you at all.

It was a long room right at the very port of the Silencer, a vast open area split off into smaller sections by way of furniture arrangement. The floors were all covered with handwoven Persian rugs, the windows draped with fine linens. Up against the windows at the far back of the room was his large mahogany work table and chairs with plush velvet cushions, where he held meeting with the higher members of the crew. Along the wall were various chests and bureaus which housed his clothing, all carved with intricate designs and all having brass handles and clasps. Towards the front was his bathing area, a grand tub and all sorts of implements to improve his hygiene – he abhorred the idea that a pirate need be a filthy man.

And finally, off to the other wall, sat a grand canopy bed, with curtains which could be pulled shut to prevent any light from seeping through, should he want to sleep in on one particular morning or another. The bed frame was gold, inlaid with jewels, carved and decorated to tell the tale of a mermaid saving a young boy.

He waits for you to make the first move. He wants you, desperately, terribly, but he will not push, will not do anything which you do not explicitly ask for. He does not want to pressure you in any way. He has waited for you for twenty years, he could wait longer if you asked – as long as you are here, he doesn’t care.

But he doesn’t have to wait, for you have already laid yourself down in his bed, your arms spread out as your legs rub against the soft blankets, one finger beckoning him to join you. It does not take anything more for him to shed his clothes and do just that.

Kylo’s skin is still slightly wet from the cave, but if there is a chill that washes over him from being so exposed, he doesn’t pay it any attention. You are watching him curiously, your eyes trailing up and down his body as he steps towards you, climbs his way up the bed.

Immediately, your arms open for him, and he settles himself above you, kisses at the warmth of your throat as your hands find their way into his hair.

“Do you prefer me this way?” You muse playfully, rubbing your foot against the back of his calf, making him shiver shudder gasp with anticipation, continuing, “With legs, like you have?”

Kylo continues to kiss your neck, to worry his lips along the muscles there, grazing the gold-capped edges of his teeth up and down, making you shudder in return. He cannot describe the thrill that fills him with, knowing he affects you so.

“I prefer you either way, although I will admit, there is so much we can do like this.” He whispers, finding some way to broach the subject, the subject of his desire, his lust for you. God he wants to fuck you, wants it so badly that one of his hands wanders down to your lower stomach, asking with a silent hesitation for permission.

You grin and nod, and Kylo sucks in a breath, lets his fingers dip down lower, until they are brushing through the hair that has replaced your scales, pushing between your folds, your legs falling open and welcoming him. At once, you hum out a longing moan, a sound that Kylo has to chase, simply has to. He crooks two inside your pussy, revels slowly, softly, in the way that your body reacts.

“Aye, now the question becomes, do you have the stamina to do everything I want?” You chuckle as his lips part from the sensation of how wet you are, wet in every sense of the word. Kylo has large hands and thick fingers, but somehow your cunt takes him with ease, welcomes him and sucks him deeper.

Pulling back ever so slightly, Kylo looks up at you, his fingers busying themselves with working you open, pushing and rubbing through your folds, your pussy dripping around his knuckles. It makes his mouth water, makes him have to swallow hard, especially when your pupils darken and grow wide with lust of your own.

“You’ve – you mean to say you have experience?” He doesn’t know why this shocks him, Kylo certainly was no virgin.

“I’m nine hundred years old, I daresay I have more experience than everyone on your ship, O Captain.” You laugh, and something about the laughter bubbles anger inside him, makes his face harden.

He knows he’s a hypocrite, he knows. He’s fucked women all over the world, taken his pleasures from helping hands on more than one occasion. He knows that you must have done the same, so why does he get so possessive? Why does he get so immediately blood-thirsty? He has to fight the desire to rip heads off of necks, to hunt down those who did not deserve you – hell he almost stops fingering you from the sheer rage that stings the back of his throat like bile.

“Ohh does that make you jealous? That others have had a taste of me?” You notice, cupping his cheeks and kissing him sweetly, legs curling around his waist, voice deceptively calm as you whisper into his mouth, “Don’t be, you should know I killed them all right after.”

That makes his cock twitch, appeals to the primal side of his brain which had already begun to plot. You simply grin, turned on further by the way he is so ready to kill for you.

“Good.” He very nearly snarls, thrusting another finger to join the two that have already found comfort in your pussy, deciding that he would show you just how much better he could make you feel, than all those others combined.

With three fingers in, and his thumb on your clit, Kylo kisses you passionately, swallows down the mewls of pleasure and little hiccuped gasps that he elicits from your throat. His eyes are pinched shut because you are too beautiful, it hurts him to look into your gaze the same way that he has always been warned not to stare into the sun. But he doesn’t need his eye to see you when he can feel the way your body undulates and rocks underneath him, the pulsating warmth of your flesh sending goosebumps of pleasure rippling down his spine.

When he’s decided that you’re good and ready, when you’re stretched out enough to accommodate him, he sucks those fingers into his mouth to chance the taste of you. It is beyond that which Kylo could have ever dreamed, and spit strings off his rings when he hoists your leg up enough to properly thrust his cock through those warm plush folds.

“Fuck,” Kylo grunts unexpectedly, as the angle allows him to shove his way through with ease, the fingering having relaxed you enough to take him. But only just enough, it would seem, for despite the attention, you still are tight, and Kylo is sure that he could die like this and die a happy man.

Kylo’s body sings at the contact, at the vice-like hold your cunt has on his thick throbbing cock, and he pushes it deeper deeper deeper still inside you, not stopping until he bottoms out completely, not stopping until he has stuffed you full of his hot hard length, not stopping until your mouth drops open with surprise.

Smirking, Kylo positions himself in a way that he can support his weight and pull back, hips pistoning hard and fast all at once, making the bed creak louder than the rocking ship. He has decided he will never fuck again, if he cannot fuck you – he is ruined for anyone else, ruined in the way you push your pelvis up to meet him thrust for thrust, giving him as good as you get.

“Kylo – oh yes, yes! Take me, give me everything Kylo, give it to me.” You gasp, one of your hands digging into the scarred meat of his back, the flexing muscle of his shoulders moving under your palm.

The praise makes him moan, a deep rumbling purr in his chest that you exploit, a litany of yesyesKyloyou’resogoodgoodgood dropping from your lips, spurring him on, making his pride and cock throb, his hips rolling against yours, balls smacking harsh on your flesh as he clamps his teeth down onto your shoulder.

“Stars above, oh God – you’re beautiful, so beautiful.” He chants, feeling and savoring the way his cock spears through the tight wet velvet heat of your pussy, better than anything he has ever felt, clenching around him perfectly, fluttering and pulsing against his engorged veins and swollen head.

Your back arches underneath him, pushing your breasts with perked swollen nipples right into his face as he bends himself down to meet them, desperate to latch his tongue to your chest and suck. You moan moan moan, and he does not hold back the grunts of his own, the low noises from the back of his throat that muffle against your flesh as he suckles and licks the salty sweat off your skin, cock never once breaking in its rhythm.

“Fuck, fuck that’s good.” You pant, your body bouncing on the mattress, letting yourself go, letting yourself be moved this way and that for Kylo to pleasure you as he sees fit. Your eyes roll back into your head, your teeth bite at your lower lip, and Kylo can hear the way your pulse flutters from his spot on your breast.

“You like my cock?” He laves his tongue over your nipples one at a time, pinches at them with his lips, eager and ecstatic that he is making you feel this way.

“Yes!” You sigh loudly, no regard whatsoever for his crew – he doesn’t care either, in fact your volume makes him grow bold, grow demanding.

“Tell me how much.” He orders, shifting your positions so that he can take one of your legs and stretch it up up up over his shoulder, ankle resting near his ear, fucking into you hard and fast, so fast that his own voice shakes, “I want to hear you say it, say how much you like getting fucked by my big cock.”

You laugh, not at him but in sheer simple bliss, arms thrown over your head, hands tangling in the sheets. The moonlight shines on your body as he fucks into you, listens to the squelch of your cunt as it drips and drools on his cock, your tongue doing its best to stay in your mouth as you take the pounding he gives you.

“Kylo! It’s so big, I – oh fuck, oh! I’m so full!” You moan and whine, voice high and loud and music to his ears, as you hiccup and giggle out of your mind, especially when his thumb falls on your swollen clit, begging for attention.

The dark curling possessive feeling floods through him then, wanting you like this all the time, wanting you happy and pleased, wanting to be the man which gives it to you. The medallion practically smacks against your chest, and he grabs a hold of it in his hand so that your pretty skin won’t be marked by bruises that he does not give you.

“I’ll fill you up, fill you right to the fucking brim,” Kylo growls -- seethes, “I’ll knock you up and pamper you and make you come every day, coming on my cock and fingers and tongue – ”

It is then that he stops entirely, his hips halting at once, brain tripping up over his own words. You give him a whine and a light smack to his shoulder, protesting that he has stopped, especially when he pulls out. Before you can question him verbally though, he’s shuffling down the bed as fast as he can, pulling your folds apart with his golden clad thumbs and burying his face in place of his cock, his tongue stroking and sucking and thrusting through you.

“Oh!” You gasp happily, pleased with this attention, and Kylo’s arms wind underneath your thighs, your knees squeezing the sides of his head as he eats you out.

Kylo eats your pussy like a starving man confronted with his first meal – he is sloppy, he is aggressive, he is desperate. His nose prods up against your clit and rubs and bumps as he sucks you down, as he swallows the slick that pools on his tongue. You taste like the ocean but also like something otherworldly, and Kylo thinks that this is already replacing his most favorite of rums, the wine of your body far more addicting.

Keening each time you yank on his hair, Kylo kisses and makes out with your pussy, tears welling up in his eyes from the sheer overstimulation of his scalp and his cock, which ruts against the sheets. The laundry boys will kill him, he just had the sheets washed not two days ago, but he doesn’t care.

A grosser part of him thinks he will never have his sheets washed again, but as he drinks down your slick and moans and pants into your pussy, he thinks no, he wants nothing but the cleanest bed for you to be fucked on. You deserve nothing but the best, and his hands clench into fists as he groans out the sheer desire to give it to you.

In the back of his head, Kylo knows that this cannot last forever, and a sharp pang of sorrow hits his heart, because he cannot think of anything more important than this – eating, drinking, sleeping, no, nothing compares to the way you sob on his tongue, sob with pleasure that has been denied to you for so long.

His brain cannot make up its mind, whether he wants to bury his face as far between your legs as it can go, or his cock, and he wishes there were some way he could fuck you and taste you at the same time.

“Kylo, I’m going to come.” You warn with a shuddering moan, and that makes up his mind for him, for he wants to come alongside you, wants to come inside you, together.

So, regretfully he pulls away from your pretty pussy and gives your clit one last kiss, and pushes the head of his cock back into you, resuming the thrusting pace he had built, feeling how his cock has to work hard to shove itself into you, your cunt tight tight tight.

“Will – can – where -- ?” He feels like a fool for the loss of his words, but you, even blissed out the way that you are, you understand what he’s trying to ask.

“Come in me, handsome, fill me up like you promised.” You order, and though he has proven himself to be stronger than any man alive, he is weak for the tone of your voice.

That heating warming desperate coil of pleasure winds winds winds up in his stomach, until it is shooting out of his cock in throbbing pulsing ropes of hot come, spreading through your cunt, dumping his load as your body comes and shudders and shakes around him, your thighs trembling, toes curling, back arching clean off the mattress. He pants and gasps for breath as he curses long and low in his chest, pumping the last few thrusts of his hips against yours until his arms give out and he collapses down on top of you.

The medallion glows gold, sends a pulse of light across the ocean – you are grinning so wide and so beautifully that Kylo knows whatever has just happened between the two of you, is only the beginning.

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

Now that I'm staring down at the darkest abyss

I'm not sure what I want but I don't think it's this

As my comrades call to stand fast and forge on

I make sail for the dawn 'til the darkness has gone

As the souls of the dead live for'er in my mind

As I live all the years that they left me behind

I'll stay on the shore but still gaze at the sea

I remember the fallen and they think of me

For our souls in the ocean together will be

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

The sweat cools on the both of your bodies for a long while, and still, somehow, Kylo feels like he is in a dream.

The Silencer creaks and groans gently in the night as he traces patterns across your back, little looping nothings that have you humming softly. Your legs are twined through his, braided like the rope which hoists his sails, and he wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating, even in the calm. You must, you have to be, for you are tucked up against his broad chest, your cheek nestled into one of his pecs, your arm curled around his thick waist.

What he wouldn’t give to have both eyes again, to be able to see you the way he wishes he could.

It is surreal to think that you are here, after so long. After twenty years of the world thinking him crazy, not only has he proved them all wrong, but he has proven himself to you. You wear the medallion around your neck, the very same medallion which was stolen from you so long ago, by the very captain that once tried to steal Kylo’s life.

Now he was gone, and you are here, and he has just fucked you through nearly to sunrise, and he thinks if he had but a small glass of something to drink, he could have the strength to fuck you some more.

“I have never felt more complete, than I do in this moment.” He confesses, looks down at you. You meet his gaze, and your irises grow huge in the low light. He leans in to kiss your forehead, his hand rubbing your back up and down, “I cannot believe at long last I have found you.”

You sigh happily, so happily in fact, that the scales on your hip begin to shimmer and glow, and Kylo thinks he would kill Snoke a thousand times over, if it meant he could have you so calm, so at ease.

“I thought about you all the while, heard stories about you across the deep. I am so proud of the man, the terror you have become, my Kylo, handsome Kylo.” You whisper, kissing the spot underneath his chin, where his scar drags across his throat.

Suddenly, he grows panicked, his arms tighten around your body, because he does not know the extent to your visit, he does not know if you only are granting him this one night. He holds you tightly and you hum with a question in your tone, making Kylo’s cheeks grow red hot with embarrassment and shame.

“You cannot go again, you cannot leave me. Please don’t – I’ll do anything, anything to stay together.” He clings to you, like the boy he once was, drowning and dying alone out at sea, the very sea which he now commands, which he now holds in an iron grip.

“’Anything’ is a dangerous word to be said to a mermaid.” You tease him the very same way you had teased him then, but this time Kylo knows what he’s asking for, and oh how he has waited so long to ask it.

“I meant it before, and I mean it now, I will not be apart from you again.” There is that deep baritone that has sent fear into the hearts of a thousand ships, and you grin at the sound of it, pulling your bodies flush together.

“You won’t have to, handsome.” Licking your lips, you allow him to tilt your chin up.

“Let me kiss you?” He asks, and he asks it so sweetly that you don’t even have the time to answer, you’re already nuzzling your nose against his, already rubbing at his lips with yours.

The kiss, much like the ones from seemingly an eon ago – or was it only a few hours? – begins as a chaste nothing and works its way into being something passionate, something heated. It is in this kiss, that Kylo knows now wherever you go, so too he will follow, even if that’s to the very edge of the Earth, down to the very pits of the deep.

As he closes his eyes and kisses you once more, his hands cradle your head and holds you tight to his body. He worries you’ll burst into seafoam or stars, worries that now that he isn’t looking at you, you’ll disappear. His pulse jumps because of it, pounds in his throat so strongly that he thinks he might be ill – but you’re here still, he knows it, he feels the press of your lips against his own.

Kylo opens his mouth, and you slip your tongue through, making him melt and groan deep in the back of his throat, his hands clutching at your naked body, your scales shimmering in the moonlight that pours in through his cabin window. This medallion, the one which has granted you your legs once again, glows golden. He can see the burn of the symbol behind his eyelid, as you push yourself to straddle his waist, to pin him down to the mattress.

“Fuck!” He feels the white hot brand of the medallion then suddenly, and his shouts of pain are swallowed down your throat, you shush and soothe him with your otherworldly touch, even as something hot hot hot courses through his veins.

You have done something to him, something that he doesn’t know, doesn’t dare to ask. He trusts you, wholly and completely he trusts you – you have never given him reason to doubt, so he doesn’t, not even now.

You kiss and kiss and kiss and he doesn’t realize the ship is sinking, doesn’t realize that twenty foot waves have spilled over the side of the Silencer. He doesn’t hear the alarm bells or the shouts of his crew, he doesn’t care about anything else besides you. No, he sucks the air from your breath until there’s salt water in his lungs, but he doesn’t choke, he doesn’t splutter, he lets himself be pulled down down down, your hands in his hair, his arms around your waist as your legs disappear.

There is music then, music all around, inside his body and out, and he wonders if this is the ballad of the sea, of the souls you have claimed, the souls he has stolen at the hand of his sword. Kylo can feel them, their presence, in the in-between, calling and reaching out to him in a tearful melody, but knows he will not be joining them. Kuruk, Ushar, Ap’lek and Trudgen, Cardo and Vicrul’s faces all ghostly images of their younger selves, so young and fit that Kylo nearly doesn’t recognize them.

He regards them with a mournful eye but they shake their heads, not a single one of them angry. They don’t want him to join, Kylo realizes, they don’t feel betrayed that Kylo has lived while they have died. He makes them a promise, sends out the thought through the sea, that he’ll live out the years they had stolen as best as he can, and this is enough for them to stop haunting his dreams. To the tune of the music they dance and sing off into the ether, freed from the shackles of the in-between, finally free once more.

And then he realizes the music is coming from you, a siren song that fills his ears and his eyes and his very heart, it is the most beautiful thing he has ever heard, and he is filled with an euphoria unlike that he had ever known, because he realizes he gets to listen to it forever. Kylo had once asked if you were an angel, and you had said no – now he knows better, he knows what you are; you are heaven herself.

“We’ll be together forever like this.” He hears you say, your voice distorted and watery as your teeth grow sharp, as your hair grows long, flows about your head in a death defying halo. “Not a single man alive could harm you now. You’ll remain like this forever, just as you are, with me by your side.”

Kylo should be afraid, he knows this, he knows he should – but how can he be when you’re holding his hands and kissing his palms? How can he be when he opens his eyes and he finally breathes, a sucking sharp gasp of the ocean that fills him up?

He cannot explain it, but he is transformed into something, something otherworldly just the same way that you are. He looks the same, but he can feel it inside his body and inside his mind, as the medallion glows and so too does the brand on his chest, marked forever by a mermaid’s kiss.

But instead of that kiss sending him to the Locker or a watery grave, he keeps his lungs open and he remains unafraid, as you smile with too many teeth in your mouth, you laugh and you cheer and you sing so very loud. And when he blinks he sees you crystal clear through both of his eyes, you grasp for his hands and he knows now he can’t die, his ship sails under the water manned by his crew, who too look completely unchanged.

You swim above the ship and perch yourself atop the masthead, the breaking light of dawn shines down through the waves, making the watery world feel like an elixir of life, of immortal dreams come true. Kylo chases you, with strong limbs he climbs up up up the rigging of the ship to join you, and as he climbs, so too does the ship rise, until the Silencer breaks through the surface once more.

The crew rejoices, they dance in circles around the bilge pump and throw their hats in the air, the sunrise golden and beautiful as your fin smacks happily against the wood of the ship, laughter at the antics on deck. Kylo sets you in his lap there high above the water’s edge, and seagulls fly and call from the disturbance of the ship ascending from the depths.

“I love you.” He says it, says the words that he has been practicing inside his mind for decades, the words he has rehearsed in front of the mirror. He never thought he would have a chance to say them to you out loud. “I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you.”

It hits him then, the realization that Kylo will be able to say them to you forever.

“Why do you think I rescued you?” You beam at him, and he laughs, elated, that his feelings are returned.

Looping your arms around his neck, you kiss Kylo, salty and briny and bright. Kylo holds you in his lap tightly so that you don’t fall, one of his hands on your cheek, adoring, caressing. He leans his forehead against yours, and the medallion glows, and when he meets your grin it’s with a smile of his own, because he has given you his soul fathoms below.

I remember the fallen and they think of me,

For our souls in the ocean together will be.

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

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inkformyblood · 3 years

Text

we should have a land of joy

Day 02: AU (Modern Setting & Farm/Ranch)

Obi-Wan arrives at his grandfather's old farm, half-lost in grief and with his two new wards, unsure of what he is going to do. Luckily, his strangely familiar neighbour has a plan and offers to help, which Obi-Wan accepts.

Pairing: Codywan, Obi-Wan & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Cody Fett & Boba Fett

@codywanweek

Obi-Wan hefted the cardboard box up further in his slipping grip, wincing at the ominous rattle from inside. The edge pressed into his stomach for a moment before he shifted it to rest against the jut of his hip. His arms ached, muscles he had forgotten about since his university days protesting at the sudden exertion, but he ignored them, staggering forward the last few steps to set it down amongst the others.

Pressing his hand against the small of his back, Obi-Wan leant backwards with a groan, hearing the bones shift and pop. His gaze landed on a spiderweb strung high in the corner of the room, illuminated by the weak sunlight that managed to break through the thin film of grime on the windows.

This wasn’t the house he remembered from his childhood, the memories worn and fragmented, but it was his now. His heart shuddered as the now-familiar wave of grief crashed over him, tears biting at the corners of his eyes and a scream bubbling up his throat. It was all he could do to let the feeling wash over him, turning to look around the room through the film of tears rather than let himself drown.

The farmhouse was in better condition than he had expected, given how long it had been since any had lived there. Echoes of his grandfather’s presence were clear from the dusty row of wine bottles tucked into one of the kitchen cupboards to the well-preserved furniture, all made from the same stained wood and protected from the dust by large sheets. All of the sheets contained the same motif — a long thin arrow with a barbed tail picked out in a vibrant orange — and something about it scratched at the edge of Obi-Wan’s memory.

Whenever he tried to remember more, the only thing that rose to the surface was the sensation of walking through a cornfield, a hand clasped in his as a boy walked in time with him and he knew that he never wanted to let go.

Footsteps echoed from the floor above, snatches of laughter and Obi-Wan tipped his head back to track their progress. Anakin and Ahsoka had disappeared up the folded down stairs nearly twenty minutes ago, just enough time for their curiosity about the house to be satiated and their attention to turn to the overgrown field in front and the buildings that lay beyond.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin’s steps were deliberate, a pause between each one as he waited for Ahsoka to step down. They made a strange picture with Anakin towering over the vibrantly dressed Ahsoka as they climbed backwards down the ladder. “Can we go outside?”

“Outside!” Ahsoka echoed, pausing in her climb to clap. She wavered on the final step and Obi-Wan managed to take half a step towards her, panic sparking through his chest, but she steadied herself, hands pressed against the pale wood of the ladder as she took the final step down. “We’re gonna find sheep!”

Obi-Wan bit his tongue from the reflexive denial that bubbled up, trying to keep the toddler’s hopes from being crushed. While Anakin had had the luxury of headphones, he had participated in countless renditions of Old McDonald on the drive down until the melody felt like it was boring a hole in his skull.

“Make sure you stay together.”

Ahsoka clapped her hands together once more and wrapped her arms around Anakin’s waist before she untangled herself to throw herself at Obi-Wan. She was warm and slightly sticky, the clean floral scent of her favourite perfume clinging to her braids as if she had dipped them in it. “Love you, Obi! Gonna find the sheep for you.”

Obi-Wan forced a smile, lightly bumping her nose with his before he set back on her feet. Anakin waved to him, rocking on his feet and Obi-Wan’s smile shifted into something genuine at the boy’s attempt to seem so grownup.

“Be good,” he warned before forcing his voice to be softer, lighter as he caught the flicker of hurt on Anakin’s face, his bottom lip beginning to jut out. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Anakin muttered, scuffing his shoe along the pale wood and Obi-Wan’s grin widened, recollection burning through him of standing in the same spot, the world too large around him and yet confident of his place in it.

He turned away, bowing his head to pick at the peeling tape at the edge of the cardboard box. It came away slowly, the rasp setting his teeth on edge as it clung to his hands. As he pried it open, he stepped back, surprise passing through him like a lightning bolt.

Qui-Gon’s face, his mouth curled into the same serene smile Obi-Wan could remember so clearly, stared back at him. He had forgotten the way his shoulders had stooped, every edge rounded, yet it didn’t distract from the spark of mischief in his eye. The remembered scent of honeysuckle filled his lungs, warm and spiced like the tea they had been drinking. It had been taken shortly before Obi-Wan had signed the paperwork to be named as Anakin and Ahsoka’s emergency guardian by a student photographer, and he ran his finger along the frame, removing the scraps of paper that had clung to it during the move.

Turning, he glanced around the room, finally settling on the engraved mantlepiece above the blackened fireplace and placed the photo there, adjusting it slightly so the sun wouldn’t reflect across the glass and age it.

“We’re back here again,” Obi-Wan murmured. He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly and forcing his heart rate to settle. The future lay before him, uncertain and fragile, and he had never been so terrified in his life. “I wish you were here. I wish you could tell me that everything would be okay in that infuriatingly cryptic way.”

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until muted shapes burst like lightning and the rising tide of grief subsided. “I’d just like a sign I haven’t thrown everything away.”

A crash and screams from outside answered his call, and Obi-Wan was running, fear spiking through him. A distant part of him knew if they both screaming, they were both still alive, still breathing, but the noise only reminded him of the shriek of the hospital monitor—

“What is going on here?”

Three pairs of eyes snapped to him, and three children exploded into incoherent yells, their hands waving in the air. Anakin and Ahsoka stood along one side of the small storage shed, and a young boy who looked to be a similar age to Anakin stood along the other, a small toolbox clutched in one white-knuckled hand.

“Anakin, Ahsoka, enough.”

Anakin’s jaw snapped closed, but his face transformed into a murderous scowl, his brow furrowed and his arms folded across his chest.

Obi-Wan turned to the boy, taking in the defiant jut of his chin and the way his gaze wandered back to Ahsoka, the girl half-hidden behind Anakin’s leg. He couldn’t say why, but he had a feeling that the boy was the youngest in his family.

“What’s your name?”

“Boba,” the boy started before a clear whistle cut through the air, his head snapping up and peering into the field just visible behind Obi-Wan. “And that’s Cody.”

Obi-Wan stepped back, and Boba took the opening, darting past Obi-Wan with ease, his toolbox skimming past the taller man’s knees.

“Obi-Wan! Why did you let him go?” Anakin’s voice rose and cracked, and Obi-Wan blindly reached out for the boy as he watched Boba disappear into the weeds. He could feel the heat radiating from Anakin’s flushed cheeks, carding his hand through his dark hair and tugging apart a knot he found there.

“I believe—“ Obi-Wan tipped his head back, frowning against the glare of the sun as he watched someone push their way through the weeds. “I believe we’re about to meet our neighbours.”

The man who stepped into view was nothing short of beautiful. His face was mostly cast in shadow due to the leather cowboy he wore, but Obi-Wan could make out the edge of a smile, aiming for reproachful but fighting against amusement. He moved with ease, a relaxed confidence in his step, and Obi-Wan found himself moving closer like a moth drawn to a flame. His clothes were worn-in — a dark blue checkered shirt and grey jeans — and clung to the broad curve of his shoulders and bared the hollow of his throat.

“I’d wanted to welcome you to the village properly.” The man paused to laugh, a rumbling chuckle that sounded as sweet as honey. He tipped his head back to look at Obi-Wan properly revealing dark brown eyes and the pale curved scar on his left temple. He was studying Obi-Wan just as intently as he was, his gaze passing over the frayed edges of his jumper, the mud splattered on his neatly pressed trousers and Obi-Wan shifted beneath the pressure of it.

It wasn’t the same as the sterile meetings he was used to — cold impersonal nods from across a room, a growing sense of recognition at a stranger’s face — this was something new and terrifying and exhilarating.

“I’m Cody Fett. I believe you’ve met Boba.”

He held out his hand, and Obi-Wan took it, feeling the roughness of his calluses and the calm strength behind it. This close, he could see flecks of gold in Cody’s eyes, like scattered straw.

“Obi-Wan.” Cody’s eyes widened a fraction, new understanding dawning on his face. “And that is—“ Obi-Wan turned, waving his hand towards Anakin and Ahsoka, still huddled in the doorway, their eyes wide, “Anakin and Ahsoka.”

He turned back to see that Cody’s gaze had never strayed from his face, an unreadable emotion flickering past before it was tucked behind warm friendliness.

“Dooku would have been your grandfather?” Cody waited for Obi-Wan to nod before he continued. “He had an agreement with my father about us looking after the place while he wasn’t here. Just so you there’s no wires getting crossed with us being here.” His grin widened, but there was steel in his words and Boba pressed into his legs, one hand stretched up to tug on the edge of his shirt.

Without looking, Cody smoothed his free hand over Boba’s head in a motion so familiar it sent a pang through Obi-Wan’s chest and he was still holding Cody’s hand.

He let go, missing the contact the moment their hands parted, a fresh furious blush burning through his cheeks. “An agreement? Oh.”

Cold certainty settled over him and he felt the spike of pain behind his eyes resurface. In the grey-tinged confusion following Qui-Gon’s death, he had worked on auto-pilot to get the man’s affairs in order, including cancelling outgoing payments, one of which was simply labelled as ‘Fett’.

“I’m sorry. I’ll work out how much you’re owed and sort it out. You have my word.”

“It’s no trouble—“ Cody began, but Obi-Wan cut him off with ease.

“You’ve done good work here, and you should be compensated for it. I am glad to see that my grandfather’s farm didn’t fall into ruin while it’s been unoccupied.”

“I’m sensing that finance might be your battleground of choice.” There was no cruelty in Cody’s words, presenting the insight as if it was obvious. “Why turn to farming?”

His gaze locked onto Obi-Wan’s and he couldn’t guess what the other man read on his face, only that he understood.

“Boba?” Cody pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth, speaking around the leather as he worked a golden ring off of his thumb. “Fancy showing our new neighbours around the village proper? Get yourselves something nice at the bakery.”

Cody paused, hooking his hand into the back of Boba’s collar as the boy began to step forward. “Buirkanir par ad'ika.”

Boba nodded, holding out his hands for Cody to drop the ring into and looked up at Obi-Wan expectantly. Cody mirrored him, tipping his head to one side and tucking his glove into his pocket. “My treat. A better welcome to the village.”

Obi-Wan bit his lower lip as he thought, glancing over his shoulder at the pair. Ahsoka’s demeanor had changed in an instant, leaning forward and using Anakin’s arm to stop her from falling, and Anakin wrinkled his nose but nodded at Obi-Wan’s questioning glance. He would complain later but, hopefully, the prospect of new places to explore would mollify him.

“I’d appreciate that. I’ll just grab my wallet and—”

“My treat.” Cody tapped Boba on the shoulder and the boy was off, dropping the toolbox and making his way past Obi-Wan to the doorway expectantly. Obi-Wan watched him tuck the ring onto his thumb — the metal oversized and starting to slip before he curled his hand into a fist — and waved a cautious hand at them, before turning and starting to walk towards the small track that led back towards the village. Ahsoka followed him, tugging Anakin along in her wake.

“The ring?” Obi-Wan turned back towards Cody just in time to see him tug off his other glove, the action rough but captivating, his gaze dropping towards every inch of skin that was revealed.

“Boba can add whatever they get onto my tab and I’ll pay it when I’m next in town. You’ve not had the pleasure—” Cody’s grin widened and his gaze darted off to one side before returning to Obi-Wan. “—of meeting my family yet but we’re quite large. This makes things easier for everyone.”

“I appreciate it, more than I could ever say. It’s been— It’s been a confusing couple of months.”

“I can only imagine.” Cody stepped forward, placing a hand on Obi-Wan’s arm and he leant into the touch, his heart stuttering in his chest. He hadn’t realised it before, but now? Now with the touch of Cody’s hand still burning on his palm and his closeness, the scent of warm honey and sandalwood blanketing them both, Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to stay next to him for as long as he was able.

“Even this…” Obi-Wan waved as if that one gesture could encompass the overgrown fields and the vacant buildings. “I don’t know what I intended coming down here, or even if I’m going to stay in the end.”

“Obi-Wan. You’re allowed to give yourself time. Time to grieve, to plan, to work things out. Give it… a year. I’ll help. It’ll do me some good to have a proper project again, so you’d really be doing me a favour.”

Obi-Wan had had his suspicions upon meeting the man that they would be well-matched. He couldn’t say why, but whether it was destiny or some cruel whim of fate, Cody Fett had been placed in front of him, and Obi-Wan couldn’t find any urge to say no. Every argument he could think of paled in the face of his earnest, serious expression.

“A year?”

Cody nodded, stepping closer and tipping his head back to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze. “One year. Want to shake on it?”

Obi-Wan laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are a very dangerous man, Cody Fett, but agreed.”

Cody’s grin was blinding, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but join in, feeling the tension release from his shoulders in the flood that was no longer going to drown him but carry him onwards.

“First job of the day is to fix the fence.” Cody turned, using his grip on Obi-Wan’s hand to twine their fingers together, stooping the same movement to pick up the toolbox. “Given that my usual helper is occupied, can I convince you to step in for me?”

“I’d be delighted.”

One year to see what would happen, and one year to make a choice.

Obi-Wan squeezed Cody’s hand, the other man squeezing back, his thumb rubbing along the curve of Obi-Wan’s knuckles, and they walked together through the field, both feeling an odd sense of familiarity but neither speaking it aloud.

#codywan #Star Wars #codywanweek2021 #codywan week 2021 #commander Cody #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #boba fett #my writing #fanfic

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hxney-lemcn · 3 years

Text

Stay — Five Hargreeves x gn! reader

Summery: Reader finds themself in the apocalypse, thankfully they find someone to share the pain with. Though even after the world ends people can get into fights.

tw: Death, mentions of injury, angst at first but ending is fluffy

wc: 1.3k

Main Master List | TUA Master List

apocalypse a·poc·a·lypse /əˈpäkəˌlips/

noun

the complete final destruction of the world.

That was the hell I was currently going through. I bet you’re wondering how I survived. To answer your question simply I have powers. Yes like a super hero except I wasn’t all heroey. In fact I tried to avoid any bad situation just like the next guy. My power? Regeneration. The cells in my body regenerate faster than any other living beings. It was both a blessing and a curse.

When I got hurt it would heal in a snap. Yet I still felt the pain and let me tell you it hurts. So surviving the apocalypse was bad in many ways, but one way was that I felt my skin get burned. It felt like an intense burn ravaging my entire body, not a single inch of skin safe.

Then came the problem of being the only person left on Earth. I had to scavenge for the bare necessity and I had no motivation of survival since I would survive for however long.

Currently I was sitting down in the ruins of a library mulling over what I have been through. Seeing the moon crash down onto the Earth’s surface was terrible. I was filled with fear for not myself but my loved ones. I knew life’s cruel ways would have me survive a world alone.

I’ve been wandering the Earth’s barren surface for years now. Dealing with the storms and my mental health. I let out a shaky sigh remembering my friends and family and their unfortunate deaths.

“Tell me whooooooo,” I whined drawing out the o.

“It’s Jarrid,” My friend sighed with a small smile.

I let out a squeal, “I so want to help you two get together.”

“No!” They groaned not wanting to get embarrassed by me. I glanced out the window with a bright smile until I noticed that the moon was on fire and chunks of it were coming closer to Earth. I felt my heart drop and my throat close up. Noticing my expression my friend followed my gaze and our faces held the same look. One of utter devastation and fear. I looked to my friend with tears quickly sliding down my face in rivers. Before either of us could mutter a single word we were licked up by the flames. The last sensation I felt was burning before passing out.

I let out a choked sob as the memories resurfaced vividly. Why am I cursed to live on when there was nothing to live for? I noticed that night was coming and that I should go to bed. I knew that I wouldn’t get much sleep since nightmares plague my dreams every night. I perked up at the sound of footsteps, not having heard anything but a voice in my head for the past few years.

Is this it? Have I finally gone crazy? Am I hearing things? I looked around the horizon seeing a figure in the distance. I felt my heart speed up and my mouth felt more dry than normal. My mind was racing yet I couldn’t focus on one thought.

“H-hello!?” I shouted out waving trying to gain their attention. “Are you real?!” The ‘person’ saw me and started to make their way towards me. So many emotions were rushing through me at the moment. When they finally got to my little shelter the sun was fully down and the stars were out twinkling.

It was a guy who was taller then me. He had black hair and lifted up his goggles revealing the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Then again I haven’t seen another person in such a long time. I felt tears leak from my eyes once again and I placed a hand on his cheek to make sure that he was indeed real.

“Y-you are real,” I whispered out, my voice cracking slightly. He let out a shaky laugh like he was trying to stop himself from crying as well.

“As real as I can get,” He responded and God was it nice to hear someone else. I hugged him not caring if it was rude to not ask first. I held the stranger as close as possible, still not believing this was real.

“W-we should rest,” I stuttered pulling him into my shelter. “What’s your name?”

“Five,” He replied, his voice slightly raspy.

“(Y/n),” I replied with a small smile. He nodded.

That was how I met the only other survivor of the apocalypse. We bonded quickly even if we both had our fair share of arguments. He explained how he had a way of getting back to the past to try and stop the whole deal and I told him as much as I knew of what caused the apocalypse. We were as close as close could be. We had a mutual understanding that in order to survive we should stick together and try and get along. Yet some arguments really hurt me...

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☂

“Five you should take a break, let’s eat some lunch,” I spoke up when I noticed how stressed my companion looked.

“I’m close to a breakthrough (y/n) but I can’t focus with your yapping,” Five snapped glaring at me.

“Your health is more important,” I argued back. “If you lose it then there’s no way back!”

“You already are making me lose it!” Five snarled. “At least Delores let’s me think!”

“Delores is a mannequin!” I cried out feeling my frustration fill my veins. “She can’t tell when you need a break and when you need to take care of yourself!”

“I wish you would just go away and leave me alone,” Five spat.

“Is it so bad that I care about you?!” I shouted feeling tears threaten to spill.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Five said. “Maybe you should just leave and never come back.” I felt my heart shatter at what he said. He looked so sincere and I felt my tears bubble over. I looked away and walked off. If he wants me to leave fine. I left our base and didn’t care where I would end up. I let out a scream of frustration and kicked a rock.

“Shit!” I cursed feeling a bone or two break. Stupid Five. Stupid Delores. Why does the last person on Earth hate me? I was just being kind. I care for him, I love him, he’s the only one keeping me sane. Yet he drives me insane at the same time. I sat down staring at the sun make its way across the sky. I have to go back sometime. I know he didn’t mean what he said, but it hurt none the less. I calmed down and breathed in deeply. Standing up I made my way back to the camp. The sun setting behind me. It was a beautiful sight no matter what.

When I entered the camp Five sat before a small fire with two things of food. I stopped in the ‘doorway’ and he looked up at me. They say the eyes are the gateway to the soul and honestly I believed that. Five looked so scared, guilty, and sad at that moment. He looked like a boy who was scared to lose the last thing he had and I felt guilty too. I left him and he actually thought I wasn’t coming back.

Five gaped at me before keeping his mouth shut and looking down. I sat down next to him and we ate in silence.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled out, not being able to take the deafening silence.

“No,” Five responded seriously. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry for saying that to you. I don’t want you to leave, ever. Please stay.” I stared into his deep blue eyes and I felt myself soften at his pleas.

“I could never leave you Five,” I said softly. “I love you and I could never leave you.” Five’s eyes widened and his cheeks turned a sharp shade of red. He swallowed nervously as he felt his heart beat erratically. I smiled at him, understanding how it would be hard for him to return the words, but I knew he felt the same way. I pulled him into a gentle hug and we stayed that way for a long time.

We may be stuck in an apocalypse, but I’m glad that we have each other.

#tua #the umbrella academy #five #five hargreeves #fivehargreeves #five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #fivehargreevesxreader #xreader #x reader #tua x reader #the umbrella academy x reader

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madsthewordclown · 3 years

Text

Fire Lily | Pt. 13

warnings: some angst?

summary: y/n is surprised to run into a person from her past.

a/n: AGH I’m so so sorry this chapter took so much time and isn’t very long :/ I really struggled with motivation and inspiration this past week with my classes picking up again. But! I am back! This chapter takes place during “Sokka’s Master.” Hope you guys enjoy!

reminder: my taglist is OPEN! send me a message or ask to be added :)

Fire Lily Masterlist

Y/N had barely managed to fall asleep when she felt someone jostle her shoulder.

“Y/N, get up,” Katara said gently. Y/N groaned, rolling over uncomfortable on the lumpy ground.

“Y/N,” Katara repeated. “You need to see this.”

Y/N yawned, slowly coming to sit up, blinking slowly. She absentmindedly lit a fire in her palm to illuminate the space.

“No, we don’t need fire. Come on.”

Y/N reluctantly stood, letting the fire in her hands flicker out. Katara led Y/N out of the tree-covered area they had camped into a clearing on a hill, where Sokka, Aang, and Toph were waiting.

“What exactly am I looking at?” Y/N mumbled. What time was it? Two in the morning?

“Just look up,” Katara giggled. Y/N obeyed and raised her head to see the bright streaks painting the sky.

“Oh,” Y/N breathed, watching the spots of light soar across her vision. Y/N felt the tension leave her shoulders as she watched the sky. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Aang agreed, reaching his arms out to invite them all to throw their arms around each other. Y/N moved closer and felt Katara’s arm settle across her shoulders, but she never took her eyes away from the sky.

Y/N had never seen a meteor shower before. It was better than she had imagined—the stars were so bright here, not like Ba Sing Se. The night sky went on forever, meteors leaving trails of brightness across the comforting deep blanket of darkness the sky provided.

Tiny stars blinked down at her, and Y/N felt the warmth growing in her stomach. It made her think of the tea shop, if only for a moment.

Something about staring up at the sky made her feel small, but it wasn’t an unwelcome feeling. There were so many small people in the world, and even though she was traveling with the Avatar, even though she was on the run, and even though her life had been upended, she could be one of those small people, if only for a moment.

“Um, guys,” Sokka pointed up at the sky. “That one looks a bit close.”

“Oh, really? Which one?” Toph panned sarcastically. Y/N suddenly remembered that Toph couldn’t see the meteor shower. The girl was sitting on the ground with her arms crossed a few feet away. “You’ve seen nothing once, you’ve seen it a million times.”

“You’ve never not seen anything like this,” Sokka said. The ground seemed to shake for a moment, and Y/N watched as the meteor dipped out of view behind some trees. The ground seemed to shake, a loud crash echoing.

“Oh,” Toph started, standing. “You’re right, Sokka.”

Y/N followed the others through the trees, seeing the meteor, a ball of flame that was already beginning to catch the surrounding grass.

“The fire is going to destroy that town!” Katara shouted. Y/N could see the rooftops in the distance. Katara was right, and before Y/N could come up with any sort of response, they were rushing into action.

Katara was already heading to a nearby creek, bending the water towards the flames while Aang and Toph lifted large chunks of earth from the ground.

“What can I do?” Sokka asked. Y/N could tell how much he wanted to be helpful.

“Umm…” Aang replied, continuing to create a trench, “watch Momo?”

Sokka turned to Y/N. “Aren’t you going to help?”

“I barely know how to make fire, Sokka,” Y/N replied, sighing as they watched their friends go to work. “I haven’t figured out how to stop it. Plus,” Y/N smiled, “this is space fire.”

“Pretty sure it’s just regular fire,” Sokka grumbled, but Y/N saw the corners of his mouth upturn slightly. It was better than nothing.

---

Sokka was a shopaholic, Y/N decided. He’d been in a sour mood since the night before, when he was left to babysit Momo. But Katara had offered to let him look around in a weaponry store, and suddenly he was acting like a giddy little kid.

Y/N wandered around on her own in the shop. She could hear Sokka’s giggles from across the store. She looked around at the distinctly Fire Nation items—swords with red accents in the hilt, armor pieces made of dark, gleaming metal. It was much different from the craftsmanship of Jet’s swords. These were made with aesthetic in mind, with the time to add the red embellishments and tassels and inscriptions.

Jet’s swords were finely made, but they weren’t things to marvel at. They were made to work, work well, and nothing more. The blades were getting dull—she’d have to figure out how to sharpen them later. Y/N ran a finger along the inscription of a dagger on the wall—Honor and country—and started when someone coughed behind her.

Y/N whipped around, hands poised on the swords at her waist. Behind her stood a boy, with dark hair and a little bit of stubble on his jaw. He looked oddly familiar, and then the realization hit.

“Jain!” Y/N cried. She didn’t move her hands from her swords. He was dressed in a dark red tunic and black pants, his hair in a bun on top of his head.

“So, it is you.” Jain gave Y/N a once-over, his dark eyes taking in the blades and the Fire Nation clothes. “I wondered where you went off to.”

“What are you doing here, Jain?” Y/N couldn’t decide whether or not to be angry. She wasn’t sure if Jain was an enemy or not.

“Just visiting my homeland,” Jain drawled, as if it was obvious. Y/N supposed it was. Jain glanced around, assuring no one was near.

“Look,” he sighed, “I can’t here, but if you want to talk, I can meet you later.”

“What?” Y/N gaped. She still couldn’t process the fact that Jain was here. In front of her. Right now. More handsome than she remembered, though she’d never admit it. He wasn’t a string bean anymore.

“I can catch you up on what’s happening back home,” Jain offered. “I can take a message back for you, if you want.”

“Okay.” Y/N didn’t hesitate to answer. Jain would know about her parents. Maybe Bihun was back. Y/N hadn’t heard anything about her colony since she had left.

“I can meet you in the marketplace this afternoon,” Jain said, already turning away. Y/N diverted her eyes back to the dagger in front of her. Honor and country.

“Alright,” Y/N agreed, listening to Jain’s footsteps fade.

---

“You what?!” Katara cried. “Y/N, we can’t trust Fire Nation.”

“Why are you just telling us now?” Aang added in agreement.

“I knew Sokka wouldn’t like it,” Y/N admitted. She had been relieved when she learned that Sokka would be away to train under a master, and not just because she was happy for him. He wouldn’t have let her go meet with Jain. Or worse; he’d insist on coming along.

“Well, we don’t like it either,” Toph piped in. “Why do you need to go talk to this guy anyway?”

“He was a friend of my brother’s,” Y/N explained. She could remember Jain from Bihun’s first years at school. He was one of the few friends that Y/N’s parents allowed to visit the house. “He lives in the colony. He can tell me what’s happening at my home.”

“I don’t know…” Katara trailed off, her eyes sharp.

“He can tell me about my parents, Katara,” Y/N pleaded. “I… I don’t know what happened to them after I left.”

Katara thought for a moment, but Aang spoke for her.

“Okay,” he said. “If it’s important to you, it’s important to us. But if you aren’t back by sundown, we’ll come to look for you.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Y/N surged forward, pulling Aang into a hug. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“I still don’t like it,” Katara said, and Toph nodded, “but we’re here for you. Be safe.”

“I will,” Y/N promised. She didn’t think Jain would hurt her, but the words kept ringing through her head. Honor and country. Would they outweigh his care for her? She thought of Zuko.

Y/N tried to remember that she had no reason to hide while she walked through the marketplace, keeping an eye out for Jain. He was taller than she remembered, and definitely looked older. She wondered if that was how old Bihun would look, if he were here.

She spotted Jain by a food stand and did her best to approach casually. Jain turned around and faced her, two bags of fire flakes in his hands.

“Why are you walking like that?” Jain gave her an odd look, an eyebrow raised. Y/N immediately straightened her posture, her cheeks warming. So much for being casual.

“Come on,” Jain beckoned after a moment, leading Y/N around a street corner. He handed her one of the bags of fire flakes, using his now free hand to fumble with the doorknob on the nearest home.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “I hope you’re not breaking in.”

“No, I—” Jain jimmied the handle some more, and it finally turned, the door opening. “There we go.”

Y/N followed Jain inside, her nerves building. It was a nice enough place. Small. Flammable, if it came down to that. Y/N hoped it wouldn’t.

“Whose house is this?” Y/N asked, looking around at the many potted plants that filled the room.

“My aunt’s,” Jain replied, stuffing a handful of fire flakes in his mouth. He noticed Y/N looking at the greenery. “I know, she has a ton of plants. She’s a little crazy.”

“I think they’re nice,” Y/N frowned, gently touching the leaf of a small, white-flowering plant by the window. She still hadn’t taken a bite from her fire flakes. “Why did you buy me these?”

“Hospitality,” Jain answered simply, like it wasn’t weird. Y/N was fairly sure it was weird. They were in the Fire Nation, and the Fire Nation would be anything but hospitable if they knew she were here, with the Avatar, no less. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had them.”

“I have,” Y/N scoffed. She took small handful of flakes and popped them into her mouth. Damn, they were spicy. She tried to stifle her reaction, taking a seat across from him at the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Like I said, visiting the homeland.” Jain took a seat at the small wooden table in the center of the room. “My aunt is gone to the capital for a few weeks, so she said I should come here to ‘experience the true national culture.’” Jain made air quotes with his hands. “I think she just wanted a plant sitter.”

Y/N nodded, looking down at her hands that were still wrapped around the back of fire flakes.

“What are you, doing here, Y/N? I thought…”

Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he had thought. He probably thought she was dead or imprisoned like her brother.

“I went to Ba Sing Se,” Y/N explained. “And I met friends. We’re traveling together.”

It wasn’t a total lie. Really, it wasn’t a lie at all, Y/N rationalized. Just an omission of some details. Jain had a look on his face that said he knew that wasn’t the whole story.

“Do…” Y/N trailed off, unsure of how to continue. “Does everyone know? About me?”

“You nearly burned down your parents’ house and singed the eyebrows off of two soldiers, Y/N.” Jain chomped down another handful of fire flakes.

“Oh.” Yes, she had done that. Of course everyone knew.

“Not much has changed since you left,” Jain reassured. “Well, it did at first. A lot of soldiers came through at first, looking for you. The village is doing well enough.”

“What about my parents?”

Jain’s expression darkened. “The Fire Nation believes that your parents committed a crime by hiding you from them. Your… father is looking for you.” Jain shimmied uncomfortably at the word ‘father,’ and Y/N felt her stomach churn.

“Are they okay?” They had to be okay. That was the whole point of her leaving. If they weren’t okay… it was all for nothing.

“Yeah, for now. There are soldiers stationed at your house, in case you try to return. But your parents are safe. Your father was too close to the Earth King before Ba Sing Se fell, and he’s still got powerful allies in the smaller cities that are left. They won’t touch them until they know where you are. Some people are dead set on finding you, Y/N.”

“And you aren’t going to turn me in?”

“Of course not, Y/N.” Jain’s expression seemed hurt. “Bihun is my best friend, and he’d want me to help you. And you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Y/N wanted to correct him. I’m helping the Avatar to defeat your nation. We’re planning to invade your capital as we speak. She tried to hold back the question at the tip of her tongue. “Have you heard anything about my brother?”

Jain frowned and shook his head. “I’ve actually managed to do some asking around, but I haven’t found anything. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N stared at the table as her eyes stung.

“I miss him, too.” Jain put his hand out, resting it on the table in front of her. “He’d be happy for you, you know. That you made it out of that house. I know you’ve struggled,” Jain eyed the scars on her hands from her months of traveling and fighting that hadn’t been there before, “but he’d be happy. And I’m not going to stop trying to find him.”

“Neither will I.” A warm tear traveled its way down Y/N’s face. “Will you check in on my parents for me, when you can?”

“Yes, anything,” Jain offered a smile. “I can bring back a message for them?”

Y/N shook her head. “I think it’s best they don’t hear from me until it’s all over.”

Jain nodded understandingly. “Y/N, I want you to know that my allegiance is to my family first. Bihun is like a brother to me, so you’re my family too. If you ever need anything, you can ask.”

“Thank you, Jain.” Y/N glanced out the window, the sun beginning to dip in the sky. “I should go.”

“Alright,” Jain said, standing. Y/N stood with him, leaving her fire flakes on the table. She’d pass on those. Before she could convince herself not to, Y/N pulled Jain in for a hug, letting out a shaky breath when he wrapped his arms around her. “Take care of yourself, Y/N,” Jain whispered softly.

“I will,” Y/N promised again. “You too.”

---

“How did it go?” Katara asked as soon as Y/N came into view of their camp outside of town.

“Good.” She noticed Sokka pouting on the ground. “How was Sokka’s training?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this!” Sokka cried indignantly. “It’s not safe to be talking to the Fire Nation!”

“She’s obviously fine,” Toph groaned. “And no one followed her here. And we all look like Fire Nation anyway!”

“Hmph,” Sokka grumbled.

“What did he tell you?” Aang asked curiously. Y/N recounted what Jain had told her, about her parents. About her father. When she was done, Katara smiled.

“I’m glad you went to talk to him, Y/N. It’s great that your parents are safe.”

“Yeah,” Aang agreed. “And after we defeat the Fire Lord, you’ll be able to go back home. I promise.”

Fire Lily Masterlist

taglist: @kaylove12, @akariblue, @wolfiemichele, @aquatickanye, @sunflowerr-mami, @nadiblue. @la3divine, @sarsky, @aangsupremacy, @good-ones-are-taken

#atla fanfic #eventual zuko x reader #zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #atla #avatar: tla #avatar fanfic #atla x reader #Katara being the mom friend #sokka is sokka

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snowbellewells · 3 years

Text

Self-Promo Sunday: “A Cottage by the Sea”

Good news, shipmates!! There’s a reason I am promo-ing this fic this Sunday. I finally have a new (and rather lengthy) update for this long neglected fic ready to go tomorrow. It’s been such a while though that I felt like I should tease it a bit and put the story back in peoples’ memories - as well as post easy links to the previous chapters. To those who have been waiting, I am truly sorry. After this, there should only be one more part, more of an epilogue really, so you shouldn’t have too much more waiting in store...

(Also always, a HUGE thank you to @searchingwardrobes for the stunning fic cover art! And to @kmomof4 and the @cssns20 for patience as this story stretched out so long, and for the reblogs and recognition.)

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the sand near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the beach, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half. But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…

Previous chapters here on Tumblr: Prologue Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Previous chapters on AO3: Prologue Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

And, as promised, a bit of a teaser for the tomorrow’s update... ;)

“...No sooner had Emma been able to swallow hard in a throat suddenly parched with apprehension, her fingers clenched in the material of Killian’s sleeve, above all else determined she wouldn’t let him be taken from her again, when everything around them went horribly, unnaturally still. The waves, the wind, all their surroundings silently seeming to hold their breath before chaos broke loose. For one last moment, she and her lieutenant fixed their eyes on each other; wordlessly swearing to see each other on the other side, whether or not it was within their power to follow through on such a promise. Then he turned to face his sire - if one could truly be made to believe that the monstrous captain towering over them at the prow of the other ship could have had any connection to the true and honorable man Killian had become. Intending to remain at his back, to do whatever she could to help him fight and keep them afloat, Emma straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine as they waited and watched.

Sound and fury returned to the world around them as the accursed captain reached the very helm of his ship, bringing him fully into view as his low, malevolent chuckle at their show of resolve seemed to set the waves crashing and churning once more. “Oh ho, Killian, you’ve brought your intended to our long-awaited reunion, have you? Not particularly well-advised, but she is a pretty wench. I supposed I can see why you’d be loath to leave her behind.”

Killian’s frown deepend, the muscle in his jaw working as he bit down on his anger. Those eyes that she usually likened to the brilliance of a summer sky or the blue of his beloved ocean were instead lit with the pale fire of the hottest of flames at Davy’s callous words. “Hardly,” he clipped in a low growl. “I had no intention of meeting you at all. And I’ll not have you getting anywhere near Emma.”

“Is that so?” Davy snarled, his own temper seeming to erupt at his offspring’s defiance. “We’ll just see about that!”

The waves their little boat floated upon suddenly seemed propelled forward, rising on a towering crest of water as if drawn to Davy’s hand. Skilled a sailor as Killian was, there was no steering them anywhere else when the very elements were turned against them. The air seemed to quiver just as Emma found herself doing, as they came face-to-face with the accursed being. The boards of the vessel beneath their feet groaned and creaked as the frothing sea bearing it seemed ready to dash it to kindling. The air whistled and howled, whipping her hair against her face until she was nearly blinded. And yet, she saw the horrifying shade who faced them, the dark cloud of obsession clouding eyes which might once have been clear and striking as the sons he claimed as his own. He stood taller than the average man, seeming even larger with the wild hair and wide-brimmed, ostentatiously old-fashioned hat atop his head. All his dress was from a more ornate and bygone age, and yet looked gone to ruin rather than impressive; almost mildewed, or perhaps it was a growth of some sort of moss or coral upon his apparel after so long within the sea. Beyond the visible appearance however, the aura of evil power practically radiated from his being, and Emma felt herself draw back before even realizing she had done so.

Pleased with the nightmare impression he never failed to make, Davy Jones chortled in maniacal glee. “Oh yes, I see you there, Princess. Try not to fret overmuch. No matter how brave, they always cower before me in the end.”

She wanted to contradict his words, to call back that Killian wasn’t afraid and that she believed in him, but Emma found her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, speechless and unable to react other than to stare, frozen, until with one last murderous crow, Davy cackled, “You’re both in my clutches, and no hope to escape. Look your last on the world above...”

Tagging a few who might be interested... @cssns @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @jrob64 @stahlop @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @thislassishooked @xsajx @drowned-dreamer @thisonesatellite @shireness-says @aloha-4-ever @ultraluckycatnd

#self promo sunday #cssns20 fic #cs au mc #a cottage by the sea #enchanted forest au ff #lieutenant duckling au #part five teaser

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sky-arcobaleno · 3 years

Text

memories of the forest

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader;

Sky piercing trees loomed an unreachable canopy above her head as she raced through the forest’s lower jungle. Vines and upturning roots were nothing to her skilled bare feet. Dodging another low branch, the cheeky girl laughed to herself. Her clan would never be able to catch her here! Within Teair’s close knitted playground, this child of the sky wandered freely. Slowing down to a small stream, the girl perked up at the sound of a grass being moved. Something was here. Something….soft? Standing up and brushing off her deer skirt, she turned around to see her uninvited guest. She blinked, genuinely confused, as a vulpine beast with four tails sat in front of her. The tips of its tails were a soft autumn orange. It was….divine like. Nothing like Grandame Forneil, but close.

“Who are you?” The voice was male, but a child male. Close around her age...maybe. She would find out.

“I’m a daughter of the sky! Who are you?” the beast curled its tails around its feet. Seeming to observe her before answering.

“A beast of fire.” She laughed to herself, but not quiet at all.

“You are a land beast of flames!” The vulpine beast growled, quickly crouching down, ready to pounce. She only looked at the vulpine beast before giggling.

“Silly vulpine! You are land fire. I am -” the mighty roar of Grandame Gowyual trembled the loose dirt below the girl’s feet. Giggling louder, the girl finished her sentence. “- sky fire!”

It had been a few summers since she saw that land firefox of four tails. Ah...Kitsune, Grandame Forneil had explained the night of the fateful day. A Kitsune of four tails at such an age was a feat Forneil had continued on. She was lucky that Kitsune was curious about her, lest the beast grow bored and end her life. Sighing and shaking her braid behind her, the now young teen races through the same forest. This time, instead of playing hide & seek, she was practicing her tracking and hunting skills.

“Skills of a warrior. A survivor.” Grandame Locoful had croaked out before she left the nest with Grandame Forneil. Skidding to a halt and notching her arrow, focused gray eyes followed the peaceful deer. She was with a child, if the bigger belly was anything to go by. Removing her arrow and turning around, gray eyes locked on a sight of wonder. A golden kitsune with five tails, tipped in a familiar autumn tone. Ah…a fire kitsune. That’s when knowing crimson locked on her. Suddenly, she felt as if she was facing a true predator. A predator of many hunts and had victory in its tight bite. The kitsune rose, a head or two taller than her, and began to walk towards her. A small spark of fear struck her body, tensing her muscles. She was ready to fight. As the kitsune reached about a few paces ahead, the sudden breeze came. On its path...the smell of….smoke? Turning in the breeze’s direction, the girl saw the thick mog. Small, but growing rapidly.

“Stupid humans!” the girl mumbled under her breath. Was she human? She assumed not. After all, she lived with dragons. No mere mortal could live as long as she had. Glancing at the kitsune, who was watching her actions, the girl spoke in her serious voice as she stood up right.

“This is not the work of dragons. I will return with a dragon of water to save this forest.” The kitsune only tilted its head before speaking in a deep voice.

“A ride to a clearing may be the fastest way.” A kitsune making an offer? A trick if the situation wasn’t growing dire every minute. With a brisk nod, she walked over and carefully got on the furred back of the majestic beast. With ease, the beast ran through the thicket. No fur caught on low limbs and nothing hesitated the pathway. That’s when heavy clouds of ashy smoke filled the air and her breath. Fire. A forest fire caused by inattentive mortals.

“You will not reach the clearing in time.” fearing for the woods and the lives within, the girl hummed to herself before stretching both arms to the sky.

“Hear my cry! O’ beast of the lake. Take flight to the Azure’s Domain and bring the blessing of new beginnings! Locoful, dragon of Shiramizu! Hear me and cry out your blessing!” The heavy snaps of trees falling and the crackling of flames echoed back. Her cry was swallowed by the dire situation. The kitsune whacked her head.

“No dragon will hear you, imbecile.” She growled at the statement. Hoping it was false. Locoful would hear her. She always did.

“She will not abandon her fledgling.” The beast of fire exhaled heavily before turning around.

“Then at least be alive for her to save you.” Then, the Kitsune took off again. Running away from the flames. It is then, as the Kitsune jumped over a fallen log, a mighty roar and the sound of heavy crashing swallowed the air.

“Locoful!!” She cried, overjoyed, as the mighty dragon arrived. Within mere moments, the forest fire was put to rest and the mighty beast stared at her and the Kitusne. Slipping off the Kitsune’s back and reaching Locoful’s side, the girl spoke.

“See Kitsune, beast of land fire? Locoful will always answer her fledgling’s cry.”

It was hardly a season’s changing since the forest fire, when she found herself alone by the lake nest. Around her, curled protectively, laid Setluno. Setluno was a young dragon, half the age of Grandame Forneil. Setluno was the only one who played with her. Now, Setluno is forever embraced by the forest’s trees and the lake’s watery shoreline. In front of the nest’s entrance, Gowyral was delimbed and beheaded by a blade endowed with magic. The lake was boiling in rage as Gowyral fell. Locoful had died upon return to the nest, multiple poisonous arrows cracking her scales and the poison taking her life before she could finish her warning. Forneil was the only one alive. Yet, she was over a season’s change away. She wanted Forneil to come back. Avenge the nest. Protect her. Save her. She was scared and lonely. She was no beast of sky fire. She was a mortal. Just like those responsible for the death of her nestmates. So blinded by the emotions she felt and the events that occurred within three sun positions, she didn’t notice the lake’s water coming into the nest. Hardly felt the power shifting within her. Never noticed how she was no longer pooled in blood, but now in the sky, riding a mighty beast. Intended on killing those who took her nest.

He heard the mournful cry of a dragon before he saw one take flight. Yet, this dragon was not one of the physical planes. No. This dragon was alive by the sheer magic of a mortal. A mortal intent on bringing justice. His favorite mortal to be precise. What had happened? Taking off in pursuit, he saw how the dragon looked, searched, for something or someone. What mission required such measures of hunting and tracking? That’s when the tree sprites, Kodama, began to whisper.

“Dragons dead”

“Beast slain by man”

“Oyamatsumi is enraged”

“So is Ryujin and Fujin”

“The fledgling calls for blood.”

“She will kill everyone.” Fearing that his mortal might do just that, the Kitsune prayed to his given deity. Prayed that his human would have to take rest on the ground. Allow him a chance to guide her away from the path of evil.

“Please let me get to her in time. For the world will be chaos if she succeeds.”

Three summers have passed since that loss of her nest. She now ruled the forest with a close eye. Grandame Forneil was so broken by the deaths of her flightmates, she had taken her own life in the very same lake. Now, that lake was surrounded by beautiful flowers that would poison anyone who touched them. The only saving grace from them was if the person had suffered such a loss as she has. Now alone within the woods she called home, a thought passed her mind. Why her dragons? Why not her? This thought had haunted her for many nights and days. Nothing could stop these thoughts except the occasional hunting trips and killing off gluttonous men. Now, she stood in the lake’s shallow shores, naked under the sunlight. A bath after a recent hunting trip, when the snap of a branch caught her ear. Within a mere moment, she stood with her bow taunt and arrow notched, aimed at the noise. Only to see the familiar Kitsune. Yet, he now bore six tails. He had grown more powerful in the last three summers. They watched each other, waiting for the other to make a move, when she lowered her bow and set it on the sand.

“What, beast of land fire?” The Kitsune huffed, keeping its distance.

“You are not meant to be alone, mortal of flames. You need to be with others.” Gray eyes stared into crimson. She knew the Kitsune was correct. He usually was. Yet, to be with others meant risking another nest massacre. She couldn’t handle another heartbreak like that.

“Leave Kitsune.”

“You know my name. Use it.” She shook her head. A name meant power. Power she did not deserve. Suddenly, a warm cloth covered her shoulders and a man’s voice spoke closer to her.

“Y/N, the others miss you. The forest misses you! I...I miss you.” Warm arms enclosed her, making her heart beat faster and her mind filled with happy, joyous memories of younger times.

“Please...please don’t make me remember Kitsune.” The arms tightened, and the man’s voice returned.

“I will always remind you of the joy life can bring. But first, you must take my hand.”

She now stood before the overwhelming hearth of the mountain. She had found the murderers of her nest. The cause for her mourning. The cause of her grief. Today, she will return the favor. With her blade drawn and her eyes focused, Y/N was about to take the killing blow, when she saw the triplets resting in the mother’s arms. Suddenly, like ice had appeared, it sent shivers down her back. A mother and her children. Innocent children. With quick thoughts and quicker reflexes, she turned around and began to spirit back in the forest. The forest was now alive, gleaming with life. Yet, life that could be easily taken away. Tears pricked her eyes and she tumbled down a hill. She could only feel the numbness in her heart. She had nearly repeated history again. With another family. Another generation of hurt and hate. Y/N closed her eyes, hoping for the tears to disappear. For this pain to leave.

He watched in slow motion as his mate, his Rook, leaped in front of him. Taking the killing blow from the monstrous demon Shi-gi. He watched, as his luminous flames encircled her body. A mortal with Kitsune Flames. Proof of their mate bond. He was enticed by the way she reached for the heavens, crying out for her deceased nestmates, and aimed her hands at Shi-gi.

“From the dust and stars, a life is born. To dust and star, life returns. From the mighty cry of a dragon and the plead of humanity, I fused the realms to grant my inner desire and wish!” He watched, as the five primordial deities appeared in forms of a phoenix, tiger, snake, tortoise, and….dragon. Together with his mate, the beings reached out their hands and gave power to her.

“I command the soul of Shi-gi to be bound to the realms of the inner Earth! May no beast, no mortal, no divine being find you. May you wirth in the chaos of the world and never be able to take part in its affairs! I bound thee to this plane and no other!! I banish you Shi-gi, from paradise and hell itself!!” His flames encircled her and suddenly, he remembered the price for banishment from Paradise. A soul for a soul.

“No!” He reached out, but only the feeling of his flames returned. His mate, now burning away in his flames, smiled at him.

“Find me again my love. In a time where you and I can co-exist without Shi-gi.”

He mourned to himself as the forest his love protected was burned by his flames. No. There was no world without her smile. No reason to continue if she wasn’t there. No point in existence. Turning around, ready to end his own and see her, a glimpse of something flashed through his mind’s eye. A girl, with amber hair and glowing eyes, running away from him in a playful manner. The same girl mocking his sharp teeth. The girl seeking the yokai realm for the first time. Then, the same girl bore his mark. A mark only he could create. Like lightning, he turned away from the murderous flames and ran through the woods. He couldn’t die. Just as his mate asked, he would find her again. Find her in a time where that cursed Shi-gi did not exist. His name is not even remembered by humanity. She had returned to the world of the living in some time. He would have to be there, ready and waiting, to meet her all over again.

#katsuki bakugō #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #yokai my hero #kitsune bakugo #fanfic #one shot for now #please dont hate #no beta read #katsuki #bakugo #reader #short story

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chokemeanakin · 4 years

Note

Yoooo if you’re taking requests could you do some anakin with a short, shy/insecure reader who isn’t a spitfire just because they’re short? I just love height differences man 🤩 ty if you decide to do this!

Thanks for the request! This stuff is right up my alley tbh. I hope this meets your expectations babe 😘

masterlist

ps we love all of our beautiful tall queens too

Anakin Skywalker x Short/Shy/Insecure Reader Headcanons (gn)

You would always be a little intimidated by Anakin because he is One Tall Boy, plus he's very powerful, confident, and famous within the Jedi world. You felt like he could easily squash you like a bug if he wanted. But then you got to know him, and he was so sweet to you, everything that used to intimidate you sort of just melted away into infatuation.

You had a crush on him for so long, mostly because there was no way in hell you were telling The Hero with No Fear you had feelings for him. He was a Jedi after all, forbidden from attachment, and you knew your confession would just crash and burn. It didn’t stop you from freaking out every time you saw him in the hallways, or in the caf, or on the streets of Coruscant.

He’s very easy to talk to. He likes to tease, and that caused a lot of panicking early on as you got to know each and become friends, but soon you learned to notice when he was just pulling your strings. And since he’s so open about his own feelings and life, it made it easier for you to talk to him about your own. He accepted everything about you with open arms.

Of course, Anakin knew you had feelings for him all along. He has force perception, after all, and could sense the ridiculous amount of anxiety you would get whenever faced with him. That’s why he did all in his power to make you feel comfortable around him, to get you to come out of your shell and open up to him.

He never called you out on your feelings because he knew how embarrassing it would be for you. So he told you first, and was very patient while you admitted the same.

While your relationship progressed, you continued to open up with him but you were always going to be a little reserved and shy about things. It’s just who you were. For example, it was hard for you to get intimate with him and it took some time before you could even try. You would just get too nervous and in your head about everything.

You never had the best self esteem and you were ashamed for him to find out. You tried to hide it but over time he found out… he’s very perceptive and picked up on it quite fast. Again, he didn’t call you out for it. Instead he made it his purpose to go out of his way to give you little compliments every day, to make sure you know you’re beautiful and valued and loved. If he sees you closing yourself off, he’ll give you a hug and kiss the top of your head and assure you over and over again how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.

He is fine with taking things slow, and never pressures you. Honestly he thinks it’s kind of cute how bashful you become sometimes, how even after all this time of knowing each other he still has the power to make you nervous. He likes having that effect over you.

That being said, it’s so easy for him to get you flustered, and he takes every opportunity to do so. He has this way of speaking where when his entire attention is on you, his eyes stay trained on your face and he speaks slowly and languidly, and he tilts his head and smiles with the corner of his mouth-- like he’s sizing you up as prey. It gets you all antsy and squirmy, you often have to tell him “stop looking at me like that” and he just laughs and asks, “like what?”

He knows exactly what he’s doing

His voice just does things to you. The slow, elegant way he talks. His voice is deep and smooth like velvet, sort of raspy. He has this habit of whispering dirty things in your ears at random and when that happens… instant flaming cheeks. Your eyes get all wide and you stare into the distance in shock, mind replaying his words over and over again. He just pulls away and goes on with his day, smug smirk plastered on those beautiful lips.

Another way to get you easily flustered is if he does tiny stupid acts of kindness for you. Just little things that no one really thinks about, but when he does it it means the world to you. This includes bringing you your favorite drink on a random day just because he knows you like it, or getting you those flowers you were eyeing the other day, or leaving breakfast on the bedside table for you when you wake up, starting a bath for you after a long day, or bringing an extra pair of gloves with him in case it’s cold and you forgot yours. It’s these little things that make your cheeks get all red and your eyes all watery and you need to sit down cause no one’s ever treated you as good as Anakin.

Eye contact is hard for you. He can’t help that his eyes are just strangely intense, but he is good about getting you to look at him with a finger under the chin, or ducking down to catch your eye, or “look at me baby.” Instant butterflies.

Touch is his love language. You, on the other hand, were never used to much physical contact because you would never let anyone close. Suddenly, you had this boy who wanted to hold your hand, hug you, play with your hair, hold you, kiss you, pick you up and spin you around, everything. It took you some time to be able to do all that and be comfortable with it, and Anakin really showed how patient he could be with you which only made you like him more.

He constantly asks if you’re okay with certain things, or if he can do this or that. He just wants you to be comfortable around him.

Soon enough though you reciprocate each of these actions and more, and he couldn’t be happier.

When you’re in private, he has to be touching you in one way or another at all times. Holding your hand, holding your waist while you’re baking, guiding you places with a hand to the small of your back, stroking your hair away from your face while lying down, resting his hand on your knee (or thigh if he’s feeling that way) while he’s piloting, ect.

Loves to tease you for your height. It doesn’t bother you cause you know he doesn’t mean it in a harsh way. He does things like hold stuff over your head just to watch you reach and grab for it, purposefully hides things on tall shelves so you have to ask him for help, and one time he even put a booster seat on the co-pilot chair for you. That earned him a punch in the shoulder.

He doesn’t mind you being short though. He likes how when he pulls you in for a hug, you’re at just the right height where you can bury your face in his chest. Cuddling is so easy cause he can just wrap you in his arms and you’re the perfect size to curl up into him and be comfortable. If you wanna be the big spoon you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his head into your chest and press up against his back as much as you can. You kinda just look like a backpack.

He hates losing you in crowds though. If you’re not holding hands and he loses sight of you, he panics because you kind of have a tendency to just get swallowed up by large amounts of people. Not just due to your short stature, but your timid personality sometimes allows you to get pushed around. You can count on him shoving his way through the crowd to find you if you can’t make your way back. That’s why he always tries to hold hands if possible.

Needless to say, he’s very protective of you. If he hears anyone raising their voice at you, or insulting you in any way you can count on him to step right in to your defense. Remember what happened to Clovis? He has no problems reliving that incident if it comes to it.

Kissing is also a little difficult. Most times he has to bend down in order to reach you, other times you stand on your toes. Forehead kisses are his go-to.

It feels so good when he’s sitting, though, and you’re finally the same height or taller than him. You love being able to hold his face for once and take control of the kiss. He likes it too ;)

He always turns into such a soft boy around you. You’re so good and pure to him that he hates the thought of any evil and darkness corrupting you. He does everything in his power to shield you from the horrors of war that he has to face every day. He also loves taking a break from being that cocky, arrogant, reckless young Jedi around you. With you, he can be anything he wants, as you always see the best in him. Furthermore, he can share all of the emotions he has to hide from the Council with you-- fear, anger, sadness, love. You’re his pillar of strength that keeps him from leaving the order or turning to the dark side.

#sorry this is kinda long #anakin skywalker #anakin hc #anakin x reader #shy reader #insecure reader #short reader #star wars prequals #anakin fic

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princeanxious · 4 years

Text

The Royal Librarian- Chapter 1

Chapter 1- “The Road to Perfection is Destructive.”

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Future analogical, future sidelines royality, sidelines established dukeceit, background remile

Word Count: a little over 3k

Warnings For This Chapter: Virgil’s got anxiety and is a bit self depricating, brief mentions of panic attacks, Virgil stays up and works himself for so much longer and harder than is healthy for a normal person in one session, boi highkey overthinks a ton when he’s not occupied. Don’t work yourself for 24 hours straight like Virge does, it’s not good for you.

Minor notes on Virgil’s mental state in this fic: Virgil has ADHD(as reflected by my own life experience) that shows up in different ways here and there, and he suffers from RSD(Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) which drives Virgil’s need to be perfect or fail till he damn near collapses from exhaustion, which also just feeds into his chronic anxiety. Thats all for now!

Chapter one(you are here!)|Chapter two(coming soon!)

Bonus stuff:

-the Rough Library Layout

[[MORE]]

Quiet. Such a word was practically synonymous with Virgil’s existence. The young adult practically grew up in silence, sought quiet spaces out like a moth drawn to a flame. And like a deer spooked by a snapping branch, he often fled from loud groups larger than three. He had been a quiet child, content to lose himself in any book he could get his hands on, reading for hours in any quiet atmosphere he could find. Alone, and content because of it.

So it was really no surprise he picked up a local library apprenticeship when he’d turned fifteen, and was a well-versed and well-read librarian by age nineteen. He had his lifelong friend Patton to thank for making him apply alongside hundreds of others to the opening position of the Royal Astra Family’s castle Librarian position, a year later. And, to be fair? He’d only applied because he’d been sure his resume would never have been seen, let alone selected, if only to simply placate his best friend’s excited begging.

He didn’t account for Patton’s connections as the Royal Head Cook to shift that margine of possibility to reach at least being seen. Though Patton chalked it up to the fact that he’d always talked about Virgil around the royal family anyway, long before the position had needed a replacement. It seemed to be just Virgil’s luck that ‘Virgil’ just happened to be a very uncommon name.

The panic attack that followed after he received a letter that his resume had been selected alongside a select few others for further evaluation had been a rough one. Still, he held out hope that his perceived inexperienced youth would save him, the stress and responsibility of such a serious job couldn’t be trusted with some ambitious kid like him, could it?

And, besides, it’s not like Patton’s constant praises carried that much weight, right? That's just how Patton was, a personified ball of sunshine! It was why Virgil was never surprised to hear Patton mention the royal family and staff by name on accident, or mention a silly story involving them in private, he’d clearly become close to them as the Head Cook. Though, the more he thought about it, he realized that.. Well, it’s not like the royal family had known Patton as long as Virgil had. Patton could be too trusting, and tried to see good in everyone, and well, perhaps the royal family trusted his judge of character over just simple skills. And wasn’t it just peachy that Virgil was lifelong best friends with said ball of personified sunshine? (Not that he’d ever trade their friendship for the world, never. It was just Virgil’s problem that he could never seem to tell Patton no, huh?)

Eventually, a nerve wracking week passed before Virgil finally had his answer in the form of an acceptance letter hand-delivered and an accompanying uniform and granted permissions to traverse and move into the castle grounds, all ordered and signed by King Thomas himself.

Apparently, his suspicions over Patton’s influence had indeed won out.

Three days later, Virgil finds himself silently saying goodbye to the home he’d made on his own, not as terribly forlorn over the loss as he thought he’d be. The small cottage he’d been renting didn’t feel much like home to him, anyway, not like a library did. Still, there was a longing to hide from the large change crashing into his life, and thrice he’d hid under his covers and cursed his weak will against Patton’s puppy eye’d pout. Eventually though, he’d talked himself out of his panicked haze, just in time for his first shift the following day.

“I can’t believe I let Pat talk me into this.” The ravenette grumbled as he leaned to the side. Using his weight and momentum to shift the sliding ladder he was perched on, he slid closer to the next book he’d been reaching for.

“Become the castle’s new Librarian! It’ll be fun, he said! It’ll help sooth my anxiety to work with even more books and even less people, he said, the head cook who works with at least 20 other staff each hour to maintain a steady meal plan for the entire castle staff daily!” The little librarian huffed to himself, resignation seeping out with each controlled breath.

His first day hadn’t been an easy one, and though he hadn’t expected it to go smoothly, he certainly hadn’t expected it to become such a mess. It wasn’t his first time working as a librarian, but leave it to good ol’ Virgil to let life make his days as eventful as possible!

From the moment he woke to the time he had his lunch break, not that he would actually willingly take a break nor need one yet, the day had been.. busy, to put it lightly.

It’d been storming when he woke, and though he was on time to get ready and leave, he’d only realized that his umbrella had broken the month prior. It had left him to make a twenty minute dash in the pouring rain when he found no other options.

He was plenty grateful for a bathroom stationed just inside of the library building entrance, where he hurriedly rushed inside to change out of his soaked attire. He’d been smart enough to pack away his official Royal Librarian uniform into a water resistant bag with a few additional dry essentials, and let his common clothes get soaked instead.

In a short six and a half minutes, Virgil was changed and mostly dry, though there was little he could do about his damp hair aside from comb his fingers through it. With his wet clothes packed away, he made it into the library on time to begin his first very long shift.

He’d already been sworn into secrecy when it came to occasionally dealing with the royal family’s history and artifacts in the future, and with his first and hopefully one of very few ever meetings with King Thomas out of the way, he was officially the new Royal Librarian. And now, also the only. As he was told in no certain terms that the last had retired and fucked off into obscurity before anyone had realized that the library had been left in disorganized chaos.

The old coot had apparently made his own system for everything, and hadn't bothered to write any of it down. From sorting sections to assigning books to genres, none if it clear and often very, very unorganized.

Virgil’s first big task was to comb through the entire damn building and use a new system, one that made sense. He was to reorganize every book and every section, using the appropriate genres and sorting. This way the royal family could actually functionally use the library and not waste time sorting through chaos.

This was where Virgil found himself three hours later, on the verge of a minor mental breakdown as he’d just barely sorted an eighth of the books on the main library floor into the Dewey Decimal system.

He’d had plenty of empty tables at the beginning of his journey, and right now every single one had some few stacks of books on each, labeled accordingly. Aside from his muffled ranting and the pattering of rain, the library was relatively silent.

It was odd, being alone in such a gigantic library. It almost reminded him of home.

He paused for a brief moment, having set down the final few books taken from the bookshelf he’d been working on. He’d gone through just one row of 6 bookshelves, and had 7 rows left to go, and that was just barely counting putting books back in the previous shelves as he went. A whine left him as he realized just how long this project was going to take.

“Fucking fuck.”

Somewhere between the second row and the third, Patton had stopped by to check in on Virgil. He found him hard at work sorting the fiction section on the left side of the building, tables half forgotten as Virgil attached unobtrusive non-damaging number labels to each and every book. Stacks of books lay carefully placed on the floor against each shelf, seperated by label and lack of label.

“You already look so at home, Virge!” The head cook whisper-shouted, though the sentiment was not necessary as the only other being in the library was the librarian himself.

“Yeah yeah, hush you. I’m a bit too swamped for ‘I told you so’s at the moment. So, what's up?” Glancing up at the taller man, Virgil briefly noted a small package wrapped in cloth was held in his hands.

“Can you spare a minute to eat?” Patton giggled, but Virgil knew better. He’d known Patton since they were kids, it wasn’t a question. Or a decision to be made. With a sigh, he placed the book he was holding in its place before turning to the cheery cook. “Yeah, I can.”

“How’s the kitchen today?” He asked lightly, having eaten the light meal quickly in order to get back to sorting. Patton hadn’t commented, nor had he been shooed away when Virgil began sorting again. He contently sat out of the way to finish his own lunch, his original goal having been accomplished.

“Oh! It’s going great today, honestly. Not too many mishaps from the newbies today either, so that's a bonus! And well, you know, making mistakes is in human nature but, they’re learning so quickly, I’m so proud of them! They’ll be taking my place by fall, just you wait and see! And, well, Roman stopped by earlier to swipe some snacks for Prince Logan, his brother, and himself. You know, the usual.” Patton chuckled, and if Virgil had looked, he’d seen the besotted look Patton always had when he talked about the head knight of the prince, he’d seen it a hundred times and was bound to see it a hundred or so more.

“Oh, speaking of,” Virgil butted in playfully, “I’ll finally get a chance to meet this knight and shining armor you’ve been swooning over for over a year now, huh?”

He watched Patton’s freckled face flush bright red, sputtering and then coughing on his mouthful of food. Virgil just cackled delightedly, stepping over to give Patton a few hard pats on the back to be sure his friend didn’t choke.

He laughed again when Patton gave him a pout and a soft “You’re so mean to me, Virge!” Eventually Virgil was able to placate Patton with a gentle hug, and the cook was sunshine and smiles again.

A finished lunch break later had Virgil finally sending Patton off, back to the warm bustling kitchens in the main castle building while he moved on to the next portion of his task.

He quickly found the steady back and forth rythme soothing. Pick a few books up, put them away. Pull a few books out, sort it by number as per their section of genre, set it in the right place. It was a blessing to find that there was just enough of a consistency to the previous plan that he could find up to five to six books in the same category in a row, and each set of books could be similar in subject, usually ending up just one section away. Often was the wayward book that found itself out of place, though he had assumed that these were often books just placed back haphazardly considering their subject patterns.

Often the most scattered and random books had ended up being of a few select categories. Without fail, he found that it would end up being a book on Space and Astronomy and/or Mathematics, in-depth Anatomy of Plants and Animals, young adult Fantasy Adventure novels, or Horror novels. It was.. Sort of odd, how there had been no section for each and all of these books, and yet there were so many evenly scattered. Perhaps that had been on purpose then, not haphazardly placed. But why?

Too busy to think deeply about it, he designated spots fitting each book type, and decided he’d figure out what he’d do with the puzzle later.

It was 6 pm by the time he’d finished the fourth row, and Patton had stopped by briefly to check on his best friend. He watched Patton’s merry expression drop some, concern seeping in as he took in his best friend’s progress.

“It’s almost 6:30, Virgil. Have you had another break yet?” He asked, watching his best friend continue moving back and forth. “Aren’t you tired? It’s been a little under 12 hours at this point, kiddo.. dontcha think it’s time to call it for the day? I mean, you’re already halfway there!”

“Library hours, at least Librarian work hours, don’t end till 9. And yeah, I guess I’m a little tired? But I’m in the zone, Pat. You know how I get when I’m in The Zone. If I stop now, who knows how long it’ll take me to finish sorting the other half?” Virgil rambled, half distracted and still trying to keep a vice grip on his concentration. “And besides, King Thomas said he’d be checking in on me tomorrow.”

“But Virge, you know he doesn’t expect you to have it done in one day. Thomas isn’t like that! That’s why he gave you a whole week to settle in, so you could move into the Library’s living quarters-which you haven’t done yet, might I add!- and get the library situated.” Patton stood stiffly, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. Virgil was as stubborn as he himself was when his mind was made up.

“Look, Pat.. just, I’m sorry. You know I hate to worry you. I’ll try to stop at 10, go home and get some rest, and tomorrow i’ll move my stuff into my new home here. And, i’ll take a break from sorting for a few hours. Okay?” Virgil reached out, taking Patton’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He let Patton pull him into a tight hug, and didn’t resist when Patton briefly rubbed at his tense shoulders.

“Okay. Just, take care of yourself, Virge, okay? If I find out you stayed out an hour later than 11 pm, you’re gonna be in big trouble mister!” Patton giggled, lightening the mood the way he knew how.

“Yeah, yeah, hear ya loud and clear, Dad.” He watched Patton beam at the nickname, and moments later he watched Patton disappear behind the library’s main entrance door as his friend left him be, reassured. Virgil gave a heavy sigh, looking down guiltily at the stray book clutched in his hands.

“Let’s just hope ‘trouble’ just means a week of disappointed reprimands like last time…”

Hours later, Virgil’s head jerked up from his sorting as a father clock somewhere in the library dinged, signalling 10 o'clock. Biting his lip, he walked to the front doors and examined his options. He found he could lock the library from the inside, and pulled down the shutters. Briskly, he moved to cover each large window with their thick drapery, finding the adorning cloth thick enough to keep the low artificial light from seeping out. He dimmed the inner library lights so the library looked closed, but otherwise the building was still functioning from within.

Unless someone else had keys to the doors of the library, no one would know that the librarian was still stationed and working within. No one could see out, and more importantly, no one could see in. Which meant that Virgil was safe from Patton’s wrath if the Cook came to check on him, temporarily at least.

“Fuck, Patton’s gonna be so mad..” He muttered to himself, leaning against the librarian’s desk with a deep sigh. He’d briefly admired the beautiful desk earlier in the day, from the intricate carving to the beautiful dark mahogany. It would serve him well in the future, he hoped, after the thorough ‘grounding’ he knew he was going to get from Patton.

He shook his head to free his thoughts. There was no sense in getting in trouble and feeling guilty about it if he didn’t do anything to learn from in the first place. It was time to get back to work, and if he was lucky, he’d finish the main body of the library by the time his next shift started. Then, he could try and play it off, like nothing had ever happened, he’d just keep Patton out of the library till tomorrow to hide his finished work.

11 pm came and passed as he worked, and when he looked next at the clock, he found it was nearly 4 am. Tired but determined with only one row left, Virgil trekked on with a new vigor. All-nighters weren’t anything new to Virgil, not in the slightest. He was a creature of the night who rarely got a full night's rest to begin with. And sure, it was rare he worked his body so hard and for so long, but fixations were hard to break once in The Zone, it’s not like he could feel it past the hyperfixation haze.

Patton had often told him off for it when they were young, but as time passed they’d come to realize that’s just how Virgil was. Laying down did nothing to lure his mind to sleep on even the tiredest of nights if his insomnia had something to say about it. Better that he used the extra time to be productive, rather than spend 6 hours tossing and turning in bed, numbers and thoughts crowding in his head, and only getting up more restless than before. Patton often just tried to ease the aftermath if he could help it.

Sliding the last book into place was like sliding a final puzzle piece into a massive puzzle. The triumph of accomplishment had never felt so good, not like this.

Though, he quickly found himself aimless not 10 minutes later, seeking errors to fix and lost books to give a home. His brain wasn’t ready to let go of it’s fixation just yet, but as each second crawled by, he found himself recentering into the real world.

His body ached, and he was exhausted. His stomach gnawed at him weakly in hunger and his eyes watered from staring unblinkingly for so long. He eyed the chair behind the librarian’s desk, his desk now, he reminded himself.

“Screw it.. The Library’s sorted enough, I've got the rest of the week to make it perfect. A ten minute nap won’t hurt, right..?” He huffed to himself as he pulled the window curtains open one by one. Shuffling over to the main library doors, he unlocked them and raised the shutters. Soft morning sun rays fluttered into the connected windowed hallway just beyond the doors. He smiled at the tiny beauty of life, spotting the main library windows letting in the same comforting, dappled light.

Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, he plopped into the chair at his desk, finding it soft and comforting. Leaning forward, he rested his head on his arms, and under the fluttering morning light, succumbed to sleep’s gentle embrace.

Unknowing of the rude awakening that was soon to come.

Chapter two

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