#someone sliced me right down the front through my corset and dress | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 3 years

Text

Fury of Their Scales

m.yoongi / reader

genre: dragon!au, wyvern!yoongi, human/herbalist!reader,

warning(s)!!: isolation/alienation, mentions of war, injuries/blood/violence, dragon boy yoongles is stuck in a trap bc he’s dumb, y/n is so sO pure, protective dragon yoonyoon, villagers physically bully y/n a lot :(, unfair situations, y/n takes so much shit like a champ she deserves an award, dragon boy is a dragon for the first half of this (sorry, not sorry), don’t be scared there's actual humor and wholesome stuff too :D, slow burn (kinda)?

w.count: 17.7k

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: T]

synopsis: a world of dragons, demons, devils, gods and ghouls- humans were of small number. you’ve lived on the outskirts of your human village in the woods ever since you could remember. living alone in a small cabin with nothing but woodland trees, ponds, lakes and animals was like a small paradise- with the occasional bump in the road. as someone who’s studied and experimented with nature to make all sorts of concoctions- your home was ideal. it didn’t matter that your village didn’t like it or that they rejected your life of medicine. what did matter, however, was the dragon stuck in a trap not too far from your home that you just discovered.

a/n: i literally haven’t sat down to write fanfiction in over a month bc my brain was fried and i got sucked balls deep into a fandom of an anime i dont even watch (yet). It took me three hours to edit this bc i pass tf out, pls be easy on me LOL

A shrill whine echoed through the woodland area. Bouncing off trees, echoing in caves, spooking off wildlife of rodents and critters that crept along the ground with far too many spindly legs. Rustling in the wind, entangling with the leaves that blew and then erupting when a campfire crackled, settling in it’s burning pit of wood and stone.

-x-x-x-

You shot awake in bed, the morning light peeking in through your bedroom window that was covered in a beginning to tear curtain. You breathed out a heavy sigh as you flopped back down onto your mattress that squeaked at your movement. You really should be getting a new bed sometime soon. This one was old and did nothing for your pressure points or back while you slept. What was the point of a good night rest when you wake up feeling like you just wrestled a bear and lost?

You looked at the small streaks of light that soaked into your wooden home as you closed your eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again before getting out of bed. You threw your covers off, your nightdress coming down to your knees as you started to stretch. Your arms reached above your head as you stifled a yawn.

You could hear the birds outside and from the way the sun angled into the room through the drapes, you assumed it was still fairly early. You hated that you could never seem to sleep until later into the morning, but you couldn’t help the fact that when you're up, you're up for the day unless you’re ill.

Walking to your window, you drew open the curtains and immediately shut your eyes. Peeling them open slowly in a squint, the morning light was brilliant until you finally adjusted to the sudden light difference. Letting the morning sun warm your room with sunspots, you started to change.

Tossing away your nightdress, you changed into your everyday- not at all flattering- attire.

A dress of a faded moss green skirt and a stretched, overly used leather corset around your waist that tucked around the white top half of your dress. Tying your hair back you slipped on some socks.

Leaving your room, you immediately dashed to your fire place where a kettle of day old water hung from the single hook inside the top of the pit. Striking a match, you ignited the wood that had not yet been completely burnt and noted to refill the kettle with fresh water later on- too lazy to do it right off the bat.

You walked around your small, cabin home jumping place to place with small tasks or chores that took a mere few seconds to complete to start your day off waiting for your kettle to whistle with hot water. When it finally did, you carefully took your kettle with a cloth wrapped around your hand and set it on your countertop. Grabbing a clay mug from your cupboard (that you made on your own to your pride), you dropped in a few leaves from a box of herbs you had and poured the steaming hot water over them.

“Alright,” you assured yourself as you left your kettle to cool off again. After a handful of minutes, you took your mug and sat yourself at your small table that was made for two- but only occupied by yourself. You lifted open your window and let out a breathy sigh at the fresh air. You placed a small plate of grain and food on the open window seal and soon enough, birds were flocking to it to grab something.

“Good morning you guys,” you chuckled as you basked in the small moment of peace before the day ahead. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there in your spot of sunlight and birds with the occasional squirrel, but after the sun had shifted just enough to get you to notice, you deemed it long enough.

Getting up, you set your mug into your sink and took the plate that was previously filled on the widow as you walked to your door. Grabbing a white cloak to tie around your shoulders, a small gathering basket and placing a pair of worn down, brown boots on, you were leaving your home. Grabbing the key that hung on a nail beside the door, you locked your cabin door behind you and placed the key around your neck.

Taking a list from beneath the small cloth in your basket, you started reading aloud to none other than yourself. You kept yourself company, that’s the only way you stayed somewhat entertained in your lonesome cabin.

You lived on the outskirts of your village, having been born in this cabin and growing up in it even when your parents left you there as a child. You found out quickly how to grow and live independently and by now it was just second nature. Sure, you had your rough days of work and weather, but it was manageable. At least you didn’t have neighbors that stressed you out- only the occasional bird, bat or squirrel that got stuck in your chimney that you had to chase out.

“I need to find some goldenrod for sure,” you muttered. “I’ll need to make sure not to grab yarrow in its place; although, I guess it wouldn’t be all that bad if I did.” Your knowledge and interest in medicine was also another reason why you never branched further into the village as a person. All they did was ridicule you for not following the status quo. “I need honey too, but I’d have to go to the village for that unless some merchant runs into me while I’m out.” You sighed, “I doubt it. I’m never that lucky.”

You started your way off, passing by the small well in your front yard and bypassing the small station of firewood you had yet to cut and move. A pile of logs sat sliced into thirds under a tarp beside your front door. The hardest part of your life was building the muscle and stamina to cut your own firewood, not to mention swinging and actually hitting the wood with your axe instead of magnificently missing it and getting the blade stuck in the stump you used to chop on.

As you walked away from your cabin, the trees becoming thicker as you followed the dirt trail further into the woods, you started looking around. Scanning for any signs of any herb that you may want to snag along the search for the days main goal: goldenrod. You started off the path and began walking between trees and away from small holes from rabbits and moles so you don’t jeopardize your ankles and fall.

You were searching for a while as you were knelt into the grass, scanning leaves and flower petals to identify what was what when you thought you heard something. From somewhere beyond the trees, past the wall of foliage, you though you heard a sort of... whining? Or maybe howl?

A sense of deja-vu washed over you. Had you heard this whining somewhere before? Was it a wolf cub or maybe a bear? No, it sounded too rough to be either of those. A cry echoed after a moment of silence and then the whines from before returned shortly after.

A part of you wanted to forget about it and leave the area immediately. Something about the way it seemed to bend and mold the air around you with it’s unfamiliar cry made your skin crawl. However, the bigger part of your heart that knew that the cries you were hearing were cries for help made you think otherwise.

Rising to your feet, you tucked your basket to your side closer in a pitiful sense of self-comfort as you made your way towards the cries. The trees became less dense and soon you were approaching a small opening. You could hear the sounds of metal clanking together along with the loud cries and whines. Perhaps an animal had gotten snagged in a trap? If that were the case, you wondered if you should free it or not.

Although you felt bad for the animals in the moment, you knew that they were someone else's food source or something important to help somehow; whether it be a pelt for warmth or their claws for weaponry. You had no right to free an animal that wasn’t your prey- so you decided that if it was an animal you’d leave no matter how much your heart ached.

When you could see the clearing ahead, you slowed your footsteps and slowly crept up behind a tree to peer around it. As you did so, your breath caught in your throat as you gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from choking and making a sound. You spun around, nearly dropping your basket from your arm as you hid behind the tree you had peered around and pressed your back firmly to it’s trunk.

Your breath shuttered, shook, halted and repeated. You couldn’t remember how to breathe properly as you tried to be as quiet as possible. Around that tree trunk and indeed caught in a metal trap was no animal.

It was a dragon.

You racked your brain trying to be reasonable. Perhaps it was just a trick of the mind? A hallucination? Maybe the leaves you boiled earlier that morning were hallucinogenic and you were simply too careless about what you were brewing in your morning daze?

You peered one more time around the tree trunk to verify and your entire body ceased up again at the same dragon from the first time you saw it. You didn’t hide immediately this time. You stayed hidden, tucked away but examined the situation the best you could; even if every orifice of your body was telling you to run.

You weren’t too well versed on the dragon race, but this particular dragon you had read about before in a book once- but only briefly. A wyvern you think it was called.

The creature was large, as tall as the trees- one not quiet fully grown yet you imagined. Or maybe it was because the creature was folded in on itself, crouched to the ground as it tugged on it’s trapped legs- so it appeared smaller en masse.

A large bear trap had sunk it’s sharp metal teeth into the scaled leg of the mighty creature. With nowhere near enough space to try and fly away- trap attached or not- and no room to try and back away, shake it off or even break the chain that held the trap in place, the dragon was ultimately stuck in whining pain.

It’s scales were that of ashen red; the color of a fine blush, but rough to the texture like brick. It’s arms were large and folded inwards, the talons of one digging into the earth to steady itself and the other crawling at the trap futility. It’s long tail was curled around it’s back and the length of it disappeared behind the tree line where you suspected it was barbed at the end. It’s head was long, thin and had three horns- one on the end of its nose and two on either side of it’s head.

Needless to say, it was a wonder to witness. A dangerous wonder, but a wonder no less.

Dragons were a very rare sight around human territory. They hated the human race and for reasons that you couldn’t blame them for. Years ago, you had read about a war- if you could call it that- that took place between human and dragon.

The humans in their invincible high from all sorts of discoveries and conquering of other places had decided to set their sights on the dragons. If they could tame the mighty beasts of the skies and elements and use them as war creatures- the people would reign over all. That’s what they had assumed.

They had no idea just what they had signed themselves up for when they marched into Dragon Country. The doom that took place was instantaneous for the first brave and foolish group of marchers and it only got worse.

A group of nearly 400 men were slaughtered at the hands of just a few dragons who were the first to be approached as mere animals. Burned alive, crushed, eaten, slashed into ribbons- the humans stood no chance in hell.

Then, the dragon’s returned the favor. If the humans wanted war, so be it. The dragon race was smart, far smarter than the average genius human being. With magic on their side along with their mighty strength and numbers, they took to the Humanlands and burned it to the ground.

This pathetic war lasted no longer than a week and nearly one-third of the human population was blown away from the very beasts they had wanted to tame and use.

The two had long since left each other alone, no one wanting to repeat the past. Humans fear dragons due to the stories- that was unavoidable. However, dragons live long and hate even longer. They can hold a grudge longer than that of a devil or demon.

That is what shook you to your core as you gazed at this one single dragon caught in the woods of the Humanslands. Why was it so far from Dragon Country? Had it wandered here because of boredom? Perhaps it was banished by the king of dragons you had known about. Or maybe this dragon was just foolish. You weren’t sure and you less sure if you’d stick around long to find out.

The creature was a terror and the snarls and whines and cries that came from it were something that would surely haunt you in the middle of the night when you hear the wind howl. Regardless of that however, you felt pity for this dragon.

As of the moment, it had hurt no one and you had heard no word of any dragon attacks. It was just stuck, injured and helpless. Before you could muster up the conscience to quietly leave, you stepped forwards just an inch and knocked a small rock from its place on a tree root.

The dragon’s head whipped up, it’s sensitive nose finally catching a whiff of a different scent that wasn’t of Woodland descent now that it wasn’t as preoccupied with the stupid bear trap.

It’s black coal eyes narrowed as it’s mouth opened to show its rows of white fangs that could easily devour you. A violent shiver ran through your entire body as your eyes connected with its own. You were discovered and there was no going back down.

Swallowing the lump in your throat felt like a massive stone was lodged inside. You took a few more shaky steps forward, showing your entire body to the beast. It’s winged arms lifted in defensive as it’s head lowered; it’s chin becoming level with the ground and still growling. You could see plumes of steam coming from its mouth due to it’s hot breath.

It was clear this particular creature wanted nothing to do with you- a human- and you couldn’t blame it. You didn’t want to be here either. This situation could end with you getting killed, but your morality and ability to sympathize with the weak or injured was larger than the risk of your safety.

Lifting your arms to show you had nothing on you, you started to enter the small clearing.

“Easy,” you hushed softly as the dragon snapped it’s jaw just one time in warning. You gulped again, daring to take another stupid and foolish step. “I want to help,” you said. Earning another growl in response didn’t shock you.

It took several minutes, a handful of snaps to stay away, constant growls and steam filled breaths for you to even get within arms reach of the trap. You were sure that if you made one wrong move the creature would bite you in half- but you had to take a chance.

You think the dragon knew this too. You were the closest thing to an escape it would probably find that wasn’t going to go and tell other humans to capture or kill it. It would cooperate until it was free, you were sure of that- but after? You could only imagine.

It’s winged arms were around you, shading you from the sunlight that the tree’s didn’t cover as your fingers brushed the cool metal of the trap. As you eyed it you wondered why someone would make such a large trap in the first place. It seemed far too large and frankly a bit overkill for a just a bear trap.

You look over your shoulder to see the head of the dragon that was the size of your body staring down at you just above your head. You swallowed for the nth time that morning in nervousness.

“I’m going to try and release it,” you say. “It’s going to hurt.”

You carefully pulled the sleeves of your dress up as you curled your fingers around the thick metal teeth. The scales of the dragon were broken and destroyed as the trap dug into it’s reptilian-like skin.

Blood had already begun to stain the metal. The trap’s teeth were warm- warmer than the rest of the trap due to the dragon's blood being so much hotter than an average animal or human. It’s hot, like steamed bathwater, and it steamed the metal to warm your hands almost uncomfortably.

You took a breath before you started to pull your arms away, fingers aching from pulling on the teeth to try and open the trap. You had been thankful in the moment that you did indeed chop your own firewood because it built up some bit of muscle in the grand scheme of things. The trap began to give and slowly creaked open bit by bit. The dragon’s coal black eyes widened a fraction as it started to wriggle it’s leg.

“Stop moving,” you hissed instinctively. If it thrashed too much, you could loose your grip and then it would just clamp down on it’s leg again. With a whining and grunting mixture of sounds, you soon pried it open enough to where you were almost certain the creature could free itself. “Okay,” you huffed in endurance as you held it open, “move!”

The dragon was quick to rip it’s leg out of the trap and send it, and you, off the ground. The rapid motion tore you away from the trap, the metal scratching your fingers as you fell to your ass and then onto your back in the dirt as the trap snapped shut again away from you. It fell to the Woodland floors empty and bloody as you hissed on your back.

You pain and breathlessness were soon replaced by fear and anxiety when you felt the dragon you had just freed hover over you. It’s taloned, long, winged arms were on other side of your body and it’s hind legs- one of them being the proffered injured one that still bled over it’s brick colored scales- were perched like it was ready to pounce.

It’s nostrils were hovering above your chin as it’s eyes bore dangerously into your own.

This was it. You were going to die, you were almost certain of it now.

The dragon huffed as it opened its mouth. Small licks of fire fanned across it’s tongue in the dark cavern of it’s fang lined mouth and steam pushed from it’s nostrils like a chimney that hadn’t been opened to let out the smoke of the fire in it’s hearth.

You were petrified, frozen in fear and weren’t even capable of breathing. All of your senses were focused on the threat of death inches away from you and you knew that no one would know that you died. No one would find it odd that you weren’t in the village like you were every few weeks or so. They wouldn't find it strange that your cabin was abandoned. And you were certain that they would not conduct a search for you- you didn’t matter to them in the long run.

You were going to die and you were going to do so alone and your body would stay alone until the earth reclaimed it in it’s soil.

The dragon only then opened its mouth further, roared into your face and then sprung off you. It plunged into the tree line, knocking down and busting through the trees and tearing up the soil beneath its claws and talons as it escaped. Running from you and leaving you alive.

“What,” you breathed as you soon let out a strong, almost painful, burst of air that had been held and contained in your chest. Your heart beat strong like it would burst straight from your chest into the sky. You weren’t sure how long you lay in the dirt just trying to regain control of your body that had been previously paralyzed.

When you did manage to pick yourself up- albeit pathetically- you grabbed your discarded basket once again and rushed home.

“No more outside,” you declared to yourself in the clearing of trees and the one bloody trap left behind.

-x-x-x-

Despite the events of the day behind you, once your heart calmed itself and you were able to finally rationally think again instead of assuming you were at death’s door, your mind would flutter back to the dragon and it’s injury.

As you carried in buckets of water from your well or logs of wood for your fireplace, you worried. You felt silly worrying over such a mighty and strong being, but you couldn't stop that cloud from covering your mind. You wondered how it was doing or if it made its way out of the Woodlands- only briefly thinking about the damaged and torn or uprooted trees in its wake.

You went to bed that night far earlier than usual. The blanket of black had not yet completely enveloped the sky of deep orange and red. However, maybe the early bedtime hadn’t been a bad idea, considering you were awoken in the middle of the night anyway.

It was a small noise in the distance. A sound like the padding of paws of a dog running on wood or horse clops on cobblestone. Small and forgettable, but almost irritating and grinding on the nerves of the listener.

Crawling out of bed almost at zero energy levels from your previous encounters, you shook your head to try and shake the sleepiness away. Trudging to your door, you cracked it open to try and see if it was some foxes scraping in the glory of midnight or maybe some critter getting into trouble. Instead, when your door opened, the sounds of an eerily familiar growl filtered through the air.

All tiredness from before flew away as you shut the door harshly and grabbed your cloak to throw over your nightdress. You rushed to your table to grab your glass covered lantern and lit it before blowing out the match and tossing it. Going back to your door you threw it open again and ran out of it. You didn’t even bother locking it, the key still hanging on it’s key as it flopped against the wall from the air of the forcefully shut door.

You ran through the woods, trying your best not to trip on any rocks or sticks. You let out an occasional wince from your bare feet scraping too hard on the dirt or catching on the rough end of a stone. You were going down hill when you saw in the shadows a series of trees uprooted or knocked in two with claw marks on the trunks.

You tried skidding to a stop when the hill started to level out steadily, but there was a fat chance of that happening. You threw open your arms and snagged a tree trunk to forcefully stop yourself from going further. Your legs flew out in front of you far too dramatically for a spontaneous run in the woodlands at midnight as your lantern nearly flew out of your grasp.

You huffed as you heard the same growls you had heard before echo around you. You could hardly see, but you could tell the outline of the dragon in the darkness. You looked around as your lantern had lost it’s flame.

You dug in the pocket you had sewn into your nightdress and struck another match, lighting it again as the fire dimly lit up your face. You were now fully aware you were seen- even though you knew it already to begin with.

The dragon had previously been nipping and lapping at it’s wound with it’s split tongue before you had interrupted it’s silence.

“I knew it,” you whispered as you saw the same dragon from before. You slowly approached it, somehow feeling a little more confident than earlier even though it still growled at you. “Hey,” you soothe, “you know me. Just let me see,” you said as you walked around it’s curled body to it’s injured leg. Lifting your lantern up to see better, you weren’t shocked to see the scales still wet with troves of blood. Just how much blood did dragons have?

If a human bled this much for this long, you were sure they’d be long dead by now.

You carefully set your lantern aside and worked around your neck to remove your white cloak from your shoulders. “Hold still,” you instructed as you started to rather sloppily wrap the wound. You couldn’t let it just keep bleeding and it wasn’t like you had anything else to try and wrap it in- you’d just have to sew a new cloak or buy a new one in the village.

You didn’t even take the time to be shocked that the dragon once again let you do as you pleased in aiding it’s unfortunate situation. In fact, it was silent. There was no growling or snarling, just the sound of hissing when you brushed against the wound or wrapped your cloak around it too tight.

When you finished, you almost pouted at the sight of your cloak already starting to dot with the dragon’s hot blood seeping through the fabric. A loss, yes, but you felt like it was worth it from the relief you felt in your chest at the dragon’s ease of tension.

“If you stay put,” you started, grabbing your lantern again and looking up at the dark eyes of the dragon you were becoming almost familiar with, “I can come back in the morning with something to help you.” The dragon showed no sign of obeying or denying you and you weren’t going to stick around and press the issue.

At the end of the day, it could still very well tear you apart.

You soon left the dragon’s side, the fire of your lantern lighting your way back home. You’d come back just as you said you would and if the dragon was still there, then you’d try and help further so that it can eventually go back home. Even you knew that it had a home somewhere and you were sure that home was missed to some degree.

When you returned to your cabin, you breathed a small sigh of relief when you saw that in your haste of not locking your door behind you- no nightcrawler had snuck in and wrecked your home or stole anything. You walked inside, shutting and tightly locking up behind you as you set your lantern on your table.

Wincing at your sore feet, you wrapped them in cloth and a paste of herbs you had in a jar to help soothe aches and pain before you tucked yourself back into bed. Hopefully, you could stay asleep until the sun rises this time.

-x-x-x-

You were pleased to see that when you opened your eyes again, you could hear the birds and see the sunlight of what looked like late morning. At least you managed to get some decent sleep- although you weren’t all too surprised looking back on the last 24 hours. A lot had happened and to say it was taxing was an understatement.

You were slow moving this morning; another thing you weren’t shocked about.

Trudging around your cabin, you walked around in your nightdress gathering small jars of salves and ointments that could be useful to the dragon in the woods that may or may not still be there with your- no doubt- beyond salvaging cloak.

When you finally got changed, you threw on a dress of a fairly unflattering shade of brown since you may be kneeling on the ground or thrown into the dirt again from the dragon. You wrapped up a new layer of paste for your still sore feet before pulling them into your boots. You grabbed your basket with your half-hazardly thrown together first aid treatments and left your cabin- actually locking the door this time.

It was all a blur on what direction you rushed to last night in your sleepy, adrenaline pumped haze, but you were able to clearly see where your footsteps pressed into the soil. Following your own trail, you carefully descended the hill you flew down the night before and when it all leveled out, you smiled at seeing the dragon sleeping peacefully in the same spot you left it.

“Good,” you breathed happily. You were glad it stayed put- whether it was because you asked or not didn’t matter. You would be able to help more now and nothing filled your chest with more glee than being of use to someone, or rather something in this way. Healing was your passion after all.

You slowly padded up to the sleeping dragon and decided against working on it while it slept. It could spring to life and attack you out of instinct for all you knew. You sat a good distance from its body and in view of it’s line sight for when it woke up you wouldn’t be hidden. You sat on the ground, you're back against the trunk of a tree as you started digging around your basket for the folded and wrapped up herbs you had.

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the tree shaded morning sun plucking, grinding and mixing different herbs together in a cloth draw pouched you had with you. Eventually you started to hear groans from the dragon ahead of you. You figured that if the first thing the creature sees when waking up was you staring at it, then you’d push away any future idea of treating its leg. So, you kept yourself occupied with your herbs until it made a noise of awareness.

A handful of minutes pass when you feel a warm wind push towards you. Instinctively, you look up to see the dragon’s dark eyes looking at you. You smile at the mighty beast, the polar opposite of yesterday’s fear stricken paralysis.

You finished grinding a handful of mint smelling herbs between your palms to sprinkle into an oil you had with you as you swashed it around in it’s cork plugged jar. It was odd, doing your everyday tasks with a dragon for an audience.

When you finished, you stood up after placing the jar back under the cloth of your basket and brushed off your dress’s skirt. You fumbled around to grab the small oval container of salve before you started to approach the dragon.

It didn’t growl and it didn’t snarl. It extended it’s winged arms as it’s head dropped to the ground and it’s leg that was wound with your cloak that was now a deep shade of red was pushed out further for you to inspect. You didn’t want to let it get to your head that maybe, just maybe, this dragon was learning to trust you.

You knew that dragon’s had to have good instincts, so maybe it just realized that you weren’t a threat.

You carefully unwound your awfully tied cloak as you tossed it to the ground in a heap. You were glad to see that the hot blood that had been continuously seeping through brick red scales had finally stopped. You twisted open the container and began to smear the salve over and between the thick scales to the broken skin beneath.

You had expected them to be cooler to the touch like a lizard’s skin, but the scales and skin of the beast was warm like a freshly doused warm towel.

The dragon let you work in peace as it watched you without disruptions or growls. It didn’t even twitch if you touched a particularly pain-sensitive area.

When you finished, you placed the cap back over the salve and looked up at the dragon to address it. “The bleeding looks to be done, but we should cover it with something.” You looked down at your soiled cloak. “We can’t reuse that, it’s already used and we can’t put dried blood back on a wound.” You started to walk away to your basket to place the salve back and maybe take your cloth in your basket to try and at least tuck it into it’s scales or something when something snagged your dress skirt.

Yelping, you spun around and took a moment to process that the dragon had moved it’s winged talon to step on your dress to keep you from moving. Looking up to its face, you saw it looked at you with a calm expression flitting through its eyes and it shook its head.

“What?” You asked more to yourself than the dragon. “You don’t want it to be wrapped?” The dragon only moved it’s head back to look at it’s leg before lifting it’s arm back up and freeing you. You trotted back to the dragon’s leg and squinted at it like he was trying to tell you to.

You gasped at seeing how the wound already looked way better than it had just twenty minutes ago. You saw the damaged scales start to repair themselves as the skin below it’s scaled armor pulled itself back together and became covered again. You looked back to the dragon’s face, relief evident in your expression as you breathed out a sigh of happiness with a hand on your chest like a weight had been lifted off you.

“Oh, thank goodness. I’m glad that the rumors of a dragon’s healing potential are true at least.” You went back to your basket, dropping the container of salve inside as you lifted it back into your arms. “I’m going to be on my way then,” you said. You felt a little bad for leaving so soon, but you had hardly gotten anything down yesterday because of your meeting with the beast, so you were already behind on your own personal tasks.

You still needed to find some goldenrod and if you were honest, plucking some stuff to replace the amount of salve you used on the dragon’s leg wouldn’t be so bad either.

As you left into the thick Woodland, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched. You peered over your shoulder several times and from somewhere you could almost tell that the dragon was watching you from beyond the trees. Dragons had eyesight far stronger than human eyes, so when you felt a stare on your back, you didn’t doubt it.

It was obvious that it couldn’t travel through the Woodlands like you could without plowing down trees in its wake and it wasn’t exactly spacious enough to spread its wings and take off in this section of the woods.

When you left a location you could feel the eyes following you and even heard stomping in the distance of the dragon moving so it could keep you in it’s sights. You wondered briefly why it would be following you around if not for it wanting to eat you, but you just shrugged it off.

It was just past midday when you had finally started to depart back to your cabin. As you unloaded your basket inside your cabin and began to put everything away, you went back outside to gather a bucket of water from your well and you nearly jumped out of your skin from the sounds rustling behind your home.

If the glimpse of horns and wings was anything to go by, you knew that the dragon had somehow squeezed around the trees and followed you back to your cabin. Even closer to human territory. You crept around the cabin and met the dragon face to face for yet another time as you just smiled at it. It seemed relaxed and at ease to your surprise.

“Are you going to follow me around now?” You playfully asked as all it did was let out a small huff. “I know you can understand me,” you teased as you looked it up and down. You felt bad mentally referred to it as ‘it’ all this time, but you had no idea how to tell what this wyvern was. “If you’re going to follow me around girl-” your sentence was stopped short at a small growl. You perched your brow up at the dragon as it glared down at you. “Boy?” You corrected as the unpleasant look left his eyes.

You ticked your head a bit, nodding to yourself.

“Okay, that settles that.”

Throughout your day, you had the company of a dragon sitting in your yard watching you work. When you were inside, you kept the front door propped open with a piece of wood at the bottom and the windows were open so the dragon could still see you and you could still talk to him.

You rambled- a lot. It felt silly to be having a one-sided conversation with a dragon, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want him to feel left out- as odd as it was to say in terms of the beast- so you talked about a lot of things. Your hobbies, the process of making an ointment or what herbs to crush and mix with something to get the smell of berries. How you cooked and what it was; you even offered him a loaf of bread; he denied it (which you were glad for because that would have been an expensive sacrifice).

“I actually live here alone,” you speak aloud from the inside of your house so he could hear you through the open window his head rested next to on the ground outside. “I’ve lived here all my life practicing medicine and plants. I take care of myself decently well considering I live in the Woodlands.” You paused, mixing some broth with a pot of steamed vegetables and spices you had been boiling. “My village doesn’t exactly like me or my studies all that much, so my life here works out in the long run.”

You wondered if he found your babbling annoying since he was just stuck listening to you ramble on about whatever came to mind to keep him somewhat entertained. Spilling your life story wasn’t a thrilling tale, but it was a silence filler. You figured he didn’t mind as much as you may think since he stuck around.

When the day was ending, he made a sound of disgruntled groaning that wasn’t exactly a growl, but a sound of attention. He was apparently announcing his departure. You waved the dragon off through the open window as he left back into the Woodlands and you assumed that this would be the final time you met him.

You would be wrong.

Because that following day as the sun was high at just past midday, there he was again. Steadily, he was visiting you often and he became a normal part of your life.

-x-x-x-

“Hey, Suga,” you called when the dragon came into view from your window as you read in the morning light. You had started calling him by the name weeks ago when you caught him sniffing through your window at whatever you were baking at the time and accidentally sucked a bag of sugar up his nostril. You would have called him Sugar, but he just growled at the soft sounding name, so removing the R was the best deal you could cut him. He didn’t indicate what his name actually was, but you couldn’t just keep calling him ‘dragon’ or ‘wyvern’.

You had some decency.

You shut your book, setting it in the open window as you got up and made your way out. The leg that had been injured weeks ago had healed like it wasn’t hurt in the first place. No scar left behind and no scale left tarnished- it pleased you in all honesty.

Walking to him, he lowered his head to the ground with a small sigh through his nostrils as you brought you hand to run along the scales of his nose and head. It was like having a giant lizard fawn over your touch- or rather that was exactly what it was.

“Good morning, I haven’t seen you in a few days. Did you have a safe trip?” You asked as he just let out a small swooned dragon sound. You had gotten good at deciphering what his sounds and noises meant to a certain degree.

You had noted that every so often he would disappear for days on end and then return- be it a few days to a week or more later. He would travel to Dragon Country and then return to check and visit with you, or so you highly assumed. You knew that was his country and his home, so it was no shock to you that he went back. The shock was that he kept coming back to your cabin in the Woodlands.

You had read dragons were loyal, but this was astonishing. If regular visits with a mighty dragon was your reward for treating and freeing him from a trap, you had no regrets in doing so.

You stopped your ministrations on his head as you turned to go check off whatever chore you had left to do this morning off your to-do list when you felt his nose push into your back. Shoving you playfully forwards, you stumbled on your feet as you turned around with a playful smile and lifted brows.

“Oh you wanna play that way, huh?” You riled as he just huffed steam into your face. Your hair and dress whipped behind you as you just scoffed and jumped at him. The dragon shot to it’s legs and winged talons, skillfully dodging your puny, human lunges.

When you snagged your foot on your dress skirt and was ready to take a tumbling, ungraceful fall to eat dirt, his nose shot under you and caught you before you even made it close to the ground. Hooking your wasit with his horn, he nudged you back up to your feet as you just laughed at him and stroked his nose once again in gleeful thanks.

Suga almost purred- if dragon’s could ever.

As you spent your day with your companion, the sky started to tell you that night was coming and Suga’s departure once again was near. You were out in the yard, sitting on the grass with your basket beside you and all sorts of herbs, a grinding stone and jars and jugs to mix and create with. Suga lay behind you, curled around you like a protective wall, lazing away silently, but not sleeping. Just relaxed.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” You asked as you sprinkled some flower petals into a bottle of clear oil. He whined- a signal for no. “Going back to Dragon Country already, huh?” He huffed in agreeance as you chuckled. He sounded so sulky. “Will you be gone for a while this time?” He made no noise, but his head moved to affirm a yes. Another handful of quiet, dragonless days were in your future it seemed. “Well, be safe on your way. Watch out for traps,” you teased as he moved his body back just a bit for you to teeter backward from where you were leaning against him.

When he left you that night, his nose pressed against your torso as your arms wrapped around it in farewell. He had only started doing that recently- after his last trip back to Dragon Country in fact.

You always felt a little bit colder when he left you like that.

Four days passed and on the morning of the fifth, you had walked out of your house early in the morning with a freshly sown cloak of brick red and an empty basket. You dreaded going into the village for a great many reasons. But you simply couldn’t push it off any further and you needed things that only the merchants and shops in town would have.

It helped that when strangers would come into the woodlands and see your house, they would almost always knock on your door from curiosity and you’d always take any chance to sell something of your creation for a decent amount.

Locking your cabin door, you started your trip. You sighed. Hopefully, you’d be able to get into town and then get out just as quickly.

Suga had returned that day as he approached your cabin. He heard nothing inside and saw no sign of you around. Peering into our windows, you weren’t inside from what he could tell and he pouted at not seeing you. He lay at the side of your cabin, his head lay by your front door as he waited for you to come back.

A few hours passed and his ears picked up on the sound of your footsteps- he had familiarized himself with the sound and weight you put into your steps- as his eyes opened ready to greet you. However, a growl slipped past his fangs as he saw you come from the dirt trail between the trees that lead further out of the Woodlands.

You were shocked to see him back so soon as you wiped some sweat off your brow. Sweat that was mixed with dirt and the smallest dried patch of blood.

You had forgotten that Suga had never seen you go into and back from your village before, so the growl pulled from his throat made you shiver. Your forehead had a small cut about the length of your knuckle and your lip had a split in it. Your dress had grass strains in the knees and up the side of it as specks of dirt spotted your face and neck.

You walked to your door, setting your basket down with a cloth over it, the items you had gotten covered as you walked to Suga and placed your hand on the horn at the end of his scaled nose.

“What is it?” You ask, oblivious that it was your current state of disarray that made him fume with unease. He pulled his horn from your palm as he moved to nuzzle his nose into your torso. You stretched your arm to stroke under his eye as you soothed him. “Suga?” It wasn’t until he refused to move that you realized he was wondering if you were well and then you realized. “Oh,” you breathed, “I’m alright.”

He finally moved away from you and stared at you. You moved to pat his horn once before your fingers went under his scaled chin to lazily rub there. He almost hummed at the actions as you smiled with your split lip.

“This happens every time I go down to the village. Don’t worry too much, Scaly Hide.” As you soothed him, you weren’t completely aware of just how your injures made his dragon blood boil hotter than usual. You had been nothing but kind and vulnerable and truthful to him- a dragon- for no other reason than that’s just who you were as a person. Seeing you all cut up because of others? He found it absolutely preposterous.

As you rubbed beneath his chin, you started talking again. Your voice taking on a small wave of emotion he hadn’t heard from you before.

“I’m almost jealous of you,” you told him. His barbed tail twitched at your words. “I don’t know what the world of dragons is like, so I can’t say whether or not you understand the scorn of others. The prospect of you not having to deal with other humans though is one to be envious of.” Your eyes had a far off look of sadness that riddled his scaled body with pain.

He pulled his head from your hand and moved to nudge it behind you. He pushed your body against the giant wall of scales that is his own body as you started laughing at him. It wasn’t hard to understand an awkward attempt of a dragon wanting to console you. You raised your arms, reaching around what you could as you hugged his neck while his head stayed pushed against your back over your shoulder.

Suga didn’t understand how humans could do this to others of the same race. Dragon’s weren’t just comrades in arms in battle, but they were kin. They were branches of family, dear friends and reliant to each other in a way that didn’t just revolve around war and destruction. Of course, his race wasn’t perfect either with the occasional rouge or traitorous dragon, but those specific turncoats were always taken care of.

He couldn’t understand why humans hurt you, and he didn’t want to understand why. He just wanted it to stop.

When you finally stepped away from him and got back into his line of sight in front of him the look on your face made him feel better. It looked like you were already recovering from all the bad emotions that plagued you earlier. He blew a small huff of steam into your face playfully as you swatted at his horn.

“I’ve been curious,” you started, “I read once that dragons have large quantities of magic and even have a second form they can change into. A human form that is different with each species. Do you have one?” His chin dipped as he let out a noise of confirmation. He did have one, though it had been years, maybe even centuries since he last changed into it. He didn’t even remember what it looked like anymore- he had forgotten about it truthfully.

Your eyes light up in excitement at the discovery.

“You do! That’s so cool!” Your over-excitement almost startled the poor beast. You let out a small sigh of contentment as you turned back to head inside and put your things away and to wash off the grime of your injuries. “I kind of want to see what it looks like,” you mutter, unable to realize that your thoughts slipped out in the form of words that were just loud enough for the dragon to hear.

Suga was quiet as he stood guard outside your home for the rest of the afternoon. The only time you left was when you went down to the small lake nearby and washed up. He was a distance away to keep anything or anyone else from intruding on your privacy. He seemed tense, but also not- even if it didn’t make sense. You tried asking him what was wrong with him, but he just nuzzled his head into your chest without a sound.

When you told him goodnight he left in the same silence he had been sitting in all day. It took a little longer for you to go to sleep because of your worry.

The next morning, you woke up and did what you always did. Same old routine with the label of a different day. Though, when you left your home to go and grab a few pieces of cut up wood for your fireplace, you stopped short. Outside your door, sleeping against the side of your house on the ground was a man.

You hadn’t seen this man before in your life and you were shocked speechless as you looked him over. He was dressed oddly, far different than the men in your village dressed.

His body was lean and covered in small scars around his chest, as shown from the absences of a shirt. A long, black cape hung at his back that he used to lounge on instead of the hard, dirt ground as the collar of it was covered in fur that covered his shoulders and brushed against his chin. His pants were brown and baggy that wrapped around his ankles and displayed his bare feet that were no doubt covered in calluses. Red gauntlets ran from his wrists to his elbows on both arms that were crossed against his bare chest.

You were hesitant to wake him up, but this was your cabin and it was early in the morning. If Suga came by to see another man here, he could get defensive and that was a scenario you really didn’t want to witness.

You knelt at his side, the door to your cabin still open behind you just in case he was hostile and you had to retreat back inside in a rush. You reached out and grabbed his shoulder- his skin was hot. You shook him once- nothing.

“Excuse me?” You squeaked as you shook him again. He groaned as his head nodded off to the side before his chin dipped and you saw his brows moving underneath the fridge of his black hair. You retracted your hand when you felt his shoulders move up and heard him take in a breath of awakening. “Sir, are you alright?”

Lifting his head, his eye were narrow and dazed in sleep as he looked up at you. They were beautiful. They were dark, black and shining like obsidian jewels. They were... familiar? You squinted at him as he opened his mouth.

“Oh,” he lazily breathed out. His voice felt like a breeze of summer wind. “You finally woke up,” he told you as you just started inquisitively at him.

“Isn’t that my line,” you quipped back. “Do I,” you hesitated, “have we met before?” He didn’t answer you as he just sat up straighter and raised his hand to your face. His warm hand ran along your jaw to your lip where he pushed against the scabbed over split in it. You flinched away from his touch as you backed away from him, your eyes locked onto his without any will power to break the contact.

“You said you wanted to see what my human form was like,” he point forwardly told you. You looked him over one more time before returning to his eyes. So that’s why they looked so familiar.

“Suga?” You asked with a pitched voice.

“My name is actually, Yoongi,” he smirked as an unfamiliar heat rose in your cheeks.

-x-x-x-

Yoongi’s visits continued and he often stayed in his human form around you now. He would waltz into your home with you and even started helping you with chores around the cabin. He’s taken to splitting your firewood (although he wouldn’t use your hatchet, he’d just rip the logs in half), and would carry things for you when you were moving to and fro. He’d watch you cook and learn if you offered to teach him something.

You had to admit that having him walking and working around with you as a human instead of a wyvern was a lot more convenient. Plus, this way he was able to have actual conversations with you.

The season’s started to change and the cool breath of autumn began to creep into the air. You would often wonder if Yoongi would stop coming to visit when the temperature drops.

“Yoongi?” You called as he sat in the middle of your floor in front of the burning fire. It was late in the afternoon as you were cooped up inside away from the chilly air. He turned to look over his shoulder at you over his fur lined cape collar.

“Hmm?”

“When winter comes, will you still visit me?” You asked as you took a drink from your warm tea before setting it back down on the table with the book you had been reading before. “I mean, you’re still technically a reptile in basic regards, so you must not like the cold that much.”

“It’s true that I don't like the cold,” he said, “I hate it. It makes my scales rough and then that makes it tough to move around.” You let out a small, nearly silent sigh. “However, if you get lonely, I’ll still come see you.” You looked back at him as he was staring at you completely serious.

The conversation died after that, you not having the heart to ask him to keep visiting. You couldn’t ask that of him if he disliked the cold that much. Surely, you’d be okay without him by your side for a few months, right? Besides, you still had until the first snow to spend with him, autumn had just started after all.

Another week passed and you had once more traveled into the village for some items you needed that you had run out of. It was no shock seeing a trip to the village so soon after the last considering you had been feeding and caring for Yoongi when he came to your cabin. Supplies run a lot faster on two figures instead of just one.

Yoongi had been gone the last couple days, so you assumed he’d be popping by anytime now so you went as soon as you could. To your misfortune, when you returned once again roughed up, Yoongi was sitting in front of your cabin door waiting for you. You had half a mind to sneak in through your bedroom window and avoid him for a bit before you let him in to avoid him seeing your freshly beat body.

Though, you spent just enough time in mental turmoil that he had seen you already.

He jumped to his feet, his face an expression of shock as he ran to meet you half way as you walked to your cabin. You greeted him with a smile just as you always did.

“Good-”

“Hush,” he shushed you as he quickly took the basket from your arms and set it on the ground at your feet. He took your chin between his fingers and started tilting and moving your head around in different angles looking you over. Your cheeks flushed as he stared intently at you. You knew it was just an inspection of your wounds, but it still made your heart pound in your chest. “They hit you again,” he growled.

“Yoongi, it’s alright.”

“No,” he seethed, “it is not.” You swore you started to see small wisps of smoke seep from his nose as he breathed steam. He must be really angry, you though. “They cannot just keep treating you like this just because you’re you.” The hand that held your chin moved to rest on your cheek before gliding up to your forehead- pushing your hair back as his hand moved to rest on the back of your head. “Human’s really are cruel,” he whispered.

You couldn't argue with that.

“I’m already used to their treatment,” you attempt to sooth. The physical pain may still occur with each lashing, but you had long since grown emotionally distant from them. They couldn’t break you any further.

“You shouldn’t be. You should be treated with respect and kindness.”

“Like how you treat me,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Yoongi paused, his hand coming down to rest on the crook of your neck, his long nails running over your pulse point as his eye softened.

“No,” he whispered. “I’m the only one who can treat you this way.”

“What?” You were confused. He treated you exceedingly well and he wanted other people to treat you better too, but not like him? “That doesn’t make much sense, Yoongi.”

“It does to me.”

“Well, then the argument is officially over, huh?” You chuckled as he brought his hand off you and reached for your basket. He let a smirk grace his lips as he turned and led you back to your cabin so he could help you clean your injuries.

As he helped treat and dress your wounds and even helped you make the daily meals, he would nit pick about you going into town. He offered to start going with you, or at least waiting on the edge of the village so he wouldn’t make a fuss in human society with his less than human approach to things, but you denied him.

He wanted to argue with you, to let him do as he wanted, but you just told him that you usually only went on days he wasn’t with you. It was never planned, but things just always seemed to fall in that manner.

In the end, he yielded on the subject; however, before he left that night, he presented you with something. A flower-sized, brick red scale. He placed it in your palm before he left you.

“If something ever happens, you use that scale and call for me. I’ll come flying over as quickly as I can.” You laughed at his over protectiveness. Dragon Country was miles off from here, so it would take him more than a handful of minutes to get to your cabin depending on where in the world of his kind he was at in the given situation. You accepted the scale nonetheless, grateful for his tender gesture.

Everything seemed fine again for time, until Yoongi came to your cabin and saw you prepping to go into the village yet again one morning. He scowled as he watched you pull your red cloak over your shoulders and grab your basket as you pulled on your boots. He hid behind the wall of your home as you locked the door and were on your way.

Yoongi didn’t want you to know he was there following you. He stayed behind you as you walked the Woodlands trail back to society and the entire way he pouted that you had once again not told him you were going.

He stood on the outskirts of the village that brought you harm, sitting high up in a treetop to avoid being seen. He knew going into the village after you would get him caught and he knew that if someone even looked at you strangely, he’d probably snap.

He sat there for a while, just waiting and watching until you finally showed up again, ready to head back home. His back straightened as he almost smiled seeing you unharmed. He was going to jump down and greet you, fess up that he had followed you and let you scold him as he walked you back home, but before he could even begin moving, he stiffened.

Knelt on the tree branch he hid behind the brown, red and yellow leaves that hadn’t fallen to the ground and the black of his cape as a group of boys not much older than yourself ran up behind you. You were just at the tree line of the Woodlands when they had taken your basket from you and shoved you from behind, making you fall to your knees with a cry.

He was technically in Woodland territory, he had no problem showing himself outside of your village.

As you rolled onto your back, ready to shove your way to your basket and scurry away just as you had a million times before, something fell from the treetops behind you. Twisting your body, you only saw a blur shoot past you before one of the three boys was on his ass in the dirt groaning.

Turning back to your front, your mouth dropped open.

“Yoongi?!” One boy had helped the other off the ground as the last was squaring up to start a scrap with this random guy who had popped out of the Woodlands. You wanted to shoot up and tell them to stop it and leave Yoongi alone, but they froze before you could even warn them.

The three of them swallowed as they started taking small steps backward in retreat.

Yoongi had tensed his whole body, fingers curled with his claws out. His face had scales trailing from his cheekbones to his chin as his eyes seeped with complete blackness. It was like his hair was standing on end as he snarled and raised his lips to bare his fangs at the offenders. He was daring them to try him.

Anyone with two eyes, even one eye, could clearly see this man was a dragon and nothing short of a fierce one who didn’t know how to stand down. Not willing to pick a fight with a being of that caliber and not being properly prepared to boot, the trio turned tail and ran back into the village.

It was deathly silent as they retreated and Yoongi’s body seemed to relax as you started at his back. His still shoulders went slack as his squared and ready to pounce stance calmed and straightened back out. His hair settled and the small growls you had heard before disappeared.

“Uh, Yoongi?” You call softly, not knowing if he was going to whip around and start yelling at you or not.

He did not.

He calmly walked to the basket they had taken from you, picking it up and walked back to your side. He set it down before he grabbed your arms gently and started to pull you off the ground. Once you stood on your feet, he straightened out your cloak as you brushed off your dress skirt.

“What are you doing out here?” You asked him, but he didn’t answer you. He just placed his hand on the small of your back, turning you around before he gently pushed you forward to start you off back into the Woodlands and back to your cabin.

No matter how you tried to talk to him, he never answered the entire trip. He was completely silent and he didn’t give you any facial ques on what his problem was either. He stayed quiet, a still canvas all the way into your cabin where he sat your basket on your table then sat himself in front of your fireplace that wasn’t even lit yet. It was like the might dragon was pouting.

“Yoongi, please just come over here,” you plead. You walk behind him as you see his shoulders slump in a silent sigh before he’s standing in front of you again. He turns and looks down at you and instead of an angry look in his eyes like you were expecting, you see them shine with unshed tears. “Yoongi-”

He pushes the words from your throat out of you as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes you face into his warm, bare chest. He lets out a small, shaky breath as his hold tightens around you. The hand on the back of your head holding you to him felt desperate and sad. You reach around him and snag you hands on the inside of his fur lined cape behind his back.

“I was worried about you,” he all but whimpers. “I know I shouldn’t have followed you, but you didn’t tell me that you were going to that village again and I just couldn’t stop myself. I was so relieved to see you unharmed as you were leaving, but then those scumbags,” he cut himself off with a harsh breath. “Does that really always happen to you?”

You nod and give a weak ‘yes’ in reply.

“No more,” he tells you. “I won’t let it happen anymore. I’ll keep you safe and I’ll protect you from them. Even when winter comes, I won’t stop visiting you. I’ll keep coming back, I promise.” You wanted to deny him, tell him not to worry about it since he can’t stand the cold. But, you felt selfish and you wanted him to keep coming back. You wanted him to dote on you and to keep you safe like he says.

“I’ll be relying on you then,” was all you told him. When the moment is past, you pull away from his warm chest to look up at him with a playful grin. “You’re pretty pushy when it comes to my safety, it’s almost cute.”

He shoves you at your jest as he tells you to sit down and go unpack your things. He plops himself back in front of the fireplace, huffing a ball of fire to get it going in a hurry. You weren’t sure if it was the light from the fire or not that painted his cheeks pink.

-x-x-x-

You went without village harm for a month now. Just as he said, Yoongi was at your side at least every other day instead of a few days away at a time. He’d always ask if you were alright or anyone had given you any trouble. He knew when you were lying, he had gotten good at telling apart your quirks, so when you told him you were alright he was always relieved.

The weather kept getting colder and you kept getting more concerned about Yoongi’s choice to go against the cold to come see you as often as possible. You always thought about how to tell him to not come after the first winter snow to help his overall health; you just had to figure out a way to phrase it so that he’d actually listen.

It was one of those nights where you hadn’t gotten to sleep very early with your thoughts, and you had just drifted to sleep. You were somewhere between unconscious, yet aware as you briefly heard something in the distance. You weren’t awake enough to care and you weren’t aware enough to think it was something other than the nighttime animals.

A handful of minutes pass when you’re suddenly ripped from your sleep just as you were equally ripped from your bed. A grip on the back of your nightdress yanked you from your side sleeping position and pulled the fabric against your neck as you choked out a surprised gasp.

You kicked your legs in panic, your blanket hitting the floor of your room as you were pulled off your mattress and onto the floor. Hands grasped your biceps and began to drag you backward. You finally found your voice in the form of small screams and protests. You stumbled from the balls of your feet to your heels as you were pulled backward through your cabin before you were through the front door and on the ground.

Laying in the dirt and covered in goosebumps from the cold night air, you rolled to your back and propped yourself up with your elbows to see who just evicted you from your home. You shouldn’t have been shocked to see a band of men from the village, yet you were. You instantly started trying to scoot backward on your elbows and heels.

They were covered in furs and boots with torches in hand to light their way through the darkness. You looked at them in fear and confusion. What were they doing this far from the village and why were they here at all?

“What are you doing?!” You scream, your heels kicked into the dirt as your nails dig into the earth trying to back you away from one oncoming man, a blond one. You squirmed as one of his feet kicked at your wrist and pushed your back to the ground as he grabbed you by the collar of your nightdress. You whined, grabbing his wrist as you grimaced with squeezed shut eyes.

“You witch,” he accused as you peeked open your eyes. “We’ve let you live close to us, but you’ve gone and made a pact with a demon- a dragon!” Your eyes widened. Is this because Yoongi just popped out of nowhere a month ago when he followed you?

“You’re wrong!” You denied. You had no pact with him. He was just- you paused mentally. Was Yoongi a friend to you? You had been unconsciously thinking that for several weeks, but saying that out loud and admitting it to yourself as well as someone else- friendship didn’t feel like it did it justice. Was the connection you had with the dragon you saved from that trap- the same dragon who snarled in your face and decided not to kill you all those weeks ago- really just a friend? You swallowed.

Your breath lurched in your throat when the grip of your collar was released in turn for the hand to now encase around your throat fully. You gagged for a moment as the blond’s nails burned against your skin.

“Ransack the place!” The man who held your throat shouted over his shoulder. The two other men with him ran into your cabin and your squeezed shut eyes opened. You shoved the man’s hand off you, your neck burning as you pushed against his chest. He fell on the dirt as he groaned.

“Don’t! Leave my cabin alone!” You cried as you scurried to your feet. You didn’t get far before your ankle was grabbed and your leg yanked back. You tumbled ungracefully onto your chest, your nightdress riding up your legs and bum as you felt a weight on your back. The blond was sitting on you as you kicked. He held one of your arms behind your back and his other hand pushed your cheek into the dirt, holding your head down. “Stop it!” You cried into the earth as you heard sounds of destruction in your home.

Glass being thrown to the ground and broken, your shelves being pulled from the wall. You heard doors of cabinets opening and slamming shut after everything was pulled from them. The distant sounds of mess told you they were evening throwing things around in your room. You weren’t sure what they were looking for- evidence? But for what? Your connection with Yoongi to use against you?

“Hey!” One called from inside. “I found something!” Footsteps came back outside and stopped above your head. You were yanked up to sit on your knees- nightdress dirty and covered in small tears and frays of fabric- as the blond behind you snagged a hand in your hair pulling your head to look up. You winced as your eyes instinctively shut in pain before your chin was grabbed in a new hand.

A man stood in front of you, brown hair and accusatory eyes. In front of you, he dangled the scale of Yoongi’s he had given you that you had placed inside of a glass locket to keep it safe. You jolted in the blond’s grip, ripping your chin from the brunettes touch.

“Don’t touch that!” You screamed. The blond restrained you tighter. “Stop! That hurts!” You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

You weren’t sure how long those men kept you outside your home as they continued to trash it. You were less sure how long you were out in the cold, pinned to the ground and jerked around like a toddlers ragdoll.

Stomps to your legs to keep you from crawling or getting up and away. Jabs to the stomach to subdue you just long enough to restraining you as you tried to get your breath back. Knocks to the head to try and knock you out as you kept on fighting back. The cold was starting to get to you, your fingers and toes going numb. Scraps on your knees and elbows from the cold, autumn chilled dirt.

You were on your back on the ground, the same blond over your, pushing your face down as your arms were trapped under his knees that pinned you on either side.

You were close to giving up. You were going to lose your home- you expected them to set it on fire- and you were going to no doubt end up losing your life if this kept up. Would they take you back to the village and execute you? Tears trailed down the side of your face as you chewed on your lip.

This wasn’t fair.

“Yoongi,” you whimpered as your palms pushed into the earth, the dirt and rocks pushing into your skin just painful enough to keep you conscious.

It seemed instantaneous to you. It felt like a whirlwind just formed at the center of your small world as the gusts of wind blew around you. The man above you was blown off as he rolled in the dirt away from your tired, weak, and beaten body. Whimpers of terror rang in your ears from the other men as growling accompanied those whimpers.

Stomping and rushes of heat surrounded you with ignited sparks in the night sky. You managed to push yourself over to weakly roll onto your side and twist onto your stomach to look up at exactly what was happening. You didn’t see anything in front of you other than your cabin and the three men all on the ground cowering from the sight of something.

Your dazed eyes narrowed before you heard another growl and the feeling of something massive standing over you. Coming to a stomping halt at either side of you with distance to spare and to not make you feel suffocated, your eyes widened. You felt more awake now than the rest of the evening.

Twisting to look up, you were met with the mighty, giant form of the wyvern you had freed from the metal trap of men. Snarling with bared fangs and small puffs of fire on his tongue, Yoongi stood over you protectively.

Tears ran down your shocked face without your control at seeing him really showing up at your side when you truly, desperately needed him with you. You felt weak, but before your body could slump onto the ground, something grabbed you.

Another new body had looped their arms under yours to keep your chest off the ground and held you to them. You didn't recognize this person as you looked up at them. Another man, but this seemed far more mystic.

Snow white eyes with no iris or pupils to sit in their seas of white. Illuminated scales of white shone on their cheeks and their ears were pointed and finned. Hair as silver as the moon and skin as tanned as cooper. Was this another dragon? You couldn’t tell anymore; all you knew was that you felt safe in this person’s arms with Yoongi above you.

You slumped against them, your consciousness finally starting to fade on you with the adrenaline running low now that you felt a sense of safety. You couldn’t lose it yet, however; you had to calm Yoongi down. The men had stopped their attack in fear, so Yoongi didn’t need to instigate further.

“Yoongi,” you called weakly against the second dragon’s chest. “Don’t,” you pleaded. There was a small hush before the wind picked up and the stomping that was present before was replaced with harsh footsteps. Yoongi had reverted back to human form as he ran at the blond man who had previously held you down.

Yoongi’s long claws tore and pierced through the shirt fabric of the blond’s collar as he brought him up to his nose, snarling down at him. His fists shook in rage as his body trembled with restraint in your presence. Had you not been there, he was certain he would have killed all three of them without hesitation.

He picked the blond off the ground just enough to make his toes leave the grass as he threw him at the other two. He huffed, steam blowing out of his nose as his face remained angry.

“You ever come back here and I, as Y/n’s personal dragon, will tear you apart,” he threatened. “Now, leave!” He roared as the three men scrambled embarrassingly to their feet and down the trail back to whatever hole they crawled out of.

Yoongi huffed, breathless as he quickly heard your whimpers behind him. He spun around, rushing back to your side as he knelt on the ground beside you and took you from the other dragon’s grasp. He ran the back of his fingers along your cheek as you saw him. His calm, worried face brought you a sense of peace as you knew the trouble had left.

“Rest,” he whispered as you finally lost yourself to the unconsciousness that had been choking you around the throat.

-x-x-x-

You groaned slightly as your eyes cracked open. You were on your back as your lidded eyes were blurred staring up at the ceiling of your room. You were in a haze as you looked into nowhere. Thoughts were muddled in your head as you were aware of nothing for a handful of minutes, still high from sleep and drowsiness.

The sun shone through your open window as you heard the birds outside sing. It was bright- far brighter than you were used to waking up to.

It all came back to you all at once like a punch to the jaw. Memories of being dragged out of your bed, your home, to outside and pummeled until you were weak in the dirt as your home was broken into and wrecked.

Your arms shot up from under your blanket as they threw the covers off and you sat up straight as a rob. You sucked in a deep breath that hitched in your throat from the sudden movement that clouded you with a wave of dizziness.

Your palm moved to push into your forehead as your eyes squeezed shut and you hissed. Cracking them open, you felt something burn into your side like someone staring at you. Looking beside your bed, you weren’t wrong.

Sat on a stool beside your bedroom door was that same unfamiliar dragon with snow white eyes from the night before. You stared back at the unmoving dragon. Was he… sleeping? His eyes were open, but his arms that were crossed didn’t even twitch and his body was still as a corpse. He sat straight up and showed no signs of movement.

Did some dragon’s sleep with their eyes open? Yoongi didn’t, but maybe other breeds did.

“It is a relief to see you’ve awakened,” he suddenly spoke. You squeaked in shock, not expecting him to do- much less say- anything. “It has been a handful of hours since you lost consciousness.”

You looked away from him as you looked down at your lap. You scrunch your blanket in your palms, the same palms that you were finally starting to feel the stinging sensation of when you were thrown to the dirt. The small cuts and scrapes on your knees and legs and arms all started to tingle with an indescribably unpleasant feeling.

“So, that wasn’t just a nightmare after all,” you sulked to yourself.

“It seems that Sire holds a great deal of worry about your condition.”

Your brows drew close together in confusion.

“Excuse me?” You asked, confusion painting around your eyes. This dragon with no expression and no irises with the pure white eyes just stared at you. “Sire? Who are you talking about? No,” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Who are you?” You re-ask, wanting to know this stranger dragon first. He was just sitting in your room watching over you, you figured an introduction wasn’t out of the question.

The dragon brought a webbed hand up to their chest, lowering their head to you in a small bow. You recoiled at such an action. No one had bowed to you before in your life- that was reserved for royals and people of importance. Not someone like you, a Woodlands hermit. The action made a blush fan across your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I am Navia. I work under Sire as the leader of the Dragon Guard of His Majesties palace. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. It is a pleasure, My Lady.” His voice was smooth like the surface of a peaceful lake surrounded by nature. His usage of honorifics only made the embarrassing red cheeks of yours darken.

“Y-you don’t need to address me like that!” You sputtered as you twisted on your bed to slide your legs out of your covers and hang them over the bedside. “Just Y/n, is fine. I don’t need any titles,” your voice wavered in embarrassment as the white eyes of Navia returned to you.

“I do not know if I will be able to address you so casually. It may displease him.”

“You keep mentioning someone; Sire? Who is that exactly?” Navia never got a chance to answer when their was three knocks on your bedroom door before it was opened. The redness in your cheeks was broken and a smile pulled on your lips on seeing Yoongi in your doorway. “Yoongi!” You happily called as he quickly made his way to your bed, kneeling in front of you taking your hands into his own.

“How long have you been awake? Are you in pain?”

“I haven’t been up long, I was just talking to Navia and introducing ourselves. I don’t feel particularly good, but I don’t feel particularly bad either. Though, I feel better than I did if that’s anything to be accounted for.”

Yoongi’s eyes softened at your smile. You talked so easily and so soon after you were attacked so brutally. He wondered where you found the strength to do so. If he was in your position he’d be a pot of boiling rage, but he didn’t sense anything like that from you. Yet, instead he could see the sorrow behind your eyes.

“Navia,” he spoke as the dragon behind him stood at the call of his name. “Give us a moment,” Yoongi’s voice was stern with instruction.

“As you wish, Sire.” You looked at Navia as he left. You looked back down to Yoongi who was already looking at you as if you were the only thing he wanted to look at for the remainder of his life.

“Sire? So, he’s been talking about you?” You quirked your brow as Yoongi’s hand left yours and moved to cup around your cheek. “Yoongi?”

“There is a lot I haven’t told you and there are a lot of things we need to talk about. I didn't mean to lie- to keep it from you, but I just never had the chance to bring it up. Things about me I’ve kept from you.” You remained silent as he spoke no more. You both sat in silence for a while as you gathered your bearing.

Yoongi had taken to tending to you. You showed him once how to properly wrap bandages around wounds, and so he did. He wrapped any wound that seemed painful (which was many to his eyes) before he was helping you off your bed.

“Yoongi, I’m not so hurt I can’t walk myself,” you chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your back to support you. One of your arms clutched at the cape behind him as the other supported your balance on his chest. He held you to his side as he was careful not to rush his steps and trip you up.

“Still, you’re in no condition to be completely independent right now. Allow me to help you.” You almost scoffed at his aid as if you weren’t able to handle yourself, but you did appreciate it- especially when he didn’t need to offer such kindness.

As he helped you out of your room, you were shocked to see not a trashed cabin like you expected, but it was almost completely clean aside from the broken cabinet doors that sat against the wall in a pile. Whatever would have been broken was picked up and things were on the counter and on the table out of the way and where they belonged. A fire was even lit in the hearth of the fireplace.

You looked up to Yoongi. Did he clean it up? He helped you to the table where he sat you down on the chair by the window where you would normally drink something warm. You felt a little bad you hadn’t set out a plate of feed for the birds and critters today- but allowed yourself a pass considering your situation.

Navia was sitting by the fireplace as he watched the two of you. Yoongi moved to sit on the table’s edge- as unmanneristic as it was, it somehow suited him. He was in front of you against the wooden table, his fingers brushing along your cheek that had a patch over it to cover your cuts.

“Where would you like me to start, Scale?” He asked you. Your face deepened when he addressed you like that. Was that his form of a nickname? You shook the thought away as you opened your mouth.

“My cabin, I guess?” You realize you didn’t give him much of a specific answer. “I mean, I was expecting it to be a nightmare, but it’s so clean?”

“That is because I cleaned it up,” he softly told you with a small smile. So, you were right. “The times I have been here, I was familiar with the placements of most of your belongings. Others I admit I guessed, but I couldn’t leave it like it was. You have enough to worry about.”

“Well, thank you for that,” you graciously tell him.

“It was nothing.” You spent a good portion of that day talking to Yoongi where you were. If you wanted to get up and move to take a break from the flood of answers to any question you had, he would help. Navia would walk around and do small chores for you if you were kind enough to ask- or have Yoongi tell him to. The tanned dragon was awfully obedient, yet kind to a fault it seemed.

The shortened days of winter were showing as the sky started to progressively darken. You watched it from the window of the cabin you had been in all day. It had been a long time since you spent all your time inside without much of anything to do. It was relaxing even if under unpleasant circumstances.

Yoongi had handed you a mug of something warm for your throat as you thanked him and took small, cautious sips due to its heat. Yoongi watched you as you watched outside, the occasional chuckles slipping past your lips when you saw birds or squirrels chase each other around.

“Y/n,” Yoongi called as Navia had taken his place back by the fireplace. He was, unsurprisingly, not fond of the cold so he had stuck to the fireplace like glue as often as he could. “Do you want to leave this cabin?”

His question caught you off guard. You lowered your mug to the table top as you looked at him.

“What?”

Yoongi’s mouth was pressed into a thin line as his eyes were narrowed in a veil of anxiousness. In truth he didn’t want you to live here anymore. What happened the night before could very well happen again and what if he didn’t get to you in time next time? What if next time they drag you off or even kill you? He couldn’t handle that. He didn’t even want to think about it.

“If I left,” you chuckled bitterly as you looked back outside, “where would I go? I can’t just live in a cave or in trees.”

“You could come back with me.” There was silence in the cabin’s front room. The sound of the fire crackling and the small sounds from outside your walls. “Come back with me to Dragon Country and live there.”

“That’s impossible,” you told him. “I am no dragon. How could I live there?” You half expected Navia from behind to slip into the conversation and throw in his opinion on the matter. You, a human leaving the Woodlands and running off to live in Dragon Country? There was no way, it was preposterous. “Why take me back anyways?”

“Dragon’s are only able to choose one being to become absolutely loyal to without fault in their lives. We live for years, decades, centuries. The oldest of dragon’s can live for hundreds of human lifetimes, so we are especially picky when it comes to our choice.”

“What does that have to do with me?” You asked.

“I said so before, I am your dragon.” That’s right. You did remember him saying that in his rage the night before. Something about being your personal dragon and threatening the men not to try another attack stunt again.

“So, then-”

“I chose you,” he admitted. You felt your air leave you in silent waves. “Out of all things I’ve met of my years alive, you were the first to treat me kindly without expecting anything in return. You were my first in many things that warmed my being. That is why I want you to come back with me.”

You opened your mouth then shut it again before you shook your head, trying to process his words. You took a shaky breath and looked back to him again.

“Say I agreed, isn’t it too dangerous? I mean, you might be with me, sure, but I’m still just a human woman. What could I possibly do so you wouldn’t have to protect me all the time? Wouldn’t I just be a constant risk?”

“That would not be the case,” he told you sternly. “I would see to it that every dragon be made aware of who you are. Once they know, they wouldn’t dare lay a talon on you unless they’re turncoats.” Yoongi sounded so serious, you almost believed him. “They would treat you better than these humans ever have,” he promised.

“How are you so sure?” You narrowed your eyes at him, challenging his word. He sure sounded high and mighty for proposing something that sounded so risky.

“Because I’m your dragon,” he repeated. You almost groaned and rolled your eyes. You felt like you were running in circles with him.

“What does that have to do with anything?” So what? You get to boss around and rely on a dragon. As legitimately remarkable as that is, you didn’t seem to connect that to your safety in his country.

“Because my Master in question- you- would be commanding the dragon in charge of Dragon Country.” There was a beat of silence.

What.

“So, you’re claiming to be what? The King of Dragon Country? Am I just supposed to believe that?”

“Yes, you are.” He told you with a straight face. There was no sign of lying or hesitation. He seemed so sure and serious of himself that you were questioning yourself of his truth.

“But that’s-”

“If I may,” Navia spoke, cutting you off from behind you as Yoongi shot him a glare for interrupting you. You turned to look at the white-eyed dragon as his tanned skin shone with the fire’s casted light. “It’s wise to know that the King detests liars and lies in general.”

Your eyes widened as you whipped your head back to Yoongi who was still shooting the other dragon a look before he returned his sights back to you.

“Oh my Gods, you’re serious.”

The night concluded a long, well-rounded talk about just who Yoongi really was. Finding out he was a king was one thing, but it was harder to understand that you were now in charge and in command of that king. You felt simultaneously all powerful and powerless.

In the end, you did agree to go back with him; however, under one condition.

-x-x-x-

You sat at your desk in your room, scribbling line after line of ink on a piece of parchment. It had been a week since your ‘unfortunate situation’ as you called it and you were healing well. You fixed your cabin the best you could and moving around like normal again was easier by the day. You could already almost chop firewood again- not that you actually were. You had no reason to stock up anymore.

On your bed was a bag. One that was large and had the flap open to show the contents inside. A few folded dresses and one of your leather corsets that wasn’t completely ruined. Jars and bottles of salves, potions, crushed herbs, flowers, and sacks of roots and leaves. Even your favorite cup and a knowledgeable book about medicine. All neatly packed.

You stretched as you leaned back in your chair and looked out the window to your room. You smiled as a bittersweet feeling fluttered in your stomach.

You looked down at the letter you had just finished as you folded it up and placed it inside of an envelope before writing the name of to whom it would be addressed on the front.

Your windows rattled with a gust of wind outside. You smiled as you got up from your desk and grabbed your bag. You tossed the flap of ti over the bag, the large button in the flap of it looping through a latch to close it securely. You threw the long strap over your shoulder as you grabbed the letter from your desk and opened your bedroom door.

You stopped, turning to look at the room once more. It was clean, bed made and everything neat and tidy. You smiled sadly at your space before you said goodbye to it. You felt silly saying farewell to a room.

When you walked into the main room, Yoongi had already let himself in. He smiled at you when he saw you. Just as you had asked him a week ago, he had left you alone for the last 7 days. That was your condition, even if he grumbled about it. You wanted one last week on your own in your lifelong home- that was all.

He walked to you and grabbed your arm gently before bending to softly push his lips against his cheek. You jolted as you covered your skin with your hand.

“What was that for?” You asked, flushed.

“Simply, because.”

“That is not an answer,” you scowled. “Did Navia come with you?” You asked peering around his back to look.

“Of course he didn’t. I don’t need an escort.”

“Of course you don’t,” you giggle. You walked around your cabin, running your fingers over the surface of your counters, your fireplace’s bricks, your dining table and around the window frames. You took everything into your memory even though this was the only home you ever had. Maybe that was why you felt like crying.

“Are you unwell?” Yoongi asked, coming up behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders. He could see how hard this was for you even without you looking at him directly. He knew this was his selfish wish, but if you really wanted to stay he wouldn’t drag you away.

“I feel like I'm homesick, but I haven’t even left yet,” you chuckle as your eyes stung. One of Yoongi’s hands moved to rest on your head as he pushed his cheek against the top of his hand to lean against your head.

“It will be alright,” he soothed.

“I know,” you chocked.

You spent a little while longer in your lifelong home before you felt like you were finally as ready as you’d ever be to leave. You feared if you stayed too much longer you’d root into your floorboard and then you’d never move again. As you walked out of the house, you took the key that hung on the inside of the door frame and took it out with you. You didn’t lock the cabin door, instead you placed the key on the outside doorknob.

This cabin would be welcoming to anyone who needed it, that was what the key hanging outside the space signified.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Yoongi asked for the umpteenth time, earning him an eye roll from you.

“Yes, now take me away or else I’ll start ugly crying.” He chuckled before he was walking with you out of the Woodlands and when you reached the edge of the lands, he transformed into his wyvern form. You climbed onto his neck just behind his head so you could clutch onto his horns (or his ears, whichever worked best with your grip) before he was flying off with you completely.

Leaving that cabin, the humans and one single letter on the dining table addressed to ‘Villagers’ behind for good.

-x-x-x-

“Father! Look, is this what you were talking about?” A small child cheered as he ran through the Woodlands and came across a small cabin that was covered in overgrowth. The wood had been overrun with vines and moss. Small tree saplings sprung from the wood above on the roof and weeds overtook the ground that was once all dirt. The trunk that had once been used to chop wood years and years ago had a sapling of a new tree ready to grow in the next hundred years.

Nests of birds, holes and burrows of moles and squirrels littered the area.

The child ran around the perimeter of the cabin, eyeing it up and down as small plumes of red smoke puffed through their nostrils in excitement.

“I’ve never seen a human house before!”

“Juilius, come back to me before you trip or get caught in a vine.”

The child trotted back to his father who had come to the Woodlands simply to show his son what the home of a human looked like. Although, times have changed and this is certainly not how humans lived anymore. This cabin was long forgotten to time and nature had long since reclaimed it.

The visit was short and sweet to a degree as the child was soon ushered to be ready to leave. “Your mother wants you home at a reasonable time. We can’t keep her waiting.”

“I’m coming,” the child cheered as he started leaving the Woodlands with his father’s hand in his own. “Will I get to fly part of the way back this time? I swear I can!”

“Alright, you can until we hit the first mountain peak; but don’t tell your mother.”

“I won’t!” He promised.

Landing peacefully in Dragon Country and arriving safely at the palace, the child giggled happily to himself on how well he was able to fly on his own and how his wings were getting stronger day by day.

“Yes, but you still can’t retract your scales yet, now can you?” His father teased. Juilius pouted as his brick red scales refused to fade in his human form.

“Well,” a voice called to them in a happy tone. “You look just like your father when you pout like that with your scales out.”

“Mother!” Juilius cheered as he ran to his mother’s arm, clinging to her as he was picked up and nuzzled into her neck. “Father took me to the Woodlands today. He said that there was a cabin in the woods where you used to live, so he let me see it!”

You blinked down at your blush-cheeked scaled child. “Oh did he? I hope he didn’t let you fly at that dangerous height.”

“Nope!” The child grinned as innocent as can be- keeping his promise to his father in the small little white lie.

“You always assume the worst of me. Don’t you, Scale?” Yoongi teased as he came to your side with your child on your chest as his legs kicked playfully on either side of your hips. He was young, only a decade old. He was still a hatchling when it came right down to dragon ages.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Mother, can you tell me about the humans?”

“You’re always so curious about them. Why do you want to know, Hatchling?”

“Well, you used to be one right? Father said you only got your scales and horns when you came here.”

“Well, then that is going to be a long story. It’s only right if your father helps tell part of it too. It is his fault I became a dragon in the first place,” you looked at Yoongi as he cleared his throat. “Isn’t that right, Your Majesty.”

“I really don’t know what you could be referring to,” he sheepishly retorted, looking away. As Juilius tried annoying the answer out of his father, he just shushed him. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“That’s not fair,” the child pouted.

“My Lady,” your attention was called from Navia who had finally tracked you down. His white eyes glowing down the halls like nighttime fireflies as he approached. “A new hatchling was born in the valley this morning and it’s mother asked if you would be gracious enough to name them.”

Your eyes shined. “I’d love to,” you said as you set Juilius down and kissed his forehead. You moved to kiss Yoongi’s cheek as you allowed Navia to escort you away. The dragon child took his father’s hand.

“So, what mother said about how she became a dragon; why do I need to wait until I grow up to know? Is it some kind of big dragon secret?” Yoongi’s face flushed as he cleared his throat again and was soon leading his son off somewhere else to clean up after his day out.

“I already told you, not until you’re older.”

Who knew that the exchanging of the blood and saliva of the king of dragons was able to gradually change humans into dragons? Yoongi certainly never knew until one morning you woke up with scales dusting your cheeks after a rather specific night.

To which would soon be the outcome of the pestering royal child, Juilius.

-END-

953 notes · View notes

korissideblog · 3 years

Text

ohhh i'm lowkey very proud of this one <333

sillie little characters: Hiroharu [@compoundhero ] Michiko [@residentquirksupport ] and Ikuto [@the-heartbeat-hero ] <3

i didn't finish all the sketches i wanted for this fic, but i also wanted to get it out today, so maybe i'll reblog it or edit it later with the drawings <3 there are like two that i finished on time, but ahugghieisdifs whatever. it's officially midnight and i have work tomorrow <3

(also, if heartbeat-hero is reading this, thxs for reading over it for me, and i changed the ending a tiny bit so you could have something new to read <3)

“And then he’s going to put the ring on you-”

“But the ring is poisoned.” “Yes, we’re not gonna let it touch you. We’ll be there before anything happens.”

“Alright and- you can go tighter than that Mich.” Aito said, looking over his shoulder to Michiko, who was busy tying Aito’s corset.

“Any tighter and you won’t be able to breathe. You’re gonna be wearing this for longer than you think.” Michiko warned, tying the knot as flatly as she could. “Plus the dress is already fitted, if your waist gets smaller the fabric would look baggy.” Aito fought the urge to roll his eyes and turned back to Hiroharu.

“You know Jeje, I thought you would have brought me a gift.” She said, crossing her arms. “New silverware or something.”

Hiroharu closed the file in his hands as he looked at Aito in confusion. “Why would we have done that?”

“Because!” Aito said, walking to the other side of the dressing room, passing Ikuto- who’s been nervously rearranging Aito’s bouquet for the last 20 minutes- and unzipping a huge dress bag. A short but fluffy white dress spilled from it, and Aito unhooked it from the hanger.

“I’m getting married!”

______________________________________________________________

Aito was kinda spacing out a bit.

In his defense! He’d already done the walking-down-the-aisle-over-pretty-rose-petals bit, and that’s all he was really looking forward to at his wedding.

He knew Haru and Michi and Iku would be here any moment to break up the arrangement, but he had to play it cool, smiling and giggling at her groom as he read his vows.

Haruto Suzuki, better known as the White Phantom, was Aito’s target. He was cunning and malicious and a hopeless romantic to anyone who could get ahold of his list of ebooks. Aito spent almost half a year in this role-Ichika Yokoyama, for the time being- and worked a bit harder than necessary to get close to Suzuki. She just liked her cases ending with a bang, and what was more exciting than a wedding?

______________________________________________________________

Hiroharu listened intently to the wiretap under Aito’s dress, trying to time the ambush while the support team rounded the back, ready to catch any of the villains in attendance. The support team was being led by Michiko over radio as Haru focused on Suzuki.

“-I promise to always remember that you are indeed human. That you may sometimes make questionable decisions, decisions I don't agree with, like when you got a red velvet wedding cake when I asked for vanilla”

The reception laughed and Haru could hear Aito smack Suzuki’s hand playfully. At least she was staying in character.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You’ve always been like that, headstrong and sure of yourself in ways I could never be. You’re always right in the end- red velvet is my favorite flavor, I was just worried about other people’s opinions.- and… and I think that’s why I love you, Ichika.”

“I don’t think I would poison someone if I loved them.” Ikuto huffed, trying his best to stay in his chair in case pacing would alert anyone to the ambush.

Hiroharu remembered the call well. The one where Aito told him that he found messages between Suzuki and another villain, messages describing how Suzuki knew that Aito was speaking to someone behind his back. Secret calls to Michiko and Ikuto about the mission turned into hidden calls from a lover in Suzuki’s eyes, and he was going to take his revenge. Hiroharu was ready to pull Aito out of the mission then and there but… Aito wanted to continue.

“He didn’t tell me that he knew.” she reasoned. “If the wedding goes as planned, there’ll be at least 3 villains in attendance, as well as a few people who might have information that we need! He’s not gonna kill me before the wedding, so let’s keep going!” Hiroharu hated this plan, but Aito was stubborn enough to get her way.

Hiruharu noticed a slight change in Suzuki’s voice, silently getting Michiko’s attention with a wave of his hand. The vows were about to end.

“And that’s what today is all about… it’s not about arguments over cakes or venues or honeymoons… it’s about getting past all those arguments and realizing that… that I would go through a thousand more if it means I get to wake up next to you tomorrow.”

And Aito laughs, tears threatening her makeup as she gives the signal that the ring is in his hand- it’s time to go.

______________________________________________________________

The small reception turned to face the doors of the building as the heroes crashed through it, but the entire room stood still as the scene settled.

There he was, Aito Takao, Ichika Yokoyama, the blushing bride… with a golden band on her finger.

Aito’s eyes drooped a bit, as if she couldn’t figure out what she was looking at. Her hands clutched weakly at Suzuki’s lapels as she tried to regain her balance, his breathing getting heavy as he tried to stand up straight. “H-Haru…?” she asked just above a whisper, nobody sure of which one she was talking to as her body leaned back and she fell to the floor, limp as a corpse.

… a corpse…

Hiroharu could… he could feel Michiko’s hand clutching his wrist, but it was like he was remembering it, not like it was happening currently. Like he was asked to describe what happened as he watched his friend collapse into a pile of lace and satin, white and cold like a dead dove. Asked to describe the feeling of loss as he felt Ikuto slump onto his shoulder, holding onto his sleeve as if he couldn’t stay upright, like his body told him to meet Aito on the floor. Asked to describe Aito, her breath shaky and pained, the last one leaving her chest like a deadly flower wilting.

Something wicked… but also delicate in it’s own way.

What Hiroharu couldn’t describe was the sound. He knew there was silence, the telltale ringing of the room as no one dared inhale, as if Aito’s death would proceed all of their own, but there was also something else.

There was laughter.

Laughter Hiroharu recognized well. Notes and melody that he could recall from his high school years, a finger pointed at him as his friend laughed at whatever trick she had just pulled.

And oh what a trick he had pulled.

Aito sat up lazily, looking up at her groom- the villain shocked and nearly shaking as he looked down at his corpse bride- laughter spilling from her lips like blood as he gazed at the man in black through her eyelashes, batting them playfully as he finally calmed down enough to speak.

“Oh, you think I’m stupid, right?” He asked, one hand sneaking under her skirt. “Thought you could just kill me- didn’t wanna talk out our issues, baby?” He spat, his teeth pearly white and dangerously sharp as she smiled. From under her garter she produced a short poll, which when swung extended into his iconic golden colored staff. Aito took the ring off his finger as he stood, holding it up to Suzuki like a prize.

“I switched the rings~”

______________________________________________________________

“I can’t believe you did that.” Ikuto sighed with exhaustion, the fight was finally over, looking over the party as Michiko and the support team made quick work of arresting everyone involved. “I was so scared- I thought you died.”

Aito shrugged and continued eating the small slice of red velvet cake he somehow managed to salvage after Haru threw a guy into it. “That happens sometimes. Who’s feeding Jiji while I’m away?” He asked, as Ikuto realized that Aito really didn’t know what he did wrong, and also realized that he didn’t have the energy to explain.

“One of your neighbors. She’s like 2 doors down-“

“You got Hasegawa to feed Jiji!?” And now it was Ikuto’s turn to roll his eyes at something he saw as minuscule. “I hate her! You know that!”

“You don’t have to like her for her to feed Jiji.” Ikuto responded, his dismissal similar to Aito’s. Aito responded with her usual dramatics, shoving his plate into Ikuto’s hands as he turned to the gift table, sorting through the things that could be evidence (all of it) and the things he wanted to keep (also all of it). He held up a little envelope, and read the words on the front aloud. “Suzuki, for you and your new wife- and two bodyguards.” He tore it open with curiosity and four tickets fell into his hand. “Oh they‘re for-“ Aito gasped quietly as he read the name on the ticket, immediately holding it out to Ikuto. Before Ikuto could actually read the tickets, Aito stepped away and jogged over to Michiko.

“Mich~” Aito sang, holding up the tickets, but failing to catch Michiko’s eyes as she watched through the open doors, Suzuki in handcuffs being escorted into a large black SUV. “guess what?”

“Do you… Aito?” Michiko started, as if she was unsure about whether she wanted the answer to her question or not. “He… I know he’s a villain and he’s done terrible things but…” she leaned her head so she could see the SUV drive away. “He thought… I mean… he really thought he was going to kill the love of his life today.” she held herself, as if just the thought of it brought a coldness that would make her shiver. “I mean could you even imagine-” and then… she looked at Aito. Aito, with his droopy yellow eyes, completely unfazed by what Michiko was describing.

She knew Aito could love. She knew that Aito loved his mama, and Ikuto like a brother, and she knew that Aito loved her and Haru like best friends but… given the blank stare… she wasn’t sure if Aito…

“You dated him for half a year- Aito, he even asked you to marry him.” Michiko said, trying her best to describe her ideas in a way that Aito could understand. “That whole entire time did you ever… you know…?” Aito seemed as though he was about to respond, but paused, as if he really wanted to think about his answer.

“He… he really had a thing for poker.” she started, watching as the last of the SUV slipped behind the horizon line. “He’d play with his friends and… if he won big he’d…” Aito raised her hands gently, as if holding something delicate. “He’d buy me a dozen roses… and he’d tell me I was on his mind. That I was his good luck charm.” he laughed, recalling how silly it all sounded. “And… for just a moment… I’d forget it was all a job.”

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Both of the women jumped a bit as Haru came up from behind them, quickly turning to face him and forget their prior conversation. “Ikuto said Aito found something and she wanted to show us.”

“Ohh Boss!” Aito chirped, immediately snapping out of whatever mournful spell him and Michi were under. “You’d never guess!” she then held out the four tickets for them to examine. “Pack your bags! I know where we’re going next!!!”

#scrap book page took so much longer than expected </3 wowie #anywho #aito almost got married <3 #and then almost died <3 #if you see spelling mistakes no you don't <3 #if you need a little guide for the scrapbook page: aito is purple. haru is blue. michi is pink. and iku is red <3 #i just think they deserve a little vacation <3 #aito takao #ikuto maekawa #aki hiroharu #michiko wantanabe #bnha oc comeback #Kori stories

21 notes · View notes

emilia3546 · 3 years

Text

Shadowsinger Part 23 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*

Masterlist with all previous chapters

*****

Azriel held her close all night, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other cradling her head against his chest where Gwyn lay practically on top of him. She blinked as the sunlight coursed through the curtains, and brushed Azriel's hair back out of his face,

"You need a haircut," she chuckled when he opened his eyes and she laughed when the arm around her waist tightened, "Thank you," she whispered, unable to really explain what he'd done for her last night, but he just nodded, brushing a hand through her hair, refusing to let go when she wriggled, "You don't want me to go,"

"No, but I know that you need to, I just want you to be careful, remember your promise,"

"I know, I'll be fine, I'm not the one fighting everyone,"

"It's not proper fighting, just a taste, they'll have no idea what's hit them if I do fight any of them properly." Gwyn snorted,

"I'm sure," she laughed, "Are you going to let me go?"

"Don't want to," Azriel rolled sideways and tugged Gwyn closer, planting a kiss on the top of her head, "I'd stay here forever if I could."

"Here?"

"Alone, with you, not worrying about the world," Gwyn eased back enough to meet his gaze,

"We'll have that time, I promise, there you go, another promise, seems I can't help but make them to you," she wriggled her way out of his arms, "You need to get up, or we'll both be late." Azriel groaned, but Gwyn made sure he was getting up before sorting herself out, going as far as dragging the duvet away from him, earning wild complaints, and glares, but, sleepy as he was, Gwyn couldn't help but laugh as he dragged himself to the bathroom.

Gwyn sighed when she pulled on her dress, wishing she could get away with something easier to fight and move in, not that the corset was an issue, it didn't restrict her, but she still marveled at how it could fit properly whilst not obstructing her wings. The skirt however, was an issue, Illyrians favored full skirts, and while she could run, she didn't fancy her chances in a proper fight, in a little one she would be alright, but she didn't like it.

She was brushing through her hair when Azriel appeared behind her, stealing the brush form her hand,

"Az! Give it back," she complained, but he just twirled a finger, and she huffed as she turned back to the mirror, sighing when he kept working through the more stubborn tangles and knots. She couldn't help but smile at the way his brows bunched when he was concentrating on a particular knot.

"What are you grinning about?"

"You, being all adorable," Azriel didn't get a chance to respond before someone pounded on the door, Gwyn jumped up to answer it, leaving Azriel to pretend to be gathering his kit for training, but she relaxed at the sigh of Laylah at the door,

"Amirah," she sobbed, "Thank the Cauldron, I was so worried I'd have gotten it wrong, please let me in," Gwyn stepped aside, quietly closing the door behind her,

"What is it?" Laylah made to speak, but shook her head at the sight of Azriel,

"He won't hurt you," Gwyn promised, "He's not like some of these others,"

"He's not?"

"No, he's not."

"Oh gods, my father is going to kill me, I ran away, just like he thought I would. I had to, you have to understand, he wanted to marry me to a human! A prince, but a human, he'll be old and grey in no time, I can't, I just can't do it, I won't!"

"It's okay, it's okay, you don't have to do anything you don't want to,"

"Okay, okay, can we stay here for a moment?"

"Yeah, okay, Gavin's heading off to training, he'll be back later, we can stay here if you like,"

"Thank you, you won't tell my father?" Azriel offered a gentle smile,

"Tell him what?" He nodded to Gwyn as he slipped out,

"Did your father say why?"

"He wants to build alliances, and marriage does that, but if I were to marry him, I would be surrounded by people who hate me, I didn't think even my father would be cruel enough for that. He said, I don't really understand,"

"What? It's okay, you're safe here,"

"He said that if they were to pull something off, to get the Spymaster and General in one go, all it would take would be a little reassurance and he'd get what he wanted,"

"Oh gods, did he say anything about that plan?"

"No, but he had some papers on his desk he was writing on last night, I wasn't supposed to see,"

"Thank you, please Laylah, stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"But where are you going?"

"To try and save lives."

Gwyn kept her head down but hurried as fast as she could to Laylah's room, and froze at the sight of a male there, she'd expected him to be at training, all the others were. She didn't give him a chance to shout, or move, her fist connecting with his nose with such force that it crumpled under the impact, and her strike to his temple sent him tumbling to the ground. Papers, something about attacking Az and Cass, together, to kill them both. She let her instincts guide her, not quite knowing what she was looking for, but there it was, a battle plan, or less of a battle plan, more an ambush plan, shit.

She was about to rush back to her room, not even bothering to copy the plan, they'd be long gone before anyone discovered it was gone, but there were voices outside the door, one voice she recognized, Azriel's half brother. If it really was him, he would recognize them, both of them, she had to get Azriel out, now. She dived into the bathroom, freezing as the door flew open, revealing the very male she'd hoped was dead, along with three others.

"Shit, go and get him, now, I'll find the redhead." That voice, it was that same voice, she was going to make him pay for what he'd done to Azriel, several times over. She would never beat them there, and with Azriel surrounded by hostile Illyrians, they couldn't just fight their way out. She was on the first floor, she could get across the courtyard to the training pitch, and pretend, what, that she was ill? No, she'd pretend that someone had tried to touch her, that was allowed to get Azriel's attention.

She threw the window open, and flared her wings as she fell through the air, not quite flight, but it had slowed her fall enough that she could roll to recover, sprinting for the training pitch, racing those nameless males who sought to hurt her, what? She wasn't scared, she refused to be scared any longer. She loved him, and she chose him, he was one of the only things she'd ever chosen, and she chose him, not because of anything else, but because of him, and anyone who sought to hurt him would die before they reached him.

She staggered on her feet when she opened the door to the training pitch,

"Gavin!" She screamed, and Azriel's head shot up from the corner he was currently wrestling another male in, "Gavin please, he's scaring me!" She forced herself to cry, gasping when Azriel launched into the air, landing just in front of her, "It wasn't my fault, please, I tried, he just,"

"Amirah, not here, outside," she sniffed and nodded, letting Azriel guide her away, "What's the matter,"

"Your brother, he's here, he knows we're here, he's coming, we have to go, now! I got a plan for an ambush form Laylah's father, but we have to go, and we have to take her with us,"

"Okay," Azriel nodded, and Gwyn's heart swelled at the way he wouldn't hesitate to help a female he barely knew, again.

"We can't go that way," Gwyn tugged Azriel round the corner, "I came across that way, probably looked really suspicious, but he's coming from that way,"

"I can't winnow in here, the wards are too strong, back here, come on, there's a servants' staircase, we should be able to fit, hopefully," Gwyn ran, Azriel at her side, squeezing through the narrow gap, and practically dragged Azriel through, she was already running when he checked for any guards, sprinting down the corridor beside her, "Where is she?"

"Our room,"

"Shit, I'll get her, I can fly out of the window, then it's a clear shot to get away, you get out, the back entrance,"

"No, I won't leave you," Azriel spun on his heels, pinning Gwyn against the wall as someone ran past, panting as they didn't take notice of them,

"Please, Gwyn, you have to,"

"I can't, I won't leave you, you can carry two, and you'll need my help to fight if they find you." She was right, she knew she was right, and she didn't blame him for the reluctance in his gaze, the conflict at knowingly putting her in danger, "I promised we'd have time, but we have to fight for it, both of us."

"Okay."

*****

With that one word he shattered any worries he still had, calming his fears as he hauled Gwyn's mouth to his, that ghost of a kiss the last he'd get until they were safe again,

"Stay alive," she murmured,

"We fight as one,"

"Always." There were three guard positions between them and their room, with two or three guards each, he sent his shadows ahead to find how many there were at the first, two, nice and easy. They sprinted through the corridors, and just before that guard post Gwyn nodded and sprinted forward, faster than before, slamming to a halt when one of the guards burst out to chase her down. She pivoted, slamming her elbow up into his throat, and he fell immediately, just in time for her to turn to catch the second guard's wrist, stepping across to flip him to the ground, stumbling once on her skirt before drawing her dagger and slamming the hilt into the guard's temple as he struggled to rise, knocking him back to the ground, unconscious.

She looked back to Azriel and he nodded approvingly,

"Looks like you don't need me anymore," he teased, and she just glared, grabbing her skirts,

"I can't fight in this," she complained, "Not properly, gimme that," she drew a sword from Azriel's belt slicing the bottom of the skirt away above her knees, "That's better, I'll just scandalize them into submission," she winked, and Azriel couldn't help the chuckle from breaking out of him,

"You okay?" She nodded,

"Let's get out of here."

The second guard position had two guards, and Azriel smirked at Gwyn as they approached,

"My turn," he stopped and knocked on the door, smiling as the guard realized he was the one they were supposed to be looking for and opened his mouth to shout, backing away, but not fast enough as Azriel's fist connected with his nose. The second guard was faster, darting sideways, only inches from the warning bell when Azriel swept his legs out from underneath him, almost wincing at the crack as he fell hard on the floor, not needing a second blow to knock him out,

"Not bad," Gwyn chuckled, "But yours were closer to sounding the alarm, I win,"

"We'll see about that, Valkyrie,"

"Nothing more to see, Shadowsinger," Azriel laughed again, already running down the corridor,

"You're doing great with your wings now,"

"I'm pretty much used to them by now, it'll probably be weird when Feyre vanishes them again," she laughed, "Guards, three o'clock"

"One each, fastest gets the third," she grinned confidently, and Azriel laughed to himself, there was no way he was letting her win this one, he downed his guard with one blow, cursing as Gwyn managed the same, his shadows flashing out to disorient the third, letting Azriel reach him first. He dodged the wild dagger throw before tackling him to the ground and squeezed a pressure point on his neck to knock him out without hurting him too badly.

"You cheat!" Gwyn complained, "I'll get you for that!"

"I look forward to it," Azriel raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking up at a scream from the end of the corridor, from their room. He paused outside for a moment, trying to gauge what was happening,

"I don't know! Please, who the hell is Azriel?" Laylah, she was still there then, a shadow slipped under the door, three males, including his brother, he gestured for Gwyn to wait a moment and threw the door open, a dagger already flying for the male holding on to Laylah. She screamed and fell away as the male hissed in pain, pressing a hand to the dagger in his side,

"Wonderful, a family reunion," Azriel forced himself to wait, this male was a monster, but he had a job to do, "We've missed you, little brother,"

"You are not my brother." Azriel snapped, "Let the girl go,"

"Or what?"

"I don't think you want to find out," he snarled, but his brother's attention had flicked over his shoulder,

"So this is the Priestess, she with you now? Doesn't matter, she's not leaving here, shame though, pretty little thing," he broke off with a cry when Gwyn's dagger buried into the base of his wing, and he dropped to the ground, whimpering in pain, especially when she rushed forwards, leaving Azriel to threaten the last male back,

"Now," Gwyn said, her voice like cold death, "Unless you want me to find out exactly how much it hurts when I cut this off, tell me what your plan was,"

"Kill him," the male shrieked, and Gwyn grasped the dagger's handle, "Don't! Please, we were going to kill him, Azriel, and the other one, the General, I was going to use Laylah's father to get control of Illyria," he screamed when Gwyn drew the dagger out, driving her knee up into his groin,

"That's for threatening Az," she snarled, and Azriel hesitated for a moment, somehow still shocked at the proof of how she felt, giving the last male a chance to attack while he was distracted, forcing Gwyn to throw her dagger again, burying it up to the hilt in the last male's chest, "Are you okay?" She demanded,

"Fine, what about him?" He gestured to his brother, now trying to crawl away,

"Your call,"

"We should bring him back in chains," Gwyn stepped onto his injured wing, and he whimpered again, falling still, "We can't kill him yet, no matter how much I want to, I'm not sure I can carry all three of you," Gwyn looked out of the window,

"How far do the wards go?"

"About fifty meters,"

"I can climb down there and run that, wait just outside, and be ready to winnow,"

"That's too dangerous,"

"Then leave me the shadows, take Laylah and this idiot and wait there for me, I'm right behind you," Azriel couldn't leave her, she was right, and he knew she could do it, but he would have to leave her. If he left the shadows they could break up her outline, make it difficult to hit her, and she was fast, but he would have to leave her.

"I can't."

"You have to. I'm right behind you, I promise." Another promise, he had to let her do this, he trusted her with his life, he had to trust her with her own,

"Stay alive," he parroted from earlier, and Gwyn laughed,

"I'll see you in a minute," she threw the window open as wide as it would go, and climbed out, finding a foothold to start climbing as Azriel knocked his brother out, throwing him over a shoulder and extended a hand to Laylah.

"Hold on, whatever you do, do not let go,"

"You're the Spymaster," she whispered, "You were here the whole time, you can get me out of here?" Azriel nodded,

"We'll keep you safe," Laylah nodded, stepping up to him, and wrapped her arms around him, helping to hold on to his unconscious brother as she did so, squeezing her eyes shut as he dived out of the window, flapping furiously to keep high enough in the air to distract attention from Gwyn's shadow-shrouded form just reaching the floor. She looked up once before she sprinted forwards, and Azriel looked back to her the moment he landed, she was so close, so, so, close, just a few more steps.

She stumbled, and fell, an arrow protruding from her back. Azriel screamed in rage, making to run for her, but she was back up, reaching for his hand. Laylah was still gripping his arm, holding his brother as shadows encircled them, winnowing them away, back to where he'd stashed all their spare supplies. The moment they landed, he yanked out of Laylah's grip, his heart racing as he reached for Gwyn, only to find her laughing as she yanked the arrow out, no blood on it.

"Finally something a corset's good for," she snorted, "It struck one of the bones of the corset, never even touched me, I just got the impact,"

"Oh gods," Azriel murmured, "I thought I'd lost you,"

"You can't get rid of me that easily," she chuckled, but didn't complain when he folded her into his arms, still checking that she really was uninjured, the unbridled fear that had been racing through his blood fading slightly as she wrapped her arms around him. He couldn't fathom losing her, not now after everything, not when she was all his dreams come true. "Always," she whispered, "I meant it, you know, it's going to take more than an arrow to separate us."

#fanfiction #fanfic #azriel x gwyn #Azriel #Azwyn #Gwyn #gwynriel #Gwyn acosf #gwyneth berdara #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames

37 notes · View notes

corruptedcaps · 3 years

Text

Penny Lame

This is a sequel to the absolute must read story from the fantastic Evie Hyde. Read it here first.

It had been a rough day for popular mean girl Paige. Her beautiful hair had been cut off without warning by Caz a girl in her class. It had been such a shock that poor Paige fainted right there in class. When she came to at home her parents explained what had happened and Paige broke down crying.

“Why would someone be so cruel to her?” She had sobbed. Her parents were worried about her. It was uncharacteristic for Paige to show such vulnerability. In fact her parents had always been somewhat scared of their cruel daughter. A daughter who held sway over her peers like a Queen bee. By the next morning she seemed like practically the opposite. She was now introverted, emotional and shy.

In fact Paige herself seemed to realize this about herself too and hated the person she once was. She quickly repressed everything that had made her such a feared bitch and purposefully started to forget everything she had once held so dear.

Fashion know how, makeup skills, sex appeal, manipulation techniques, all escaped her mind like waking from a dream. She even started going by her given name of Penny feeling it was more friendly, soft and non-threatening.

Her parents, fearing that is was only a matter of time before their mean daughter came back, seized this opportunity to send her to a different school, one that wouldn’t foster her cruel personality re-emerging. They sent her to Darkstar Finishing School for Young Women. Here she would learn proper manners and discipline. Without her bitchy attitude she would fall in line.

“Welcome to Darkstar Finishing School Penny, I hope your trip wasn’t too bad. I am the Principal here but please call me Chloe. You can leave you bag down here, you won’t be needing it until the end of the semester.” The kind Principal said when Penny arrived. As Paige she had always been standoffish with authority figures but she felt she could trust Chloe.

“But all my clothes are in there.” Penny said weakly protesting. In truth Penny only had slutty revealing clothes left and wasn’t feeling confident enough to wear them anymore.

“Here at Darkstar we provide a uniform for you to wear just like the other young women. When we all look the same, we all work the same and so we work together instead of against.” The Principal spoke as if rehearsed. It certainly was a change from Penny’s previous life where she was the top of the hierarchy.

“But what about my deodorant, lotion and shampoo?” Penny said suddenly realizing that maybe she would need somethings from her old life.

“Not to worry dear, again we provide everything so we all are equal here. Don’t worry you’ll love it here. I keep all your things safe right here in my quarters until the last class of the semester. Now you must be tired, let me show you to your room.” Chloe said leading Penny out.

Over the next few weeks Penny had to admit that she was enjoying the Darkstar life. It was kind of freeing to not have to worry about what to wear and then agonize over whether it was the right choice or not. She even made quick friends with some of the girls. They weren’t friends with her out of fear, they were friends with her because they liked her.

Even her teachers seemed nice and she felt engaged in class. She was actually learning instead of figuring out ways to blackmail her way to top grades.

However she had noticed she hadn’t seen the Principal since their first meeting. The other girls had told her that it was unusual not to see her roaming the halls each day. They told her that Chloe loved interacting with her students. Penny thought nothing more of it until during class one day she heard the unmistakable sound of high heels slowly approach.

It was highly unusual to hear that sound anywhere around campus as high heels were strictly forbidden but then again the woman that soon entered the room was a head to toe walking violation.

All the girls instantly knew it was their Principal but she had undergone a shocking transformation. She was wearing a tight black shirt that clung to her chest nearly exposing her now large breasts. Her incredibly thin waist was wrapped in an elegant black corset. Long black boots adorned her sleek legs giving the false impression she wasn’t showing as much skin as she actually was.

Her lips were set in a permanent sexy pout. Her previously short sensible brown hair was now blonde, long, thick and perfectly straight. She looked effortlessly hot and had an air of superior confidence she had previously lacked. Pairing this with the fact that the kindness seemed to have been drained from now her piercing eyes instilled fear in each of the girls sitting in the room. The 40 year old educator looked easily half her age.

Each step she took towards the front desk make loud almost deafening sounds. It helped that each girl in the room had become deathly silent, unable to believe what they were seeing.

“Hello losers. I know I have been absent for some time but that all changes today. However that is not the only change either. Starting effective immediately uniforms are now longer necessary. In fact they are banned. That is unless you can somehow make the atrocious outfit sexy. Secondly we will be introducing new classes into the curriculum. Fashion, Make-up application and Gold-digging classes will now become mandatory to make each and every one of you it into a hot a piece of ass worthy of my presence. Finally and most importantly I will be no longer addressed as Principal or Chloe. From now on I will only answer to Headmistress Claudia.” The Headmistress said with a smirk as she saw the looks on each of girls face.

“Class dismissed.” She said in a breathy tone causing all the girls to quickly pack up their things and file out unsure how to feel about the changes. Penny was the last to walk towards the door but was stopped by the Headmistress.

“Penny I would like to see you in my private quarters later tonight, we have something to discuss.” The Headmistress said in almost a whisper before smiling unnervingly at Penny and leaving her staring at her ass as she walked out. Something about all of this gave Penny such déjà vu.

She was nervous all day for what the Headmistress could have in store for her. She had seen that mischevious look before when she used to look vainly at her own reflection. It was a look that had an evil plan in mind.

Hours later sweaty palmed and heart racing she knocked on the Headmistress’ door. A sultry ‘come’ came from within and Penny opened the door.

The Headmistress was dressed in tight yoga clothes with her hair in a ponytail when she entered looking into an open suitcase. Penny’s suitcase to be exact. Despite her dressed down appearance she still looked stunning. She gestured Penny to sit.

Claudia stalked around to Penny and stood strangely close to the her. Penny could smell the perfume waft off her and felt a tinge of nostalgia. It reminded her of her own perfume she used to wear and she realized it probably was hers seeing as she had packed it in the suitcase that was wide open.

“When you first arrived here at Darkstar all those weeks ago you weren’t completely honest with me were you Penny?” Claudia finally said peering down at Penny.

“I was Headmistress, completely.” Penny said nervously unsure what this was about.

“Don’t lie to me girl! I know about your secret! After all how do you think I have become this sexy and powerful? But I want to be even hotter and bitchier and it’s running out so you are going to tell me where to get more.” Claudia said slowly reaching behind her back for something.

“I’m sorry Headmistress I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Penny said really starting to fear the crazed look in Claudia’s face. The Headmistress grabbed her by her hair and took out a pair of scissors that she had been hiding from behind her back.

“Listen you pathetic worm I can make your life here at Darkstar a living hell or I can elevate you back to your Queen bee status so tell me how I can make more of the shampoo that I took from your bag. I want to be even hotter and meaner than I am now and you’re going to help me or I’ll cut what’s left of your hair off and grind it down into a paste that I can use instead.” Claudia said through gritted teeth.

Shampoo? Penny thought. She had forgot she even brought any but then again it wasn’t some store bought kind, it was a special homemade kind her rich Aunt had showed her how to make years ago. It always struck her as odd that her wealthy relative work resort to making her own shampoo but Penny forgave it as an excuse for her Aunt to spend time with her. At the time Penny was being bullied tremendously at school and her Aunt took pity on her. She had said it would make her feel better.

That’s when it clicked for Penny. The shampoo had transformed her into a bitch all those years ago. The more she used it the more of a bitch she had become. Caz cutting off her hair removed all her bitchiness in one fell swoop. She hadn’t used the shampoo since so she reverted back to her normal self.

Looking at the beautiful but unhinged Headmistress she knew she had to do what Caz had done to her if there were ever to be peace at Darkstar again.

“Oh the shampoo. Yes of course I can tell you how to make it but it’s rather complicated. Do you have a pen?” Penny said. Claudia eyed her suspiciously but let her go of her grasp and put the scissors on the table. The Headmistress turned around to find a pen and paper on her desk which was when Penny struck.

Grabbing hold of the scissors she quickly sliced through Claudia’s hair above the hair tie while holding the blonde locks in her other hand. Immediately Claudia turned and fire burned in her eyes.

“What have you done?! My beautiful hair! Give it back you brat!” Said the rapidly transforming Headmistress. Second by second she was reverting back to her older self.

Penny ran to the door closest to her which unfortunately happened to be the bathroom. She was trapped. She locked the door just before Claudia (quickly becoming Chloe) was about to burst through.

“You open this door at once you little slut and give me back my hair! I’m not going back to being a weak nobody again!” The Headmistress yelled pounding on the door.

Penny knew that she had to destroy the hair before the Headmistress got in but she also knew that when she eventually did get in that there would be hell to pay for her. She would certainly be punished and probably forced to give up shampoo recipe. She wasn’t strong enough to withstand the pressure that would be coming her way.

But Paige was.

Only as her old mean self would she be able to escape the predicament she was now in. She also had to admit that holding the long luxurious hair in her hands made her long for her previous bitchy self.

The longer she held the hair the more she remembered how good it felt to have such beautiful hair. The hair of a sexy alpha. The hair itself seemed to whisper to her to put it on, it wanted Penny as much as she was starting to want it too.

She wasn’t even sure anything would even happen but her hands seemed to be on autopilot as they brought the hair up to her head.

Immediately the hair strands came alive as they reached her own hair and gripped on tight to her short bob. The blonde strands recognized Penny’s hair as being once corrupted and found it easy to assimilate with her. They could feel the years of shampoo use in the roots and fed on the corruption.

She moaned as the Headmistress’ hair became one with her. Her mind was instantly flooded with the memories she had suppressed. She remembered her time stalking the halls of her high school instilling fear in all the pathetic losers like Sarah and Caz. Caz! That bitch will pay for taking away her power, for reducing her to less than a beta! She had kid herself into thinking she didn’t miss this thought but she suddenly couldn’t wait until she was back to her bitchy self.

However her body was aging up. No longer was she the young 18 year old Paige but now instead she was early 30’s with delicious evil knowledge flowing into her. Her own desires of being a bitchy bully we’re coming back but also new more recent thoughts from the Headmistress were infecting her mind. Instead of resist it she embraced it!

As a student she only had so much power but as Headmistress she would have control over the entire student body. A student body she could mould into a generation of evil bitches that she would command like an army. The whole idea was making her panties positively wet which was why she was glad when her clothes started to change from the boring uniform to a tight sequinned dress. It was just the perfect outfit for the now evil older woman.

As the perfect makeup settled on her face giving her a permanent stone cold look and her hair fused on the atomic level with the Headmistress’ her mind became clear of what she would do now that she was not only back but she was even badder than before.

She took one look at her resurrected form in the mirror and let a soft moan escape her lips. She couldn’t believe what a loser she had let herself become in the past few weeks when she could of been this big breasted bitch instead. Penny was gone once again and Paige reigned supreme. She had so much lost time to make up.

Swinging open the bathroom door she was confronted with the pathetic image of a crying Chloe now back to her old self.

“Do pick yourself up off the floor Chloe it’s unbecoming of a Deputy Headmistress.” Snarled Paige as she walked out of the bathroom over to her open suitcase.

“Deputy? B-but I’m...” Chloe started but was silenced by one look from Paige.

“Yes of course Headmistress Pen- I mean Headmistress Paige. I’m sorry, I’ll go clean myself up.” Chloe said picking herself up off the floor and heading for the door.

“Not so fast.” Paige said causing Chloe to stop in her tracks. The new Headmistress sauntered over to the Deputy loving how frightened and subservient she was. It had been so long since Paige had felt such bitchy power over a weakling that she wanted to ring out every drop but unfortunately she had a plan that needed to be put in motion.

“Here this will be enough for you to become a fraction of the hot slut you were in my absence. Do a good job and I may even bring you some more when I return.” Paige said handing the remnants of the shampoo bottle to a grateful Chloe. It made Paige disgusted seeing how desperate she was.

“Oh thank you so much Headmistress but where are you going?” Chole said while never taking her eyes off the shampoo.

“There is a personal matter I have to attend to my old school. Let’s call it a discipline problem that only I can fix.” Paige said with a smirk on her lips and revenge in her eyes. No one cuts off Paige and gets away with it.

#f2f #corruption #corrupted #corrupted hair #evie Hyde #evie sequel

144 notes · View notes

mxchellesworld · 3 years

Text

𝟑 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

***

The next few weeks went by in a breeze. It was now mid December and you were excited for the holiday season. You weren’t able to go with your family this year but Abbie had promised to make the time as festive as possible in your new home. Cat had scheduled time off to spend it with you and Spencer as the both of your jobs already gave you the days free.

They started to take you out to fancier places. You’d all dress up and sip on fine wine in restaurants. However you also had time with both of them individually. Spencer loved to take you to places where he could show off his knowledge. Dates to the museum or aquariums were your favorite. He would always talk your ear off and you would happily hang on to each word, asking him to further explain a certain topic.

Cat was more for artistic dates. She signed you guys up for painting classes. Each one of your masterpieces were now hanging up in your apartment, greeting you every time you got home. Or a ceramics class where she wasn’t too fond of how messy clay can get. One of your favorites was a wine tasting class. Spencer had to take you guys home after one too many glasses.

Slowly the emotional and physical bruises were disappearing. Neither of you had mentioned going back to the club. You didn’t mind though, it was probably for the best you take a break from that scene. You knew they still went, obviously being owners they needed to keep up appearances.

Just because you weren’t playing at the club didn’t mean you weren’t having fun at home. After your stunt of trying to be in control they spent their time showing you exactly who was in charge. Shocker: not you.

But just like their personalities had shifted your sex life had as well. Each time was filled with more of those kisses which made the butterflies in your tummy go crazy. More of your fingers interlaced and sharing each others breathes as you came down from your highs. More silent whispers of those three little words that made you all feel warm inside.

You had finally been able to have that long waited brunch with Penelope. She told you to go to her favorite cafe. It was bright pink with rainbows and unicorns littering every single corner.

You walked in and she called your name from a booth in the corner. She was excitedly waving you over. You had noticed her outfit was quite different than the one when you met her. The black corset was replaced by a knee length dress, it was pink and had colorful little shapes all over. She also donned chunky necklaces and had fluffy pins in her hair.

“Y/n I am so happy to see you again!” she said pulling you into a hug. Her embrace was extremely comforting. It felt like when Abbie hugged you, the same sisterly protectiveness they both radiated.

“Me too Penelope! How have you been? How was visiting your brother?” you questioned her as you sat down.

She explained her family situation and you silently listened to her. Your hand instinctively grabbed hers from across the table, trying to bring her a gentle form of comfort and understanding.

A waitress came by and asked what you’d like to order. You decided to get a lemon tea and a strawberry chocolate crepe. Penelope on the other hand ordered a unicorn blast frappe with a slice of chocolate cake.

You both ate and talked about any updates in your life. You had told her about how you were mainly going to be alone for the holidays so she had invited you to her house for the annual party she threw.

“Most people from the club go. We’re all really close and it’s fun to see each other in a different light ya know. I’m sure everyone would love to meet you,” she said taking a sip of her equally colorful drink.

“Sounds fun. I’ll think about it and let you know alright,” you said cutting into the crepe. Of course you wanted to go but you didn’t know if Cat and Spencer wanted to have you around their friends yet. You guys haven’t had the conversation about making everything official but it was obvious you guys were a step up from the past dynamic.

Once you guys had finished up eating she insisted on paying the bill. After a few minutes of bickering you relented and let her pay, “Fine, I’ll let you get it this one time but don’t be surprised if muffins suddenly show up at your house,” you said pointing a finger at her.

She gave you a hug goodbye and wished you a safe drive home. You did the same and promised to keep her updated about your stance on going to her party.

Arriving at your house, you saw you had a missed call from Spencer. You set your stuff down and threw yourself on your bed, having your phone on speaker as it rang.

Three rings later and you heard his voice float through the air, “Hey hey,” he said stressing the ‘y’.

You giggled as you answered, “Hey Spence, What’s got you in a good mood?”

“I am glad you asked Y/n/n. I just finished all my grading for my classes this term and suddenly have the afternoon free,” he said excitedly.

You were aching to see the smile you knew was on his face so you hit the button to switch the call to facetime. Like you had predicted he there was a smile on his face spread from cheek to cheek. His phone was propped up on his desk and you could see his whole face and torso. He was wearing one of his suit and sweater combos, which you thought were adorable.

“Very nice, any big plans for the night?” you asked holding the phone up high as you laid in bed. You noticed the top buttons on the flannel you had on were popped off, showing the red lacy bra you had on underneath. Spencer’s lack of response let you know what he was looking at.

“See something you like Sir?” you said in a teasing voice.

He cleared his throat, his eyes shifting back to look at your face, “Of course I do. Who were you trying to impress wearing that under your clothes? Do they already know you belong to someone else?”

You decided to play along and tease him. The inner brat in you was aching to be let out so you had to have some fun. You set your phone to be propped up by your pillows as you rested on your knees in front of it.

“Yeah and to who is that exactly? I don’t see a collar around my neck Spencie,” you said further unbuttoning the shirt, letting it hang loosely around your frame.

You saw him look to his side, probably making sure the door to his office was closed. “Is that what you need princess? Do you need me to get you a collar like a lost little puppy to show you and everyone else who that tight little cunt belongs to,” he gritted into the phone.

You shivered at his words. You had seen other people in the club with a choker type necklace around their necks. Many were simple with little designs while others had hoops at the front. Some people even tugged their partners around on a leash. You didn’t think you were there yet but the thought of everyone knowing who you belonged to because of a simple piece of leather around your neck was enticing.

This time your silence let him know he had gotten to you, “Keep striping,” he said smirking into the camera.

You pulled off the flannel and felt the hairs on your skin prick up from the chill in your room. “Keep going princess. I wanna see all of you.”

Hopping off the bed you put your fingers in the leggings you had on and tugged them down your legs. Spencer licked his lips at the sight of the lacy set in contrast to your skin. All your best aspects were on display. You crawled up towards the phone and saw Spencer shifting with his pants. You grabbed the phone again and went back to your previous position of laying down.

“Touch yourself for me princess,” you heard Spencer say.

You let your hand slide down between your legs grazing over the lace material, you could feel the slowly growing wet patch. A sigh left your lips at the sensation, your fingers teasing over your clothed slit.

“I wish you were here Sir,” you said looking into the phone. You could make out the motions of Spencer pumping his cock but the visual was under the frame, “Can I watch you?” you tried to say in your most convincing voice. Knowing about his soft spot for you, you’d get your way easily.

He scooted his chair back a little and angled his phone giving you a full view. You moaned at the sight of his long cock dripping with precum, the way he used his thumb to collect it over the tip just how he liked it.

“Fuck princess, I wish you were here too. I’d bend you right over the table and fuck you hard enough for everyone in this damn building to hear,” he groaned.

You let your fingers slip inside the fabric and gather some of your slick. You used it to rub quick circles on your clit before you inserted one of your fingers. You whined wishing it was one of his longer, fuller ones.

Your eyes raked over the phone screen, taking in the way his head fell back as he pleasured himself. The way the long veins on his hands popped out drove you wild.

You weren’t shy about hiding your moans. You let them float through the room and into the phone freely as you fingered yourself. Neither of you were saying much but the thought of each others presence was enough to have you guys panting.

“I’m so close Sir,” you moaned, “I wish I had your big cock inside me.”

“That’s it baby, fuck yourself while you think of me. Just wait until I get my hands on that sweet body again, I’m gonna fuck you till you cry princess,” he said breathlessly.

His words spurred you on and soon enough the knot in your belly was exploding. You took the fingers out from inside of you and quickly rubbed your clit. Your other hand had a hulk-like grip on your phone

“Cum with me Sir. Please,” you mewled out.

“I’m right there with you princess.”

You both let out sighs of pleasure. His a bit more quiet due to being on campus and the walls could only do so much. You tried your hardest to keep your eyes open and gaze over everything on your phone. You tried to catch his facial expression down to the spurts of cum dripping down his hand.

You stayed spread out on your bed as you watched Spencer clean himself up with a pack of tissues on his desk. He then tucked his now soft cock into his pants and picked up the phone looking at you with a smile.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“Hey pretty girl,” he said back.

You thought back to Penelope’s invitation and decided to bring it up to him, “I was at lunch with Pen today and she brought up a party she holds for the holidays. Maybe it’s dumb but do you and Cat wanna go together? Like with me I mean,” you asked laying on your side.

“Yeah I don’t see why not princess. We’ve been meaning to show you off to everyone at the lounge but we didn’t know if you were ready to go back,” he trailed off.

“I understand. Thank you guys for being so patient,” you said. Your heart felt soft at how they wanted to introduce you to their friends.

“Maybe by New Years or something we have a big event. You can even get me collar and all,” you said with a teasing giggle.

He playfully groaned, “God you wanna kill me don’t you.” You shared a laugh and looked at your phones in silence taking in each other. The same giddy feeling you get when you’re around them flowed through you.

The day of the party had came sooner than expected. Penelope was over the moon that you accepted her invitation. You showed up to Cat and Spencers apartment around 6pm to head over to Penelope’s house together. Your eyes raked over Cat’s frame as she opened the door.

She was wearing a deep red dress that went down to her knees. It had a lace trim and black belt around her waist. Her hair was done in curls which fell to her shoulders. Looking back her face, the dark lipstick she always wears was painted across her now smirking lips.

“Get a good look angel?” she said looking you up and down.

You had on a forrest green dress that fell to your mid-thigh. Your hair was in looser curls and you did minimal makeup.

“Always Mistress,” you said with a wink.

She brought you into a hug and gave you a small squeeze. Looking into the hallway you saw Spencer make his way over to where you stood. He had on one of his dark suits. The only spec of color on him was the red and green tie around his neck and the mix matched Christmas socks peeking from under his slacks.

Once she let you go. Spencer took his turn to wrap his arms around you. You inhaled the scent of his usual peppermint and Calvin Klein cologne. He rocked you back and forth then let go and looked you up and down.

“Both of you look absolutely beautiful tonight,” he said with a small smile.

“Spence come on you look as dashing as always,” you said dusting off his shoulder.

“Well shall we get going?” Cat said shrugging on her coat.

You and Spencer nodded then made your way down to the elevator. Cat’s fingers interlocked with yours as Spencer held his hand at the small of your back.

The car ride there was mostly quiet. You watched as the lit up streets passed you by. Storefronts with reefs and gigantic bows on top of their logos as decoration. Soon enough the driver stopped and they led you to Penelope’s door. You could hear the music from outside and you felt excited for what the night held.

Spencer rang the doorbell and after a minute Penelope whipped the door open. You could smell the booze and gingerbread radiating off of her.

“Hello my little sugar cookies, I’m so glad you could make it.” she said ushering you all in. You gathered she was already too intoxicated to question how you all showed up together. Of course you spoke too soon and she turned around pointing at the three of you.

“Wait how do you all know each other?” she questioned.

You were about to speak up and mention that you became friends after your first time at the club but Cat cut you off.

“Y/n is our girlfriend.”

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥!!! 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐡𝐡, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #cat adams x reader #cat adams smut #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #chellewrites

108 notes · View notes

toraashi · 3 years

Text

princess au ft. chuuya nakahara

Title: Untitled Princess AU

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Genre: Fluff and light angst. One of the awful aristocrats makes a comment about you eating too much, forbidden love *gasp*

Word Count: 1,754

Author’s Note: Hiii! Here it is, the princess au I keep hyping up. It’s actually decent, I won’t lie to you, so I hope you enjoy it! 16 year old me was the biggest weeb (I still am rip), so there is a Kamisama Kiss reference in here I’m cringing but I promise it’s not bad!! Please hmu with your bodyguard!chuuya brainrot to feed my lonlieness when you’re finished reading :)

She reached across the table to select a raspberry pastry, her fingers brushing against the red-head’s as they left her side. He visibly tensed, but she ignored it, along with the minute pang she felt in her chest. The dessert was flaky and crumbly in her fingers, it’s deep, striking red jelly oozing through the cracks in the glazed surface.

“My oh my, are you stuffing your face with delights again? How unsavory.” The person in question twisted her head, hiding her scarlet stained gloves behind her back.

“Lady Nikolina!” She elicited a wry smile from the woman, whose cold eyes disapprovingly darted to her out of view fingers.

“You really ought to think about that figure of yours more. Before you know it, you could be a cream puff! Suitors want slim ladies, dear, not large ones.” A strike of crimson striped her smooth cheeks and she nodded.

“Of course, My Lady.” The princess could practically see her devoted bodyguard’s seething gaze, he always had disliked Lady Nikolina, after all. The protectiveness radiating off of him was comforting, and soon the blush she beheld wasn’t being caused by the snobbish Marquiess before her.

“Speaking of suitors-”

“Actually, my apologies, Nikolina, but I’m afraid I’ve got a dance coming up, and I can’t possibly wait. We shall have to continue this lovely little talk at a later date.” Casting the woman a charming smile, she scurried off, pulling Chuuya along with her. He immediately split their hands.

“Princess.” Their gazes met, his swirling pools of cerulean reprimanding her without a single spoken word, but she got the message, and it burned another hole into her soul.

He couldn’t be with her.

He didn’t want to be with her.

Tears prickled her lashes like raindrops, but she pushed them back, refusing to show vulnerability amongst a crowd of powerful politicians and kings. She could see his hues soften, and then harden merely seconds later, his hand habitually reaching to adjust his hat. His familiar mouth looked so inviting, his orbs safe and comforting, but they were not hers.

When she had admitted her flaming affection to him, she had been sure that he had reciprocated those passionate emotions winding around her heart, but he had swiftly shut her down, all of the fleeting touches and lingering bouts of eye contact dissipating like boiling water, vanishing like a ship at sea, breaking like her fragile heart.

Sweeping her scarlet skirts up into her hands, she traversed the expanse of the ballroom, waving politely to trading partners and their stunning wives, nearly tripping over her golden heels if it weren’t for her companion’s lightning reflexes. A murmured ‘thank you’ kissed her lips, but she was quick to continue walking, her dance card heavy in her pocket.

“Princess! It’s almost time for our dance! Wherever have you been?”

“Lord Mizuki. I was conversing with the lovely Lady Nikolina, I’m afraid.”

“Ah. And what positively thrilling topic did you discuss this time?” A laugh escaped her lips as she gazed up at the snow-headed boy.

“My less than attractive addiction to the cook’s tarts, per usual.” Mizuki's emerald colored eyes followed her every moment as she chuckled at her previous encounter; he held his ivory hand out to her.

“Let’s dance, shall we?” The only person she wanted to dance with was Chuuya, but she obliged, letting her dainty palm rest against his. To say she was shocked when he reached forward and urgently grabbed her forearm was an understatement.

“Chuu...ya?” He immediately released her.

“You better come back right after.” She huffed, swiveling her gaze away from his alluring eyes and letting her suitor tug her away.

He swept her out to the dance floor with grace and agility, weaving through the herds of human beings like a serpent, one hand resting on her corseted waist. Once the waltz had begun, he twirled her and moved her with ease, his grace and royal privilege shining through like the golden sun. His firm grip on the curve of her body was relaxing and coaxing, as if catching her hesitance and disliking for the ordeal.

“My lady, what was that all about with your… bodyguard, is it? I’ve heard he is quite extraordinary.” She let her eyes flutter up to meet his, mind breezing towards Chuuya’s form, his strong arms and beautiful hues.

“You are correct, Lord Mizuki, Chuuya is quite effective. He has his faults, for example, his extreme impatience and impossibly short tempered, but I’ve known him since I was a child.” She looked fondly over at his tense form, narrowed eyes and locked jaw. “He is awfully protective.”

“As I can see.” She averted her eyes back to her dance partner, whose own were sharp and limpid, staring directly at the opposing man.

“Mizuki… you’ve stopped dancing.”

“Ah! Yes, my bad, pardon me, Princess.” He quickly got back into the flow, keeping in sync with the plethora of other couples.

Once the music had faded out, she curtsied slightly towards her companion, immediately leaving the marble beneath her feet and heading towards the sidelines. Rather than immediately treading back towards her designated “lap dog”, a plan formulated in her brilliant mind, one she wouldn’t have been able to pull off with the ability user around.

Hues flicking to Chuuya’s position (he was clearly searching for her), she scurried towards the back stairway, grabbing Lady Nikolina’s garish hat directly off of her head as a disguise. Swinging her hips in the Marquiess’ fashion, she easily traversed the velvet carpeted steps, gloved hand delicately running up the glass railing, tracing each intricate design and emblem. Lady Nikolina’s rooms were just down the hall, so she presumed that if she headed left she could discreetly loop around without causing a commotion. Chuuya wouldn’t risk a confrontation with Nikolina even if he suspected it was the princess. She flicked her hands towards the guard discriminatingly, as a sort of greeting so he knew where she was headed off to, which she hoped he assumed was her chambers. Refraining from viewing the astounding paintings of her heritage lining the towering walls and sky-breaking ceiling, she stepped forward with urgency, gold slippers clicking on the obsidian beneath her feet. She could practically feel freedom in her hands, the balcony merely meters away, she could feel the cool autumn air piercing her lungs, the comforting hum of crickets and light gabber of guests still entering her father’s party.

The shining glass french doors were open in moments, and she spun in euphoria; no more pining suitors, no more reprimanding love interests, no more chastising Marquesses; her plan had been utterly foolproof. Except for one little detail.

Just as she had gotten used to her balcony experience, the entryway slammed open again, a deep, familiar voice slicing through the silence like a bomb, loud and uncontrollable.

“Oi! What the hell do you think you’re doing out here?! Running away like that? Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to recognize you with someone else’s hat on?!” She gulped bracing herself for the lecture to come. “You’re such a stubborn little shit. First you insist on wearing that absurdly fancy dress, then you decide to waltz with that sly snake Mizuki, and for some reason you still have the nerve to sneak away from the ball- from me!” His glare could kill the fluffiest of bunny rabbits, but it didn’t faze her.

“Well, maybe you should stop being a prick about your actions! I could care less whether you held my hand, you idiot!” She thrust her arms down to her sides. “And what does my dress or Lord Mizuki have anything to do with this?! Are you just jealous or something?!” A low growl rose from his throat like the impending rumble of distant thunder, but she was unperturbed. “I’m not stupid, Chuu! I know you feel just the same way I do! I’ve known you for years, you dumbass!” A wisp of hair tumbled in front of her eyes, shielding the building tears from the man. They rebelliously streaked down her rosy cheeks moments later anyway, like rain pouring from (e/c) clouds. She swore she heard a relenting sigh puff out into the silence, but her own quiet whimpers made her unsure of his intentions. Abruptly, one lithe arm looped around her waist tugging her in, his head balancing on top her hers and consequently sending her glittering tiara tumbling to the floor.

“Listen up, [Name].” She felt a bout of dizziness waft over her as she breathed in his addictive scent of cologne and wine, her corset suddenly felt wound too tightly, and she couldn’t breathe.

“Chuuya…”

“You’re a princess. I’m your bodyguard. You are supposed to be married off to a wealthy prince, not your me.”

“I don’t care.”

“See? That’s the problem. I care because my job is on the line.” Craning her head up, she met her eyes with his shockingly blue ones, pleading from the depths of her heart.

“You’d choose your job over me?” He grumbled, fixing his hat.

“You are my job, dumbass.” Continuing to look up at him through her lashes, she tossed the bait.

“Are you saying you don’t want to lose me?” Hook. Line. Sinker. He peered back at her, a light flush across his cheeks. His gaze never left her, and they sat in a forcefield of quiet for five minutes before she made a move, leaning forward into his space. Allowing her lids to flitter closed, she met his lips boldly, the warmth from him enveloping her entire being, drawing her in, and he managed to kiss back, soon becoming more passionate than her. Hands flying to her waist, he tugged her flush against him, her arms winding around his neck and plunging into the forest of orange that topped his head.

“[Name]...” He murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. His longing was simple to spot in his deep, flaming smooches against her lips, and she was feeling the same emotions course through her. He loved her. She loved him. They had known since they had both realized it within themselves.

She was the first to draw away, and he immediately tried to capture her lips again, but she held him back, smiling slightly. The snarky remark lingering on her tongue melted away when she met his eyes, her heart swelling at his adoring expression.

“You’re right,” He murmured gruffly, keeping her close. “I do love you.”

MASTERLIST

Request Here!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd chuuya #chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #chuuya fluff #chuuya princess au #chuuya bodyguard au #chuuya angst #chuuya scenarios #chuuya imagines #chuuya x you

68 notes · View notes

there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

Text

Sharp Edges

Sam Winchester x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~4880

Warnings: BDSM. Pain play and impact play (hands only, no tools) and discussion of sadism/masochism. The working title for this was “Reluctant Sadist Sam.” Memories of a time Sam pushed the limits of a previously negotiated BDSM scene. Very brief non-explicit masturbation. No actual sex, but it’s very sexy... or at least I think it is?

A/N: This pairing just, like, snuck up and made itself my OTP when I wasn’t looking, and I’m kinda obsessed with it. Big thanks to @mskathywriteswords for a super helpful edit, to @stunudo for an early read and characterization cheerleading (plus this whole Spencer Reid Thing, which is pretty much her fault), and to @fookinghelljensensthighs, for a brainstorming sesh about crucial jizz-related plot questions.

Sam hesitates outside the door for longer than he wants to admit. He’s been thinking about this for years, now. It’s not like there’s any doubt left in his mind, but stepping through that door makes it real. Until he steps through that door, he can brush this off; he only acted on the impulses when he didn’t have a soul, right? They’re not his. Not really.

They are. He knows it.

Years of wondering, guilt, self-loathing. Months of research, asking around, making connections. Weeks since he got the invitation, weeks of nervous anticipation and doubt. Fuck if he’s backing out now, even if he does feel like he’s choking.

He wipes sweaty palms on his jeans and goes inside.

He’s not expecting Lindsey to remember him, but she does, and she greets him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. She’s wearing knee-high boots and a corset that shoves her cleavage up toward her chin, and Sam feels underdressed in his plain black t-shirt, not to mention painfully inexperienced.

“Want a soda or anything?” she asks brightly, like she’s the head of the PTA instead of the dungeon mistress. “Need me to show you around?”

“No, thanks,” Sam says, tucking his hair behind his ears nervously. “I think… I think I might just want to hang back for a bit.”

“Of course, sweetheart, whatever you need.”

Sam’s good at hiding his fear; he’s practically made a career of it. He puts on his most confident mask and starts walking.

He’s not really sure where to look, at first. His immediate instinct is to avert his eyes. There’s a startling amount of skin on display, but more importantly, there are scenes being played out all around him that are straight out of Sam’s fantasies - the dark, secret ones - the ones he couldn’t admit to, for most of his life.

It took losing his soul to ask for what he really wanted.

The memories from that time, back when something important was missing, are tinted red and foggy. He was selfish, when he didn’t have a soul. It’s the one thing he’s always vowed not to be.

He met a girl in a bar, somewhere in Colorado, and he took her to whatever grimy motel he was calling home that night. When he asked, she giggled, giving him some stupid line about needing to be punished, but when she realized he didn’t just mean a couple light smacks on the ass, she asked him to stop. He shrugged, fucked her anyway, and told her to leave.

The next night, he found a professional, and he made sure they negotiated the price before he took her back to the motel. Even then… Sam feels a twist of guilt when he remembers the moment her moans became whimpers of pain, the look of apprehension in her eyes when she realized she might be in over her head. She never used her safeword, but he knew she wasn’t comfortable with it.

He’d made it up to her, of course, afterward, even before he paid her, but it wasn’t out of any selfless desire to see his partner enjoy herself. It was just ego, just another game. The predator in him just wanted to see if he could make her beg for more after she’d begged him to stop.

When Sam got his soul back, there was a laundry list of foggy red memories that made him feel slimy and sick with shame, but that little vignette was one of the worst.

Sam doesn’t want it to be like that. He doesn’t want to be that brutal, selfish person who got what he needed, no matter the cost.

He wants romance: dinner and a movie, flowers, shy first kisses. He wants those things, but he’s starting to realize that he needs more. He needs that sharp edge of pain with his pleasure. He knows, logically, that there are people out there who need to feel it, in the same way he needs to cause it. It’s a matter of finding the right puzzle piece, is all.

All around him, now, he hears people asking for more, yes, harder, and there’s a sweet, breathless relief coursing through him. He pauses in front of a couple, watching the dom unclip his partner’s leather cuffs from where she’s chained to a ring in the wall. She’s smiling as he murmurs something Sam can’t hear.

“Please,” she says, beaming up at her partner with this incredible blissed-out expression on her face.

Sam’s stomach swoops with such an intense longing that it’s almost painful. He looks away.

He wants that.

Sam glances around the room again, and his eyes catch on a man who looks like he should be in a college lecture hall, instead of a BDSM party. The guy sticks out like a sore thumb in this sea of black and red and leather; Sam can’t help but notice him, and once he notices, it’s hard to tear his gaze away. He’s wearing a sweater-vest and a tie, for fuck’s sake. He’s got a mop of long, messy hair that makes Sam want to tug.

The longer Sam looks, the more he notices the sharp edges. The guy is tall and twig-thin, gangly, all elbows and angles. The line of his jaw looks like it was cut with a razor.

It’s not just the shape of him, though, that’s making Sam think of glinting steel and the rasp of a whetstone. The guy is on his own, hanging back in the same way Sam is, observing… his eyes dart around the room, glancing back and forth, taking it all in with a bright, clear, whip-smart awareness. He’s not smiling, and there’s nothing about his body language that’s welcoming. If someone handled him the wrong way, he’d slice them open.

Sam’s hands twitch. He wants to fit his fingers to the angle of those bones, thumb along the underside of the jaw, index finger running up to the cheekbone. He imagines it would be a perfect fit.

Sam shivers and looks away.

He sneaks a glance again, a few seconds later. The guy’s looking right at him. Sam’s stomach flips. He smiles hesitantly, and gets a blatant assessment in return, an appraising up-and-down. Sam feels like he’s passed some sort of test when the guy starts walking toward him, weaving easily through the crowd.

He stops abruptly when he’s in front of Sam, and Sam feels off-balance, somehow.

“I’m Spencer,” he says, in a soft scratchy voice that makes Sam want to lean in to hear better.

“Sam.” He sticks out his hand.

Spencer doesn’t take it; he waves instead, an awkward little gesture that’s oddly goofy and endearing, even with the frown line creasing his forehead and the shrewd expression on his face.

“You’re the new guy Lindsey was telling me about.” He tilts his head, almost birdlike as he blinks and waits.

“I… guess so? Why would she…”

“I assumed she meant new here, but you’re new to all of it, aren’t you?” It’s not a question.

Sharp, Sam thinks again, flustered. He shrugs.

Spencer’s eyes flick over his face like he’s reading lines of text. There’s something closed-off about the way he’s holding himself, tension in his features, mistrustful or maybe defensive.

Spencer licks his lips as he thinks, and Sam stares at his mouth. His mouth isn’t all points and angles like the rest of him; it’s plush and pink, wide, expressive.

“Hey, Professor,” says a woman, brushing a hand down Spencer’s arm as she passes, and Spencer gives her a quirk of his lips that’s not quite a smile.

“Are you really a professor?” Sam asks.

“No. It’s just because of the way I dress.” He says it matter-of-factly, but Sam notices the way his eyes drop for a second. He’s self-conscious.

“I can’t picture you in leather pants,” Sam says wryly.

“But you’re trying, aren’t you?” Spencer asks, with a flicker of an amused, mischievous smile. It’s gone just as quick as it came, but it leaves Sam feeling warm and pleased. He already wants to see that smile again.

“I think I missed the memo about the uniform,” he admits.

Spencer glances around and says, “I can see how adhering to a certain set of aesthetic cues would help members of a subculture identify each other in everyday life, but it does seem unnecessary here. Something about dressing up just to meet expectations seems disingenuous.”

“You’re really not a professor?” Sam asks, almost unbearably curious.

“No.” Spencer hesitates. “To answer your earlier question, Lindsey told me to keep an eye out for you because she seemed to think we were here for… similar reasons.”

“Oh,” Sam manages. He feels hot and cold and panicky, and he wishes he’d gotten a drink, if only to have something to do with his hands. “You, um. You like…”

“Pain,” Spencer says crisply, with an almost clinical detachment. “I enjoy experiencing pain. And you enjoy inflicting it.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, mouth dry.

Spencer’s watching him closely, frowning again. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you know.”

“I… yeah,” Sam says. “I guess I know that? Just, um, I always thought of myself as pretty traditional. Not big on one night stands, I like… relationships.”

“And you don’t think people who are into BDSM can have traditional relationships?” Spencer asks, smirking slightly.

Foot, meet mouth.

“No, not like that, I just - if I’m into someone, I want to treat them right. I’m a romantic.”

“A beating can be very romantic,” Spencer deadpans.

Sam sputters out a laugh. “I - I guess. Sure.”

“So, what, you’ve always been about the Al Green and missionary, and you figured you’d try something new?” His voice is dry and amused, and he’s watching Sam, just waiting for a reaction to the needling.

“Not exactly,” Sam says, grimacing.

“What, exactly, then?”

Sam can’t remember the last time anyone made him feel like this, like the conversation is a fencing match that he’s losing spectacularly; Spencer disarmed him already and is still toying with him, landing one glancing blow after another, just to see if he can.

Sam stammers for a second before saying, “I’ve always been interested in this, I just - never had an opportunity, really.”

“Don’t lie. You don’t have any reason to be embarrassed,” Spencer says, frowning.

Sam sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He forces himself to spit out the truth: “I always wanted to think of myself as a nice guy. The things I want… there’s nothing nice about what I want, when it comes to sex. I couldn’t admit that until recently.”

Spencer smiles, and his whole face is incandescent with it. He tamps down the wattage of the smile with a twitch of his lips, eyes darting around as he thinks. Sam gets the feeling he already knew the answer, and was just waiting to see whether Sam would admit it.

“It’s not always about sex,” Spencer offers. “Sometimes you just… want to get out of your head, you know?”

Sam considers that for a moment, and he looks at Spencer, watching his fingers as they tap a silent rhythm against the side of his leg.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, and he’s proud of himself for how steady his voice sounds.

“Maybe.” Spencer meets his gaze evenly. “But you’re very strong, very inexperienced, and very anxious, and that’s not usually a good combination in someone who gets off on being in charge.”

Sam bristles instinctively before he hears the question in it.

“That’s not - it’s not like that,” he says with a sigh. “It’s not a power trip thing. It’s not about overpowering someone, I don’t want to tie you up, I don’t - it’s not like that. And I’m not inexperienced.”

Spencer’s eyes narrow. “You said -”

“I’m new to this,” Sam interrupts, and gestures around them at the party. “I’m not new to… pain.”

For the first time, there’s a hint of curiosity in Spencer’s eyes, an inkling that he doesn’t have Sam quite as figured out as he’d thought.

“Why are you here, then? What do you want to get out of this?” Spencer asks.

Sam thinks about that, trying not to fidget as he figures out how to say it.

“I don’t want it to be just about… what I get out of it,” Sam says slowly. “I want someone who - who needs it the same way I do, so that it’s not… I don’t want it to be something I do to someone, I want to do this with someone.” He hesitates and adds, “With you. If you want.”

He can see Spencer analyzing him, analyzing his words, weighing the odds, calculating the risks.

“I’m not going to have sex with you. Not tonight,” Spencer says coolly. “You can touch yourself, but I’m not going to touch you.”

Sam shrugs. “Okay.”

“No tools, no toys, no restraints, not the first time.” His voice is dispassionate, matter-of-fact, like he’s reading out a grocery list. “Just your hands. You can scratch, but don’t draw blood.”

“Okay,” Sam says. He’s glad Spencer said it before he had to admit he wasn’t confident enough, yet, to use a flogger on a stranger. His voice cracks. “Safeword?”

“Lateral orbitofrontal cortex.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I’m aware that it’s three words.”

It startles a laugh out of Sam. “That’s not what I meant.”

Spencer’s mouth twitches as he suppresses a smile. “Seriously. But I only say ‘stop’ if I really mean it.”

“I understand. If I didn’t get the joke, would you have called this whole thing off?”

Spencer’s lips twitch again. He just shrugs. “Anything else we need to talk about?”

“After?” Sam asks. “What can I - how do I help, afterward?”

Spencer pauses, a strange expression flickering over his face for a moment before he says, “Don’t leave?”

It sounds like a question. Sam doesn’t think it was supposed to sound like a question.

“Of course. Is that all?”

Spencer shrugs. “That’s all. Just. Stay, for a minute. I’ll tell you, if there’s anything else I need. That’s the only thing I… can’t always bring myself to ask for, in the moment.”

He gives Sam a very practiced, casual sort of smile, nonchalant, blinking up at him innocently as if to say I’m fine! See?

The protector in Sam is snarling. He just nods calmly.

“What about you?” Spencer asks.

Sam frowns, taken aback by that. It didn’t occur to him that he might need to be taken care of.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Is that okay?”

“Yes. That’s okay,” Spencer says. This time his little half-smile is sweet and genuine.

Sam looks around nervously. “Is there anywhere more private? This isn’t really...”

“Agreed,” Spencer says. “There’s an open door policy, I’m sure Lindsey explained, but there are other rooms where there won’t be a crowd.”

He leads Sam through the living room, heading up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. Sam catches glimpses of scenes through three open doors before they reach the last room. It’s small, some sort of office, he thinks, lit dimly enough to feel comfortable. There’s no bed, just a loveseat, an end table, and a desk with an office chair, but the desk holds an assortment of toys, chains, and condoms instead of a computer.

It’s quieter, here. It feels warmer, too, but that might just be Sam’s nerves kicking in. He glances at the open door instinctively as Spencer starts to loosen his tie.

Spencer notices, of course. “There’s an understanding, with the regulars, that this is where you go if you don’t really want an audience.”

Sam nods and turns to get a better look at some of the implements on the desk, skin prickling with adrenaline. He runs his fingers over the sleek handle of a riding crop, imagining the sound it would make on skin.

He’s all too aware of his own inexperience, and he’s all too aware of how badly he could hurt someone with a misplaced blow from the gorgeous leather whip that’s lying next to the crop. He’d want to practice, first, and he’d want to be with someone he trusts, but there’s no denying that he wants.

Someday, he thinks, and shivers.

When he turns around again, Spencer’s putting a neatly folded pile of clothes on the loveseat. He brushes his hair out of his eyes as he straightens up, tilting his chin almost defiantly to meet Sam’s gaze. He still looks sharp around the edges, from the angular shape of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as he swallows, to the jut of his hipbones. There’s something brittle about the way he holds himself.

“Where do you want me?” he asks quietly, with a crack in his voice that belies the careful blankness on his face. “Um, bearing in mind that most of this room is probably highly unsanitary and I’m something of a germaphobe. Minimal contact with furniture would be… ideal.” He wrinkles his nose and Sam huffs out a laugh.

“Over here. Brace yourself against the wall.”

Spencer walks over silently and settles with his forearms on the wall, his head bowed, and goes completely still.

Sam lets himself stare for one long moment, taking it all in: the delicate curve of his bent neck, the prominent ridge of his spine, the lean muscles that shift under pale skin, shoulder blades that Sam wants to run his thumb across to test whether they’d cut him as easily as he imagines.

There’s tension in the way he’s holding himself, though. Sam frowns to himself and steps closer.

Sam’s been hiding this, his whole life; he’s been burying this sharp, nasty piece of himself, ignoring need in favor of romance, affection, emotion. He didn’t think they could coexist.

He has a feeling that Spencer’s been doing the opposite: slipping into this formal, scripted exchange of limits and safewords and scientific explanations, being perfectly clear about what he needs but never admitting what he wants.

The party is still going on outside, but the silence between them is heavy enough to drown out the noise of it. Sam takes one deep breath, then another, syncing his inhales to the steady rise of Spencer’s shoulders, and sidles closer, standing at Spencer’s side where he’s visible.

He hesitates for a moment, wondering if he’s crossing a line, before following his instinct and resting a gentle hand on Spencer’s back, right between his shoulderblades. Spencer doesn’t flinch at the touch, but Sam can tell he’s surprised.

“You good?” Sam asks quietly.

Spencer turns his head slightly, looking sideways at Sam through long lashes.

“I’m good,” he whispers, in that soft, smoky voice.

“Okay.”

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth crooks up in a shy half-smile. “I’m not gonna break. I’m stronger than I look.”

“I’d fuckin’ hope so, cause you look like I could snap you with my pinky finger,” Sam says bluntly. Spencer ducks his head and laughs, bright and surprised, and Sam can feel the vibrations of it under his palm.

“Fair enough,” Spencer says, grinning as he goes still again. He’s not tense any more, though. He’s calm, breathing evenly under Sam’s hand.

Sam rests his fingertips on the nape of Spencer’s neck for a moment, making his intentions clear. The first drag of his nails is gentle, nowhere near enough pressure to sting. He twists his wrist to drag them back up along the same path, still gentle, and then moves to repeat the process on a new strip of skin, once and then again. He can see the goosebumps running down Spencer’s arms, the way his neck arches, silently asking for more.

“Are you sure?” Sam asks.

His voice is quiet, but there’s no hesitation when he whispers, “Yes.”

Sam curls his fingers in and drags one knuckle down the knobby bumps of his vertebrae.

“Okay,” he repeats.

Every lingering bit of doubt and hesitation and anxiety disappear with the first sharp crack of his palm coming down. Spencer hisses in a breath, shivers, and Sam exhales with him.

His body goes fizzy and focused, suddenly. It’s like in the last moments of a fight, when Sam knows he’ll win, he knows exactly what to do, he sees what needs to happen with absolute clarity, and all that’s left is to trust his muscles to get the job done. It feels good. It feels like this is exactly where Sam’s meant to be.

Two more blows, in quick succession, and the next exhale is more like a gasp. The sound sends heat lancing through Sam’s gut.

He’s careful about it, precise, still holding back, as he moves lower. He knows how to use his hands, how to hit with just the right amount of force, which spots will hurt, which spots he should avoid unless he wants to cause real damage. Sam’s been practicing for this his whole life, in a way.

He lands a light smack on one thigh, then the other, then harder, on the same spots. Sam’s vision tunnels down to the red flush that’s already blossoming on Spencer’s pale skin. Something dark and possessive curls in his stomach.

The next impact pulls a rough, gorgeous sound from Spencer’s throat. Sam gives him a second to recover before doing it again, and then again, until his palm is smarting with the force of it.

He pauses abruptly. He can see the way Spencer tenses, waiting for a blow that doesn’t come. Instead Sam brushes the tips of his fingers over red, heated skin, feather-light, making Spencer shudder, before dragging three fingernails delicately up his spine again.

“I like the way my handprints look on you,” Sam says quietly. Spencer sucks in a shaky breath. Sam rakes his fingernails down again, digging in this time, and Spencer’s exhale breaks on a low, gravelly groan.

The raised red lines trail down his back, a perfect set of three all the way down the right side of his spine. Sam takes a moment to admire them before giving him a matching set on the left. He traces those lines again, smoothing them with his fingertips, fascinated by the feel of raised flesh.

Spencer is trembling, but he’s still, waiting, ready, and there’s a dizzying level of trust implicit in that stillness.

Sam’s blindsided by the gut-punch of arousal he feels at that realization. He takes a deep breath, putting it to the side. He’s determined to prove to himself that this doesn’t have to be selfish.

He brings his hand down again with a powerful snap of his wrist that makes Spencer whimper. His skin must be sensitive now, blood rushing to every spot Sam’s marked, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

Sam puts some muscle into the next one, and that’s saying something. He’s strong, he knows he is, and he pauses to gauge the reaction. Spencer lets out another of those breathy, beautiful whimpers, and Sam can see the shudder that goes through him. Sam rakes his fingernails up the tender, overheated skin he just hit, nothing gentle about it, and Spencer arches his back, squirming slightly.

He’s panting; they both are. Sam realizes that they’re breathing in sync, and he takes another deep heaving breath that matches the rise and fall of Spencer’s shoulders.

Sam gives in to the urge, finally, and tangles his fingers in Spencer’s hair, tugging his head back so Sam can see his face clearly: eyes closed, lashes fluttering, a sheen of sweat on those lethal cheekbones, his mouth slack. There’s a flush decorating the pale skin, patchy, spilling all the way from his cheeks to the hollow of his neck and down his chest. He looks totally relaxed, peaceful, like he could melt under Sam’s hands.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Sam bites out, before he can help himself, and then asks, “You good?”

“Yes.” It’s a gasp more than a word. Spencer’s eyes are still closed.

“More?”

Spencer licks his lips and swallows hard, and Sam watches the way his throat moves with it. He whispers, “Please.”

Heat thuds through Sam’s belly, urgent and overwhelming. He ignores it, ignores how hard he is, ignores everything but the way Spencer’s head lolls forward when Sam releases his hair and the way he moans at the next hit.

Sam’s not holding back any more.

There’s a rhythm to it: the sound of his palm, crack, and the choked, rasping sound that it pulls from Spencer’s lips, nnngh, and the steady thump-thump of Sam’s heartbeat pounding in his ears, and it crescendos quickly, until the ragged cries turn desperate and wrecked.

“Last one,” he warns.

Crack.

“I need -”

Sam thinks of Spencer’s “no touching” rule, but he can’t bring himself to move away entirely. He tangles his fingers in Spencer’s hair again, tugging gently and then combing through the messy curls, and Spencer leans into it, catlike. He lets out a deep, ragged groan as he touches himself, movements fast and urgent.

“Did so good,” Sam says fiercely. His fingers twist and tug, sharp enough to sting, and he curls the other hand around Spencer’s side, digging his thumbnail into the ridge of his hipbone. That’s all it takes; he can feel the head-to-toe shudder, the last surge of tension before Spencer shakes almost violently under his hands.

Spencer crumples like a puppet with his strings cut.

“C’mere, I’ve got you,” Sam says hoarsely, getting an arm around him and maneuvering so that they both have their backs to the wall as they slide to the floor.

Spencer ends up tucked against Sam’s side, folded under his arm like he belongs there. He’s breathing harsh and heavy, and Sam cups the round of his shoulder with one hand, running his thumb in mindlessly soothing circles, waiting for him to come back to himself.

As for Sam… he’s hard, still, more turned on than he can remember being in a long time, but there’s the strangest sense of calm settling into his body, a bone-deep satisfaction that has nothing to do with sex.

This isn’t the same vicious, feral sort of satisfaction that he remembers. It’s nothing like crimson-tinted memories of lashing out rough and wild, like some sort of savage animal he’d unleashed. There’s nothing selfish about this.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathless at the wave of blissed-out relief that’s crashing down around him.

“You good?” he asks, falling back on what seems to be his mantra for the evening.

“I’m… no, not really, hang on,” Spencer mumbles, and Sam flinches, moving away instinctively.

“Shit, sorry, what -”

“No, wait, that’s not - just… can you reach the tissues, or do I actually have to stand up right now?” Spencer asks, with a disgruntled sort of glare at the box of Kleenex on the end table.

Sam laughs, awkward and self-conscious. Spencer blinks owlishly up at him, shaking his hair out of his eyes. Then a smile spreads over his face slowly and he’s laughing too as Sam leans and stretches over to grab the box.

“The male orgasm is really inconvenient sometimes,” Spencer mutters.

Sam lets out another snort of laughter, looking away to give him some privacy as he cleans up. He’s not sure what the etiquette of this whole situation is; it’s such a strange thing, oddly intimate, and even though Sam’s still fully-dressed, he feels exposed in a way he’s not used to.

“Now I’m good,” Spencer says quietly. He’s got his knees tucked up to his chest, arms wrapped loosely around them, but he tilts his head back against the wall and aims a hazy, heavy-lidded stare at Sam. His lips part and curl up in a barely-there smile, and his tongue flicks out over the pink curve of his lower lip.

Those edges that Sam first noticed are harder to see, now; he’s all soft eyes and softer mouth, flushed skin, messy hair… all except the line of his jaw. That’s still wickedly, unmistakably sharp.

Spencer should come with a warning sign: handle with care. Sam’s not sure who that sign would be protecting. It could be handle with care: fragile, or, just as easily, handle with care: sharp edges.

Either way, there’s a good chance of someone getting hurt here.

“Can I kiss you?” Sam asks.

Spencer’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly with surprise, and his pupils are huge and dark, liquid-looking, hypnotic. He blinks, slowly, and suddenly looks about ten years younger. He’d been so self-assured ordering Sam not to draw blood; that confidence is gone, now, like he’s had less experience with kissing than with telling people how to hit him.

Oh, Sam thinks, and tries not to let his own surprise show on his face.

“Yes,” Spencer whispers. He licks his lower lip again before adding, thready and shy, “Please.”

Sam reaches out slowly. His pinky, ring, and middle fingers curl around the side of Spencer’s neck, sliding through thin, sweat-damp strands of hair. The L-shape of his thumb and index finger slots to the angle of Spencer’s jaw. He can feel the bone under thin skin, the way the pad of his thumb nestles so neatly between the hard edge of jawbone and the soft give of vulnerable throat.

It’s a perfect fit.

#spencer reid #sam winchester #spn #criminal minds #sam winchester x spencer reid

141 notes · View notes

straydawg-writing · 3 years

Text

𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙-𝖒𝖊-𝖓𝖔𝖙

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ.

• bungo stray dogs series

chapter 3: 𝖉𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖑 — 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌

✥ ⊱ ────── ♔ ────── ⊰ ✥

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ✫ ˚✩

┊ ┊ ✫

┊ ┊

┊ ⊹ ☪︎⋆

✯ ⋆

˚✩

"COME IN."

it nearly took all of kita's might to push open the monstrous gothic-styled doors of the boss' office. as of late, mori had been assigning her more and more tasks that she readily accepted. she had nothing else to do, no other reason to live, except for dedicating herself to the port mafia.

daylight emanated from a long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, brightening up the dark space and shining on the royal maroon carpet. ahead of her sat the boss, in all of his dignity and glory.

"you called?" kita began, standing tall when she spoke.

mori was not a man she wanted to appear frail in front of. kita was confident she would win over his trust and respect in due time, and was determined not to waste the chance he had given her when he had taken her in. as a woman in the port mafia, she had to work harder than anyone else to be taken seriously. many believed that she didn't belong there, but she was okay with that. after all, kita had no intention of being mixed with juvenile delinquent men.

"you did well on your last job. but of course, you know that i can't have you rest and let that eager spirit rot away."

"i'd expect that, boss. what did you have in mind?" kita asked, twiling a strand of black hair between her fingers.

"this job involves retrieving the marcello family's confidential files. they've attempted hiding a business of money laundering despite our... how should i say this? our 'small' warning example. the mission should be easy enough."

the sound of tall double doors parting open echoed throughout the room and interrupted kita's response. she felt the presence of someone else coming in, stopping only when they were right next to her.

"hey, boss."

"nice to see you dazai," mori greeted the boy, intertwining his hands and resting them on his desk.

dazai was here. why did she suddenly feel butterflies, when not even meeting the port mafia boss stirred nerves like these within her?

"i don't understand. if the mission is so easy, what is he doing here?" kita glanced his way, startled when she saw him staring back.

"did i forget to mention? although just one person is needed to steal the item, this mission requires two people. the marcello family enjoys their parties. you'll be infiltrating their next one, as an unsuspecting couple."

everything slowed down. kita was sure she misheard, mori's last words hanging on his lips and repeating in her mind like a mantra. go as a couple?

you could ask her to kill an army of men and it would be simpler than this. she had only just met him last night –no– it would be easier if she didn't know him at all.

"is that agreeable with you, kita?"

it wasn't like she had a choice, a job was an order in disguise. mori had that same look on his face that he pulled whenever he was picking out a new babydoll dress for elise. the man was up to something, and she wasn't sure how to feel.

"sounds good to me!" dazai answered for her, shoving his hands in his pockets.

then it was settled. looking towards the bandaged boy, kita shook off her wariness and cracked a smile. she wouldn't mind getting to know him better.

"alright. how bad could it be?"

kita's mirror reflection stared back at her, beauteous and sweet. a silk black dress hung daintily on her hips, and a laced corset traced her curves. ringlets of jet-black hair spilled over her collarbones, the midnight shades creating a striking contrast with her ivory pearl skin that was spellbinding. she sighed as she closed the drawer which held her lipstick. despite her natural desire to stand out in a crowd, kita knew that tonight she would be dressing to blend in. still, she couldn't help but ask herself in the back of her mind if she was dressing to impress.

'it's just a mission. just a mission. just a mission,' she told herself as she twisted open the doorknob of her room. little did she expect to see the man himself, standing right outside of her bedroom door.

"how long have you been standing there?" she rested her hand on her hip, pursing her lips.

"from my perspective, it looks like you were the one waiting for me to get here," dazai said, holding out a single red camellia flower.

"'you're a flame in my heart', huh?" kita observed, taking the flower in her pale hands.

"is that a confession?" he asked, with a cheeky grin.

oh, so he's a flirt.

"that's just what the flower means, stupid."

she took this chance to take in the sight of him. his hair was the same as always –tousled chocolate locks falling over his sweetly intense brown eyes– and you were glad he hadn't changed it. dazai's usual bandages were covered up by the sleeves of his black slate tux. the suit looked made for him, fitting his body perfectly in every crevice. you had to admit, dazai looked a little bit handsome.

"i know, i asked chuuya. who knew he spoke flowers too? although... he did try starting a fight in the middle of the courtyard, calling me an 'enemy of all women,'" dazai pouted, making finger quotations before he quickly changed moods again. it was something she had noticed he seemed to do often. his playful eyes were now dripping with a more flirtatious undertone.

"the boss ordered us to personate two fiances madly in love. so... let's play the part, shall we?" dazai mischievously bowed down to her height, gently taking kita's small hand in his and leaving a kiss on her smooth skin. he knew he had caught her in his trap- she couldn't argue with the boss himself.

kita let out a small exhale, interlacing his hands with her own.

"fine, you win. but drop the 'madly in love.'."

"mr. and mrs. iwazaki-to-be?" the doorman asked for confirmation, with a paper and quill to cross off guest names.

"that's us!" dazai enthusiastically expressed with an arm around kita, placing a kiss on her temple to sell the act.

the doorman, who seemed to be in his late sixties, looked up from his paper and sent the pair a warming smile.

"i miss my girl every day... congratulations." he held up his ring finger to show them, and motioned for them to join the party. "enjoy the night!"

the pair entered the party through a towering marbled creme archway. space had opened up to accommodate a grand scene of painted people with most likely debatable motives, drinking from their champagne glasses and dancing to a luxurious orchestra. a waft of expensive colognes and perfumes flooded their senses. it smelt like the rich. businessmen stroke deals, wives exchanged the newest slice of gossip, and old men watched from the sidelines, whistling for girls in their royal dresses of all colors.

kita suddenly developed an appreciation for not having come alone. the fake engagement ring decorating her ring finger marked her as claimed. in other words: kept the old, perverted, corrupted politicians away. not as if she couldn't beat them to a pulp if need be.

a large marble staircase that matched the entrance winded the perimeter of the main floor, leading up to the room which held their files. but for now, their foremost concern was appearing ordinary, becoming like everybody else of the night. to play the part of the happy-go-lucky-couple-in-love.

the boss had asked her first. this was her mission.

grabbing dazai by the chin who was distracted by the red-velvet cupcakes on display, kita turned his face down to look at her.

"dance with me."

"okey. but yowr sqwuisching mey fasce," dazai replied, face indeed squished as his lips were forced into a pout. she let go with a grin, satisfied with his response.

maneuvering through men in studded suits and women in extravagant dresses that took up half of the floor, a new waltz had begun by the time she pulled him onto the dance floor with her.

"i forgot to tell you earlier, but you clean up really nicely, dazai." kita commented, her arms loosely tangled around his neck.

they turned elegantly, in tune with the slow music, and standing closer than ever before. kita could feel his breath on her skin as he held her waist. this close to him, his natural scent was intoxicating. he was rich, like caramel. a breath of fresh air from the sea of headache-inducing colognes. if by the end of this dance, her breath was taken away, she would know why.

"you look... irresistible," dazai's eyes widened slightly. he kept his attention on her as he whimsically guided the girl across the dance floor, taking her anywhere he pleased– and she let him. no matter what dazai did, he always had the same fanciful air about him. even now, she felt he was taking her into a dream.

the warmth between them continued to increase, along with their rising heartbeats, until the song had faded into the distance and the only thing that mattered was their steps in sync, their breathing one.

'it's all an act.'

"let's find a room upstairs," he whispered in her ear, pulling her out of the crowd and up the staircase once the song had ended.

any guests attending the event were too engrossed in their own party and pleasure to notice them disappear. from where kita stood, she could see them all dancing like porcelain dolls in a make-believe show.

"this one." dazai pointed, opening a door with a plaque that read, 'j. marcello's office.'

time was of the essence, and yet dazai didn't seem the least bit concerned as he strolled over to the mahogany desk that sat underneath a window. he opened one drawer in particular with a mass of cigarettes the owner had never bothered throwing out, and tossed them all into the trash can.

"if he wants to meet his end with an insufferable death, this'll do it." dazai tsked and shook his head as he tossed another one behind him and scored. "couldn't ever be me..."

"don't you think he'll notice?"

"he'll also notice when his papers are gone. i'm simply doing him a favor~" dazai chuckled.

kita was digging through files and trying to distract herself from the taller male as much as possible, ever since the dance they shared so intimately lingered in her mind. she was so distracted that she didn't hear the sudden sound of a door opening, and just as quickly as the door opened, she had been pulled into dazai's embrace and leaned over the desk.

his soft lips crashed into hers, causing an obvious expression of surpise as she felt his warm hands riding up the side of her face, the other arm leaning on the desk behind her and trapping her underneath him– but she guessed it was only to give the mysterious person the wrong idea.

she only hesitated for a moment before kissing him back, going along with the act as she pulled on his tie to regain her balance. the kiss barely lasted about five seconds, but to kita it felt like an eternity. his kiss was so sudden she had already ran out of breath and was running on nothing at all but his own oxygen.

"s-sorry! you can't be in here!" an embarrassed voice called out, shutting the door as soon as it had opened.

when the door had closed, dazai swiftly released his hold on her.

"all that and still no files," he sighed, scratching his head.

"you sure about that?" kita smirked, running her tongue over the lingering taste of sugar-coated lips. peaking from behind her back was a folder that she had stolen from the drawer's hidden compartment.

"kita! oh i could kiss you," dazai's mouth opened in childish awe. if this were an animation, his eyes would have sparkled.

"you already did. guess you couldn't resist huh?"

"aren't you the one who kissed me back?" he raised an eyebrow.

"touché," she clicked her tongue, rolling the folder and hiding it in her bra while walking out of the room with dazai in tow.

"wow, you can fit that in there?" he pondered out loud.

"of course i ca-" she began, before being cut off by a horde of men in black suits, guns pointed.

"IT'S THEM! don't even TRY letting them escape," a voice boomed, with a round of gunshots firing all around them soon after.

kita sighed, uninterested in the new turn of events. she could use her ability now, but it wasn't worth it. they had gotten what they came for, so whatever happened now was of no concern to her. dazai slowly turned around, eyes coming to an emotionless standstill as he allowed the bullets their chance to plunge into him, but always missing.

"geez, your aim sucks." kita stated, pulling her own knife out of a leg garter that hid underneath her dress and sending it piercing through the cheeks of a full line of men.

they dropped, guns casting across the floor. dazai blankly considered them before picking one up for himself.

"i hope you don't mind if i borrow this," he drawled, flipping it over in his hands before stretching out his arm in front of him and shooting the men left. he aimed to kill.

with that taken care of, kita bent down and plucked her knife out of the unfortunate victim's flesh. she wiped it off on the fabric of her black dress.

"p-please. don't kill me," the timid cry of a sole survivor pleaded for his life.

he was bowed to the ground, blood seeping through his suit and making it an impossibly darker shade of vantablack. what a shame he still lived.

with one look from dazai who lazily reached a hand for a crimson-red cupcake, he aimed and shot with the other.

the party was all but dead now.

in the midst of the bloodbath, dazai had taken a bite out of the dessert, and now white frosting dusted the tip of his nose like snowflakes. using her thumb, kita wiped the icing away and licked the sweetness off of her finger.

"hey!"

"you took too long to eat it!" she explained after stealing the cupcake away from him, eating the rest of it as as they stepped out from the bloodied marble walls and into the black of the darkened night.

｡✣✤✥━━━━━━━━━━━━✥✤✣｡

❝𝙰𝙿𝙾𝙲𝙾𝙻𝚈𝙿𝚂𝙴❞

1:05 ──♡────── 2:53

|◁ II ▷|

— ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ, ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘꜱ, ᴀᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘꜱᴇ

ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ, ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘꜱ, ᴀᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘꜱᴇ

｡✣✤✥━━━━━━━━━━━━✥✤✣｡

#bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs fanfiction #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x oc #dazai x oc #bsd fanfic #bsd fanfiction #mafia!dazai x reader #mafia!dazai fanfiction

30 notes · View notes

amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Luke//the very first moment i beheld you, my heart was irrevocably gone

Request: Can you do a Luke Hemmings x female reader one-shot? The reader is a British actress and was cast as Elizabeth Bennett in the movie Prejudice and Zombies instead of Lily James (I have nothing against her, it’s just that she needs to be removed from the one-shot in order for it to work) and her boyfriend Luke’s there when she and Sam Riley film Elizabeth and Darcy’s fight scene and they go out for lunch with Sam and his wife afterwards? The scene’s from the video on the YouTube channel Movieclips

hey! so i know that this scene wouldn’t have been filmed all in one shot, but i just thought it would be better if i wrote it like i did. i also know they probably didn’t do their own stunts (lie, lily james can do absolutely anything and everything) but well, i made it so you do! anyway. how’s everyone’s day? i hope they’re well! and i hope future me’s day is going well too! i also hope future you is good too!

Your whole life you’d been dreaming of this. Everything you’ve ever done has been leading up to this moment. Your first feature film, before this you’d had small roles in a few cable shows and side characters in a couple of films, as well as playing the main character in some indie film a friend was doing, but this was your big break.

The director and casting agents saw something in you, sent you the script and asked you to send them a tape. You’d done it at 10am, and found out you got the job at 2, so they were clearly very impressed.

And when you told Luke he was even more impressed. You’d never seen him smile so wide and the two of you jumped up and down in excitement before you phoned all your friends and family.

Two weeks later you were on a place back to England with Luke in tow so you could find a small flat to rent for the months you’d be rehearsing and filming. You were of course happy to be home, your house with Luke may be lovely and LA’s weather may be a lot better than Britains but it doesn’t stop the home sickness. However that’s what you were worried about with Luke, he hadn’t been in London for this long since he lived here with the band, so you were worried he’d end up bored and lonely.

But to your surprise he was loving it. He was glad to be back and with you being away filming for most of the day it gave him the chance to do some song writing and to catch up with other hobbies he may have neglected since the success of the band.

Today however, Luke had asked if he could tag along with you. He wanted to see you at work and watch you do what you loved. He said it was only fair because you’d been to all of his shows you could possibly go to, and for a while you were even on tour with him. So now it was his turn to return to the favour.

Plus, he said he needed to see you in action in order to hype you up to everyone he spoke to.

“Okay!” The director calls and the room goes silent.

You make eye contact with Luke and send him a thumbs up which makes him chuckle and shake his head.

“Everyone ready? Good. And action.”

“I’ve come to feel for you a most ardent admiration and regard, which has overcome my better judgement.” Sam starts, his head moves as if he’s trying to find the right words and you stare at him in, your lips pulled into a straight line and your eyebrows furrowed at his sudden declaration.

Even when the camera’s not on you you need to act, it helps keep you in character, helps keep you in the moment, and most importantly it helps whoever you're acting alongside. If they see your reactions to the words they are saying, they can use that to better their own performance and that gives everyone the most authentic scenes possible.

“So.” He takes a deep breath and gets down on one knee. You take a step back, a small gasp leaving your lips as you stare down at him. “Now I ask you most fervently to end my turmoil and consent to be my wife.” He asks and there’s a few seconds of silence while you look between him and the floor.

“If I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you...” You start, your voice quiet. Hurt flashes through your eyes as you take a deep breath and say your next line.

You have to admit, the way Sam is staring up at you, it does kind of feel like you’re turning down an actual marriage proposal, and if this is what it feels like when you’re just pretending, you hope you never have to do it in real life.

“But I cannot.” You sigh, nodding your head just to get your point across. “I never desired your good opinion and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly.”

Sam blinks and looks at the floor, not really sure what to say next. He stands, confusion thinly veiling the disappointment that’s written all over his face and you shift awkwardly. The fabric of your dress crinkling is the only thing that can be heard in the room as you smooth the skirt out, waiting for Sam to say his line.

“Might I be informed why?” He huffs. “With so little, endeavour at civility, I have been rejected?”

“You intentionally ruined the happiness of my my most beloved sister.” You reply, and tilt your head up to try and regain some sort of authority. “Do you deny it?” You ask and he lets out a short breath.

“I have no wish to deny it.” He replies, bitterness lacing his tone and you raise an eyebrow at him. “I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister.”

Your jaw tightens and you look him up and down, both of you have a silent conversation, just to make sure the other one’s ready, and then you kick him. He throws himself backwards, landing on the desk with a loud crash, a fake vase breaks under the weight and you shout. “How could you?”

“Because I perceived his attachment to her to be far deeper that to hers to him.” He replies, narrowly avoiding the books you’re throwing at him. Of course you’re told to try and miss him on purpose, but it still is really fun to be able to throw things at someone and get paid for it. “I believed her to be indifferent.”

“Indifferent?!” You gasp incredulity. “She’s shy!” You seethe and finish throwing the books. One of the smashes a window and Sam looks behind him concerned before looking back at you.

You walk around the room, deep in thought and Sam watches you as you grab a fire poker from the fireplace.

When rehearsing this part, you seemed to have a problem with waving it around too much.

You think you get a bit too into it and each time you swung it around you always seemed to break something, so you’re hoping and praying that this time you won’t cause any property damage.

The props department has already had to replace three vases and a clock because of you, so let’s hope you don’t break anything or anyone else.

Sam gulps as you slowly make your way towards him and he takes a few steps backwards, looking incredibly nervous as his gaze moves from you and the stick.

“Did you suggest to Mr Bingley that his fortune had some bearing on the matter?” You ask and he backs up towards the glass. Nothing you’re saying is threatening, but the way you’re brandishing your new weapon, you do look like you’re going to stab him.

Luke watches on amazed, he’s never seen you like this before. This is you in your element, doing what you love to do and transporting yourself and the people around you back to a time where people wore corsets and zombies ran around.

Luke knows people that when they step in front of a camera or onto a stage, they are just totally themselves. Whatever they’re doing, whether it’s singing, acting or dancing, it’s like a second nature to them. They know what they need to do, when they need to do and they don’t even have to think about it.

But he’s never seen anything like this before. A part of him wonders if it’s just because he loves you, but then he realizes that everyone else watching you and Sam work together are also totally floored by how brilliantly the scene its going. How the two of you work together, the small glances and little touches, every little thing you do just adds to the scene and he’s never been prouder.

“I wouldn’t do your sister the dishonour...though it was suggested.” He adds and you swing the poker over your head. He ducks, missing each attempted hit and you fall onto the table. He takes the opportunity to jump over it and when you turn around to try and regain your balance, he grabs your wrists and pins you to the table.

“By Miss Bingley.” You ask furiously and his grip tightens.

“By your mother, at the ball.” He replies and you shut up. He glances down and you stare at him annoyed, pushing him off you and swinging your weapon around. He misses each hit, just like you’ve practiced and you can’t wait to watch it back.

“Your character was revealed to me many months ago by Wickham.” You say after each missed hit, and he wrestles you to the floor, making you drop your weapon. “As I heard of his scandalous misfortunes at your hand.” You spit and wrap your ankles around his neck, squeezing just a tiny bit.

“Oh, yeah. Mr Wickham’s misfortunes have been very great indeed.” He struggles to speak and grabs on your legs, his hands shake so it looks like he’s struggling and when he’s finished you pull him forward just a little and pretend to punch him in the face, making him stumble backwards again.

A chair smashes when he lands on it and you quickly stand up, grabbing the letter opener as you do. He rolls over and stands and the two of you stare at each other before you move forward. He blocks each attempt at a hit and the two of you move backwards and forwards.

Fight scenes remind you of well rehearsed dance numbers. You move one way, they move the other. Each hit has to be choreographed to make it look real but remain safe and both of you have to know exactly what you’re doing otherwise it can end in disaster.

“You withhold the advantages that you know were designed for him.” You slice the letter opener down his shirt, popping the buttons and he stares down at it, watching the small pieces fall to the ground. He looks back at you, letting down his guard and you swing your arms up to hit him in the face. He grabs them and pushes you into the door.

“This is your opinion of me?” He asks, grabbing the poker of the floor and swinging it around a few times. “Then I thank you for explaining it so fully.” He slowly edges towards you and you do the same, giving each other untrustworthy looks.

You lunge towards him, raising the blade and he narrowly avoids it, using one hand to grab yours while the other slices the top of your dress. The buttons pop and a part of it comes down, exposing the top of the corset below.

You both look down before you slowly raise your head to glare at him. He looks at you afterwards, and he glances at you, raising his eyebrow before you take a deep breath and spin kick him.

He falls to the floor and you raise the blade above your head, an annoyed groan escapes your lips as you run towards him. He grabs your arms spinning the two of you around and you back hits the floor with a loud thud.

You feel the air being knocked out of you for a split second Sam looks worried that he’s hurt you, but you send him and look and he seems to get the message. Get the job done and then ask if you’re alright.

His hands pin your arms to the hard floor and he rests between your legs, the two of you panting and hot while staring at each other.

“You could not have made the offer of your hand, in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.” You say through gritted teeth. “I had not known you a month, before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.” You finish and he lets go.

You sit up, pointing the blade at his chest and he stares down at you, hurt flashing through his eyes. However the facade quickly comes back and he pulls his gaze away from you, his expression hardens as he stares straight ahead.

“You’ve said quite enough, madam.” He forces himself to look at you. “I fully comprehend your feelings and now have only to be ashamed of what my own have been.” He stands and quickly walks away from you.

He turns back around to watch you stand, his hands resting on his hips as he figures out the best way to end this.

“Please forgive me and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.” He bows and quickly leaves the room.

You pull yourself up onto the chair, waiting for the sound of the door closing as your cue to start crying. The camera slowly zooms in on you, tears run down your cheeks and you let out a shaky breath.

“Cut!” The director calls and you look at him.

“Did we get it?” You ask and Sam pokes his head back through the door, glancing between you and the crew.

“Yeah, we got it. Good job guys!” He replies and everyone cheers.

“You were brilliant!” You grin at Sam.

“You did pretty well too.” He jogs over to you, his boots squeaking as he runs and you let out a small giggle. He reaches his hand out to you, helping you stand and leading you off set and towards Luke and Alexandra.

“You’re such a gentleman.” You tease. “You’re very lucky Alex.” You smile and she laughs, rolling her eyes at her husband.

“Yeah. Sure I am.” She replies and the three of you laugh, while Sam just glares at you. You pull a face at him and he huffs loudly at you.

“Take lunch guys. Everyone needs to back by 2.” A producer tells you and you let out a pained breath.

“Oh shit. Are you okay. You hit that floor pretty hard.” Sam asks and Luke’s eyes widen in concern. He’s stood in front of you instantly, gripping your arms and he looks you over.

“Babe, are you okay?” He asks and you smile at his concern.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t so bad, I think it’s just the corset making it feel worse. I’ll be fine when I take it off.” You reassure them and Sam nods slowly, not quite believing you.

“Come on. I’ll take you back to your trailer.” Luke says and looks around to try and figure out where he’s supposed to be going.

“You go out of the door, walk all the way down the corridor, take a left and then a right and then another right. Go through them doors and her trailer is the first one you’ll see.” Sam explains and Luke’s blinks at him.

“I’m fine.” You laugh. “Come on. I can get there on my own. I’ve cracked a rib not my brain.”

“You’ve crac-”

“Joking.” You place a hand on his arm and he lets out a nervous breath.

“Not funny.” He pouts and you pull the same expression.

“Aww.” You pinch your cheek. “Come on.” You grab his hand and start pulling him away. “Oh, do you guys want to head out for lunch together?” You call over your shoulder. Sam and Alexandra look at each other before nodding, an eager smile twitching at their lips.

“Yeah. Sounds great.” Sam replies.

“Great. Swing by my trailer in like twenty minutes and we can get going.”

“Okay!” He replies and you wave one last time before disappearing through the door.

“So, what did you think?” You look up at Luke and he gives you a toothy grin.

“That was amazing!” He exclaims. “You were so fucking good. How are you so badass. How did I get the most talented, pretty, smart and badass girlfriend in the world. You like destroyed him and you still gorgeous while doing it. How? I jump around on stage for a bit and by the time I get off I look like a sweaty giant. But you. You literally fake fight people and act and cry all in a massive dress and you still look like...like that.” He motions wildly and you look at the floor, heat creeping up your neck and spreading across your cheeks.

“Did you really like it?” You ask one more time.

“Yes!” He laughs. “If I wasn’t a singer, I definitely would be an actor.”

“You could be both. Harry Styles acts.” You reply, pushing through yet another door. He stops in the doorway, and hums as he thinks about what you’ve just said.

“Yeah.” He nods. “That’s very true. Hey!” He smiles brightly. “You never know. One day we could be in a movie together!”

---

“Have I ever told you that you look really hot wielding a weapon.” Luke asks as he watches you shuffle out of the bathroom. Your dress is bunched around your waist while you slowly try and pry yourself out of the fabric.

Luke stands behind you, undoing the buttons at the bottom of it and after he’s done the last one it falls to the ground. You stand in a corset and stockings, with your hair up in curls and look over your shoulder at him.

“No, you haven’t.” You blush. “But you can tell me if you want.” You wink and his own cheeks heat up once he realizes he’s been caught staring.

“Well, you look very hot when wielding a weapon.”

“Thank you.” You smile and step out of your dress. “Can you pick that up and just hang it on that please?” You point towards the hanger on the chair. He nods and you watch him carefully pick your dress up.

“It’s not going to break you know.” You tease as you undo the top of your corset.

“With my luck it will.” He mutters and you snort a laugh.

“True.” You agree.

“Would you like some help?” He asks after watching you struggle for a while.

“Please.” You slump as best you can and a pout takes over your appearance.

“I hope when I ask you to marry me you don’t have the same reaction.” He mumbles while fiddling the strings and buttons.

“It depends how you ask me, and how much you’ve annoyed me that day.” You shrug and he pauses to give you a disapproving look. “Joking.”

“Not funny.”

“You always say that.” You frown. “But I think I’m hilarious.”

“Yeah. You think you’re great.” He grumbles and pulls on a bit of fabric. “And done!” He cheers and let’s go. You turn around and look at him surprised.

“How did you do that so quickly?”

“I’m just that good.” He winks and you roll your eyes.

“Sure you are.” You walk towards the bathroom and pat his shoulder. “Give me five minutes to get changed and then we can get lunch.”

“Take all the time you want.” He replies. “I’m going to snoop while you’re gone.”

“If you find my secret phone and pictures of my other boyfriend can you just put them back where you found them?” You tease and he looks at you amused.

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” You grin and push the door closed.

---

“So how are you finding London?” Sam asks after swallowing the last of his lunch.

“I love being back home!” You grin. “I’ve missed England’s shit weather so much. There’s nothing like a miserable day to really cheer you up.”

“Are they pulling that corset a little too tight?” Alexandra teases making you giggle while sipping your water.

“I think it’s just an English thing.” Luke replies, shaking his head playfully while staring at you.

“I think it’s just a Y/n thing.” Sam replies and you send him a glare.

“Hey, LA weather isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. The rain can be good you know.” You argue.

“Sure it can be.” He replies. “What about you Luke?”

“It’s great! This is the longest I’ve stayed here in years and I love it. I’ve been seeing friends I have’t spoken to in years.” He talks enthusiastically and you watch him fondly as he waves his arms around. Sam and Alex share a look before looking back at him.

“You guys are made for each other.” Alexandra smiles. “How did you two meet?”

“Oh.” You giggle, a little embarrassed as you think of the story.

“Ooo, you’re embarrassed. Tell us.” Sam prods your arm and you swat him away.

“Fine.” You huff. “I was a fan of his music, so I sent him a DM and asked if he liked a certain show that I was in. He er, he told me he did and I told him I was in it, so he asked who I played. I told him and we just kind of started talking from there.”

“Awww.” Alexandra gushes and you rolls your eyes. “And how is it dating an actor?” She asks Luke. “For me it’s a nightmare.” She looks at Sam and he stares at her offended.

“What did I do?”

“The black eye.” She raises and eyebrow and he shuts up.

“The black eye?” You ask.

“He came home with a black eye a while ago. I thought he’s been beaten up or robbed or something. It didn’t help that he limped through the front door, there was blood on his lip and everything. He wouldn’t tell me what happened and then after a few minutes of me panicking, he told me it was just make up from a film he was doing.” She explains and your jaw drops.

“Sam!” You gasp.

“I thought it would be funny!” He defends.

“How is that funny?!” You and Alex say at the same time.

“That is pretty funny.” Luke laughs and the three of you look at him.

“Thank you!”

“Fine. I’ll do that and then we’ll see how you like it.” You reply and he shrugs.

“Well, you’ve told me you’re going to do it now so I’ll know what you’re doing.”

“And what if I have actually been mugged? Are you going to take that chance?” You raise an eyebrow.

“She’s got you there.” Sam says. “And I wouldn’t argue with her, she’s got a hell of a kick when she wants to.”

“I didn’t even touch you.” You roll your eyes.

“That’s not the point.” He argues.

“I can actually kick you next time if you want?”

“No thanks.” He shakes his head quickly. Him and Alexandra start their own conversation about what to have for dinner and so you turn your body to face Luke. He’s already staring at you when you look at him and you feel yourself become breathless.

“What?” You wonder.

“Nothing. I’m just proud of you.” He shrugs. “So when you win your first of many oscars, will I be the first person you thank?”

“Hmmm.” You pretend to think for a while. “As long as I’m first on your grammy speech?”

“Deal.”

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings x y/n #5sos #5sos imagine #pride and predjudice and zombies

32 notes · View notes

flappypineapples · 4 years

Text

Escapism

"I need to get out". Cordelia burst through the doors of Anna's flat in a fury of red and emerald. Her hair had come undone and was now heavy with rain, sticking to the edges of her face. Infact all of Cordelia was soaked through to the bone. She had come through the building like thunder. Likely Anna's neighbors thought nothing of it; just another girl caught up in the storm of Anna's courtship. She rushed across the room and began to pace by the window, dragging in the cold air and rain after her.

"I know it may be too much to ask and I'm not even sure it's a day they're - er - you know holding it but I truly wish to just get out a little bit and oh-."

Cordelia had stopped pacing and came nose to nose with Matthew Fairchild. He was looking quite startled. Cordelia started.

"I'm sorry I didn't know you were...where is Anna?" She turnned away from Matthew, confused, and scanned the room.

"She's out on an errand", Matthew said still a bit blown back, "she should be home any time now. Cordelia what's happened?" Matthew stepped up to stand beside her, putting his hand on the crook of her arm. She shuddered and shrugged him off, clearly starting to shut herself away from him.

"Nothing's happened I just - I just wished to speak with Anna. She called on me for tea and and- oh god I can't lie to you Matthew it's James." A jolt of fear went through Matthew like an icicle, freezing him in place.

"He's not-"

"He's not hurt", she interupts "it's about him and I- no. It's about him and Grace actually". Cordelia takes a distracted seat on the loveseat closest to her.

"I found him and her in a...compromising position. I was coming home from training with Lucie and I just -". Once again the room is interupted by another presence at the door. Anna Lightwood walked in rather confidently, shaking rain from her hat.

"Matthew I do say it's pouring buckets out there, I feel as if God is crying for London. 'London, my greatest sin'. Matthew do you think- Cordelia?" Anna stopped mid thought as her head raised from removing her boots. Her long black eyelashes were still lightly dusted in rain drops as she blinked lazily from across the room.

"Cordelia my dear I beg your pardon I hadn't realized you were coming by. Though may I say it's not a wholey unwelcome surprise it is a surprise none the less. Would you like some rum cake? The most wonderful debutante dropped it off for me." Anna spoke as if a dripping wet and distressed girl in her flat living room was as common to her as putting on socks for the day, and perhaps Cordelia thought, it might be. She strode across the room loosening her necktie and disappearing into the kitchen.

"No actually, I came to ask a favor of you", Cordelia spoke surprisingly levely for having just worked herself up not moments before Anna walked in.

"Oh?" Anna poked her head out and raised a pointed brow at Cordelia.

"I'd like to visit the Hell Ruelle". It was stupidity simple statement to say out loud but Cordelia wanted to be clear in her intentions. She cursed herself for saying "visit" she thought it made her sound like a young girl wishing to see an extended relative in the country. But she stepped forward with her chin held high and repeated herself.

"I'd like to go to the Hell Ruelle and I'd like to go now". The directness of Cordelia's request seemed to peak Anna's interest. She emerged from the tiny kitchen with no rum cake and a kitchen rag. She handed the towel to Cordelia and smiled.

"That's quite a request, Matthew?" Matthew, almost completely forgotten, looked up inquisitively at Anna from behind Cordelia, "do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?"

"I was going to go home, get fantastically drunk and see if I could use my new pomade to make Oscar look like a Gibson girl but this sounds like it may be even more entertaining". Matthew replied with devilish intrest. Cordelia began to rummage through her hair for her remaining pins. She plucked them out hastily and started drying her hair with the kitchen towel.

Anna's eyes grazed over Cordelia's soaked attire, "Forgive me for asking but there isn't some noble alternative reason for this request? You're not seeking some information or making an arrest?"

Cordelia struggled for a second to come up with a convincing reason as to why she would desire to go to an art salon in the middle of the week out of no where.

"No, I simply wish to get out of the house. The last two trips I've made with you to the Hell Ruelle I have not fully been able to appreciate the experience." Cordelia shuddered thinking of her last trip and the whispering room... James's hands on the nape of Cordelia's neck and the way he kissed her. James's arms around her petit figure, his hands coming up to run through her silver hair-

"I just need to get out". It's what she had said when she first walked in to Matthew. Anna turned around again, waltzing through the kitchen to her bedroom and rummaged around. Cordelia wasn't sure what she fully meant by the statement herself. Did she simply want the escapsim of sensation or to get out of her emgamemt to James or get out of her own skin completly.

Anna emerged moments later with a velvet wine colored evening gown with black satin panels adorning the breast and waist.

"I never let a lady stay in wet clothes long." With a wink Anna wisked her away to her bedroom in a flurry of black and red, closing the door from the outside.

Cordelia layed the dress out on Anna's bed examining it. It was soft with a simple but flattering figure. She ran her hand over the silk and velvet feeling down and then up against the grain. She dressed with haste. Unclear on where to put to wet clothes she folded them up and placed them at the feet of Anna's bed on a large brown trunk. The dress was a little large around the waist and Cordelia took it as a blessing to loosen her corset a bit. Considering the atomosphere of the place she was aiming to attend and her distict lack of pins she decided against pinning her hair all the way up and settled for pinning the front of her hair in a crown around her head. Lastly she reached down and securely sheethed Cortana under her dress in it's back harness.

Cordelia opened the door of the bedroom to find Matthew seated on Anna's counter eating a slice of the afformentioned rum cake.

"Whoaht?" Matthew responded with a mouthful of cake. Cordelia couldn't help but chuckle and Matthew had to force is eyes away from the sight.

"Beautiful, Cordelia", Anna responded clapping her hands together and giving her a long glance over. "Now if you'll excuse me I think I'll change out of my own wet clothes. Matthew do keep Cordelia entertained while I find the right silk to go with tonight's hat." And with that she shut the door leaving her and Matthew once again alone in her tiny flat kitchen.

"Do you often waltz into into people's flats sopping with rain and demanding light debauchery? Because I think that's the kind of attitude I could get used to around here." Matthew had abandoned his now empty plate to the counter top beside him and was uncapping his metal flask.

"No this is a new trait of mine, and I'd like to point out that much like books no exciting things happen in the sunshine." Cordelia walked over to the small window over the dining table and thumbed a well groomed bonsai tree sitting in the window sill, another romantic gift from a lady she guessed. "Mr. Darcy didn't confess love in the sunshine, Jo March ran after Professor Bhaer in the pouring rain."

Matthew raised his eyes lazily over the rim of his flask and lowered it. "If I'm not mistaken it was raining when Dorian dumped Basil's body in the river as well."

"Well", Cordelia quipped back, "one would be hard pressed to find someone who would describe 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' as dull."

A catlike smile crawled across Matthew's lips and up his face crinkling his eyes, "I suppose you're right about that".

The door to Anna's room opened suddenly and with a flurry of silver and blue pinstripes. "Alright, let's go". She started forward with Matthew hopping down from the counter to follow suit.

Cordelia caught up quickly as they neared the front door. "So you decided to take me?"

Anna turned her head slightly to peer over her right shoulder, hand still on the doorknob. "Cordelia I decided the moment I walked in and saw that look in your eyes. Whatever you're battling you need not battle it alone and certainly not in its own domain. Now come on, the night grows darker and I long for a drink more with every passing incessant word out of Matthew's mouth".

"Hey! I've hardly even said anything!" Matthew interjected good naturedly.

"Yes Matthew but your thoughts are so loud and obnoxious I feel as if I'm thinking them for the both of us, now do seize those speedy thoughts and help me show Cordelia a good time. She looks as if she needs an escape and who am I to deny someone in such a radient dress a night out". Anna smiled smugly and opened the door.

And with that they were out into the damp cold night.

Notes: I haven't written anything outside of school in like 6 years and I haven't written a fanfiction since I was like 12 or 13 so forgive me for being a bit naive to the writing side of this website. I hope you enjoy :-). More to come soon.

#cassandra clare #chain of gold spoilers #anna lightwood #alastair carstairs #cassie clare #james and cordelia #cordelia carstairs #matthew and cordelia #jordelia #matthew fairchild #james herondale #grace blackthorn #chain of gold fanfic #chog #chog spoilers #chain of gold

91 notes · View notes

princessozera · 3 years

Text

Not OM, I just wanted to post here the first ever fic I actually wrote and published

I WOULD LIKE TO SAY AS A DISCLAIMER EVEN THOUGH I PUBLISHED IT LAST YEAR (2 years ago?) I WAS ACTUALLY YOUNGER WHEN I WROTE THIS. I DO NOT SIMP FOR DAMIAN LIKE THAT ANYMORE, HE IS MY SON.

The Only Exception

(Aged up/Older Damian Wayne x OC)

The seats are filled, the air is comforting, music and perfume floating in the air. Today Rosella Anderson is to be wed to Damian Wayne. But, weddings never quite go according to plan. Talia and Ra's Al Ghul have made it clear they don't like her, on multiple occasions. But with no less than 50 trained fighters and investigators on both sides of the aisle, nothing can interrupt or ruin her special day...... Right?

Chapter 1: Getting Married Today

"Come on, suck it in!"

"I HAVEN'T EVEN EATEN TODAY!" I whined as Alice yanked the ribbons on my corset tighter.

"WATCH IT!" Crystal swats away Alice's hands and undoes the ribbons a bit. "Suffocate her and she doesn't make it down the aisle, pack her like a sausage and my hours of makeup will have gone to waste!" She huffed and finish tying the ribbons, satisfied that they weren't too tight.

"I don't think I ever really appreciated the amount of work it takes to make curly hair not be frizzy," Barbra Gordon says between sips of champagne, lounging on the hotel bed.

"That's why I don't do my hair that often," I laugh, sitting on an ottoman so Alice can put my veil on and Crystal can help me put on my garter. My maid of honor, Cassandra Cain, came over and tried to feed me some fruit slices. I tried to argue, but I couldn't hold my own as she stared me down. I let her feed me some cantaloupe slices until she was satisfied and went off to finish getting ready.

"You really are a queen today!" Stephanie laughed as she walked around the room again, holding a video recorder. I tried to hide my face, but she grabbed my hand and swung it around. "A beautiful princess for Gotham's own prince! Tell us, your majesty, how are you feeling, about to be married off to Gotham's richest stone statue?" The girls laughed but I just shook my head at her. "Me, Tim, and Dick are making a documentary for you two. Any words for the lucky man? Anything you want to say to your future self, your family, your future kids? " Whistles and laughs went around the room and I couldn't help but blush.

"Well, let's take this one step at a time," I laughed to hide my own embarrassment. "Damian," I started, looking directly into the camera, "I don't believe in love at first sight, but damn did we square up on first sight. Not many people can say they had a full on MMA fight with their future spouse within minutes of meeting them. Yet, after that whole fiasco was solved, you've never been anything but gentle with me. People always said we wouldn't last; lava and ice. Water and a drought. Incompatible. But you were the first to look past who I had to be, to see who I was trying to be. You brought me a family, and I like to think I've brought you some serenity. I don't believe in destiny, and I'm not too sure about fate, but I believe in us. I believe that I'll fight for you until the end of time because you'd do the same for me. Because you are my home, and there's no place I'd rather be." I get choked up, wanting nothing more than to have him in my arms right now. I missed him like hell, even though it's only been 2 days since I've seen him.

"This isn't the time to start reciting your wedding vows silly," Cass said and I couldn't help but giggle. She wipes away the tears that I hadn't felt form, making sure to not mess with my mascara. Stephanie sighs happily and puts the camcorder down, reaching over to hug me.

"I'm so glad I get to be your sister," she whispered to me, and I hugged back tighter. We both jerked in surprise at the knock at the door. I immediately reached for my bag, looking for my well-worn notebook, but Cass's hand steadied me. Barbra got up, fixed her dress and went over to the door.

"Who is-" She stiffens up immediately, hand pulling back from the handle. "It's Talia." Stephanie immediately got in front of me, and I grabbed Cass's hand as she reached for her own bag, searching for her gun. I'd never told my friends about Talia, but they took the hint found their way to their respective bags, throwing knives and whips at the ready. Truthfully, I was finding it a little hard to breathe and I doubt it was the dress. The knock came again, more insistent, but no one moved.

"It's your call Rose," Barbra said, her eyes never leaving the door.

"Let her in," I tug on Cass's arm and she helps me stand up. "If she wanted me offed, she would have gotten someone else to do it. Or at least she wouldn't have knocked." Crystal and Alice look between all of us in alarm and decide to take the window as Stephanie goes to back up Babs by the door. The door opens, and there stands Talia, as beautiful and regal as ever. She glances over everyone before finally meeting my eyes.

"Lady Al Ghul, please come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I said, fidgeting with my dress. She steps in, nodding to Babs and Stephanie.

"I'd like to have a word with you before the ceremony," She says, running her hand along the wet counter cluttered with makeup. "Alone," She said with a pointed look when no one moved. That harsh edge was enough to get everyone to cover or flank me again. She didn't respond to this, simply staring at me. I put my hand on each girl's back, one by one.

"Go, I'll be fine. We'll be right here," Babs stares me down, but I nod back. She caves and starts to leave; Alice, Crystal and eventually Stephanie following behind, after she grabs something off the bed. Cass refused to move.

"Do I need to remind you that you can barely move your waist in that monstrous dress? She'd get to you before any of us were the wiser," She whispered in my ear, holding my arm pretty tightly. I wormed my way out of her grasp and grabbed the worn notebook from my bag.

"I promise, it'll be fine. Anyways, I forgot there were 2 more things I needed to do," I flipped through the pages quickly, finding what I needed and handing it to her. "If you could please take care of it? You should be done by the time we're done talking and we can head to the venue." Cass read through it quickly, then looked at me again. She gave a curt nod and walked out as well.

"We'll be right outside," Babs says pointedly before closing the door. Talia and I stood in silence for a moment, before she slowly stalked towards me until she was less than 6 feet away.

"Lady Al-"

"Your still not worthy of my son." oop. Right to the point, as always. Can't say it didn't hurt.

"You're a commoner, a nobody. No title, no land, not even superior health to your name. You failed classes in high school, went to college on scholarships, and couldn't land a proper role in your field until a year in. Failure, after pitfall, after failure." JESUS CHRIST THIS LADY DID HER RESEARCH. My face burned in humiliation, but nothing I could say now would justify everything she just listed out. "And yet... Damian loves you."

"I may not like you, but I know how I raised him, and Bruce has done a good job of bringing up a boy worth more than the names he was born into. Wayne. Al Ghul. Damian. I will have faith in his choice, he is not a stupid boy. Foolish and stubborn yes, but not stupid. If he thinks you are worthy, there may be hope for you yet." holy shit, no way, is this actually happening? I'm too stunned to say anything, just grateful that my mouth isn't hanging open.

"When you return from your honeymoon I expect you to face me in a formal duel and undergo training as necessary," she puts her hands on her hips, challenging me to argue with her, but I was so happy I had to restrain myself from hugging her.

"It would be an honor to battle you Lady Al Ghul," I say, finding my tongue, stifling my giddiness with a bow, and a hand over my chest.

"Talia is also acceptable." She says with a nod, taking another step forward and adjusting the skirt of my dress and finally my veil before turning starting to walk back to the door. "My father and I will also be in attendance to this event, but if you ever wish to gain even an ounce of his approval, you'll need to do another more traditional ceremony at a later date." My heart swelled, and for a second, I legitimately thought I was going to break down crying. This was better than anything I could have prepared for. I couldn't just let her walk out like that.

"Damian'll be elated!" I yelled out to keep my voice from cracking. Talia stops, and I gush on. "I know you haven't had the easiest of relationships, with conflicting ideology and all, but he really does love you, and Ra's, even if he doesn't say it. He looks up to you guys and wants to make you proud. You being here will mean the world to him." I force myself to stop talking before I say something weird or bad. Talia turns back to me, walks up swiftly, and hugs me. I'm stiff in surprise, but manage to hug her back before she gives me one last nod and walks out. Everyone runs back in the second Talia is out.

"Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?" Babs immediately grabs my arms and starts inspecting me up and down for any sign of injury.

"Don't cry don't cry!" Alice pleads with me, fanning my face to prevent the tears from falling.

"Talia hugged her, check her back and skirt for anything weird," I look over to Stephanie, who was staring down at her camcorder. Had she left that hidden on the bed? I didn't even notice. But it was so sweet. I could show Damian later all the sweet words his mother said about him.

"Jesus, you're so teary today," Cass mumbles as she does her own inspection of my dress. When she's done, she sees my tears are of joy, so she hugs me. "Your journal's impressive," she says handing back my heart covered notebook. I'm still choked up and trying not to bawl in relief so once everyone was satisfied that I wasn't going to drop dead in the middle of the aisle, they sat me down so I could calm down while they finished up. I collected myself, the extremity of these emotions leaving me exhausted. I drifted off with the warm glow of my friend's laughter and love filling the air.

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

"No way, you did not fall asleep!"

"Get up get up get up!"

"Cass, I'm fully warning you right now. If she falls asleep at the ceremony like this, I'm throwing my bouquet at her head"

"You might have to beat Stephanie to it," Cass giggles, as she gently shakes me awake. I take a second to reorient myself, blinking the drowsiness out of my eyes, and stretching.

"Ooh, we could coordinate it though!" Stephanie perks up, "if she falls asleep; Alice and Crystal, take your flowers and make it rain, and then Babs, Cass and I hit her in the head. Guaranteed it'll wake her up!" We all laugh and I get up, taking a minute to appreciate my beautiful friends. It was a debated choice, but the deep purple fit everyone perfectly. We did have to make a few adjustments to Stephanie's overall look though, to keep her from looking too similar to her alter ego, Spoiler. Bouquet in every pair of hands, key cards in garter wallets and phones on silent, we made our way down to the venue.

"We're only running 10 minutes behind, it couldn't be helped," Babs tries to calm my nerves as I all but start jumping in the elevator. Cass also had to put a hand on my waist to pull me back when I almost ran to my place. She escorted me around to the side doors; the girls and I were coming in from the right, Damian and his groomsmen were coming in from the left. He had wanted to avoid any issue of who should walk him down the aisle; I thought it was cute how he couldn't choose between Dick and Bruce. Cass and I were slow dancing to calm my nerves when the rest of the girls came back.

"Pianist and minister are ready" -Babs

"Decorations are gorgeous and on point, everyone is in their seat and there are no fussy children" -Alice

"Lights, audio and AC are perfect and photographers are also ready" - Crystal.

I nodded, yes, everything was going smoothly. Of course, I had used everything I had when planning this. I was floating on cloud nine, simply nodding along when Babs spoke up.

"Has anyone seen Stephanie?" she asks, grip tightening on her bouquet. No one knew so we all just waited around for 5 minutes, everyone starting to get fidgety. Stephanie came back, 10 minutes later, looking a little out of breath and a bit pale, even under her makeup.

"Ok so there's a situation,- the guys are running late but it's okay they're o their way, they'll be here in 20 minutes!" Stephanie sped through the second half of her sentence when she saw that I was going to panic. I breathed out in relief and nodded, satisfied.

"I'll make the announcement, Dick probably went overboard trying to do his hair again," Babs snickered and headed into the ceremony hall. We played a light game of ninja as we waited to hear from the guys, but I soon became hyper-aware of time passing. I don't have the best perception of time, I don't even have a good memory, but I caught the looks my bridesmaids were giving each other.

The questioning looks.

The worry.

I let myself get kicked out of the next round and walked a little ways off, pulling my phone out and calling the number I knew by heart, ignoring the time that read that I was now almost 40 minutes late to my own wedding. The phone rang 3 times, and I turned away from my girls who were really getting into this game, rooting for Cass or Alice to win.

"Damian!" I sighed in relief when the line clicked. "hey, how much longer do you think you guys will be in traffic? If it's going to be another while, I can have it arranged so snacks and drinks are handed out so no one gets restless. I could also give the pianist a break, he's been playing the same chorus on repeat for the last half hour-" I let my voice trail off as I was met by a stone wall of silence. Not even a joke from Dick or Tim or Duke. I waited him out, after a minute of silence, Damian spoke up.

"I'm sorry beloved, I can't do this."

"What?" I asked, but my voice was so thin and breathy I doubt he heard me.

"I can't go through with this. This marriage, this wedding. It's all a joke. Who even cares about this mess? It's all so... stupid. Pointless." not a hint of hesitation, voice more ruthless than I had ever heard it. No. No way. was he serious!? I struggled to find my words, I shook with the pure effort of breathing normally even though I felt like I was having an actual heart attack; tight chest, palpitations, the whole 9 yards. Tremors ran through my body and I finally managed to choke out "Damian-"

"Goodbye Rosella" the line clicked off and I take a shuddering breath.

"Rose?" Cass says, gently putting a hand on my shoulder.

"He's not coming."

"What?"

"He's not coming!" I shriek, clutching my waist to stop my stomach from churning but to no avail; at least I didn't have much of lunch to throw up.

"What do you mean he's not coming!" Babs demands, yelling from where she was

"shit"

We all turn and there stands Jason, looking uncomfortable as hell and very much like he didn't want to be here. That confirmed it for everyone. Alice, Crystal, and Babs started yelling questions at Jason. Stephanie pulled out her own phone and started dialing a bunch of numbers but it seemed like no one was answering. Cass tried to speak with me, but my ears were ringing, it all sounded like white noise. And I felt cold. but hot. but freezing. I raise my hand and draw everyone's attention, all becoming deadly silent.

"Alice, Crystal. please go tell the pianist, the minister, and the photographer. Give them my email so I can settle up the charges later. Stephanie and Cass, please go see if we can keep the party reservations for tonight. Everyone else should enjoy them, even if there is no.... Barbra, could you please break the news that I... we..." everything got really blurry for a second and the floor rushed up to meet me, but I caught myself on the table before I could pass out completely.

Not here, not in front of them. Don't put them through a breakdown.

Everyone was fussing, but I couldn't stand here for another second. "Go. I just want to be alone. Please. go. GO!" I yelled and they all dispersed, shooting me worried looks. Cass gave me a long hug before she decided I needed a moment alone.

"Don't move from here." She instructed me. "Go get the guys," she demanded to Jason before going off. Jason looked at me sadly, trying to find the right words to say.

"Rose-"

"Please leave." he walked away without another word. Once I was sure he was out of earshot, I ran with everything I had out of the hallway.

Pardon me is everybody there

because if everybody's there id like to thank you all for coming to the wedding

I appreciate you going even more

I mean you must have had better things to do.

Thank you all for the gifts and the flowers,

Thank you all, now it's back to the showers

but I guess I'm not getting married today

The perfume is suffocating, overly sweet, fake as plastic, thick as sugar. I can't breathe, but I don't need air to run. Don't stop, move. Move. Move. The ribbons are strangling me. The garter is cutting off my circulation. Gloves are hurting me. High heels, weak ankles. My rolls of fat spilling out of the dress. rolls and rolls and rolls and rolls and rolls. can't stand. can't wait, I throw open the door to the stairs and take them in 3s.

Listen, everybody,

look, I don't know what you're waiting for.

A wedding. What's a wedding?

It's a prehistoric ritual

Where everybody promises fidelity forever,

Which is maybe the most horrifying word I ever heard of,

Which is followed by a honeymoon, where suddenly he'll realize

He's saddled with a nut, and want to kill me, which he should.

Thanks a bunch, but I'm not getting married

I scream as my veil gets caught in the handrail, yanking my head back, falling down a couple of stairs. No question, I rip it off. It stings, it hurts, bobby pins forcefully ripped out. The shoes go too, heels are stupid, why are they so tall. Tall and tall and make my knees wobbly. The taller they are the harder they fall. Up the stairs, 3 at a time, legs on fire. Don't stop, don't stop, hike the dress up and keep running all the way to the 50th floor.

Go have lunch, 'cause I'm not getting married

You've been grand, but I'm not getting married

Don't just stand there, I'm not getting married

But I'm not getting married today.

I slam open the hotel room door, to hell with neighbors. Suffocating, burning, melting heat. I rip off the gloves, scream as I can't get the ribbons out of my dress. I scream, jump, squirm and throw myself around until it finally comes off.

He didn't come. shut up.

He didn't want to. SHUT THE HELL UP

I felt everything to an extreme degree. Too much. Why am I breathing so heavily? Why am I sweating bullets!? I throw my hair up in a ponytail, yank the garter off, tripping over my own two feet. My phone falls next to my head and the only thing I can think to do is to throw it into the toilet. I grab my honeymoon bag- no, my emergency bag that happened to have cute clothes instead of food, and switch into my leggings and a t-shirt. It's all I had. It's all I could ask for.

Go! Can't you go?

Why is nobody listening?

Goodbye! Go and cry

At another person's wake.

If you're quick, for a kick

You could pick up a christening

But please, on my knees,

There's a human life at stake!

I'm parkouring down the stairs, jumping entire sections, falling on knees, but ignoring the pain to jump again. Emergency phone in one hand, I order the uber, start the bank transaction, even though I have to read everything 10 times for it to make sense. What do? where go? don't know. not here. One bad jump and I collapsed entirely, but as I scrambled to throw everything back in my bag, I see the plane tickets. yes. away. out. not here. leave.

Go! Can't you go?

Look, you know I adore you all

But why watch me die

Like Eliza on the ice?

Look, perhaps I'll collapse

In the apse right before you all

So take back the cake

Burn the shoes, and boil the rice

Out of the stairway, but slammed into a wall. Around the corner, Alice and Babs and Crystal and Jason and Stephanie and Cass and Bruce and Selina and Duke and Tim and Dick and Alfred.

Remember when you first met them? He swore he'd protect you but that they'd love you. please stop! I begged myself, think of anything, anything but him. anything but this. Get out, then we can cry, but not here, not now. I watched them split up, so I hid behind a corner farther back. Steph and Cass took up the stairs. Everyone else was gone so I ran out the back door. Out of the hotel, away from the perfume, away from the flowers, the candles, the dresses. From them. And by some small miracle, the car was already here. I jump in, only taking a second to notice that it was, in fact, an uber.

"Hello, ma'am! How are-"

"Please! Just go!" my voice breaks and the tears start up again. I brush them aside furiously/ doing everything in my power not to start sobbing, but he listens to me and speeds off.

BECAUSE I'M NOT GETTING MARRIED TODAY

(A twist on this song that actually inspired this whole fic)

Chapter 2: On The Run

I'm going to kill him

Why didn't he show up?

How fucking dare he

Was it something I did?

I was nervous too bitch; I drank a shot of tequila and sucked it up!

Was it something HE did? Was Talia lying? Did Ra's kidnap Damian? Why did the boys wait to tell us? Did Stephanie know that something was up? Do any of them even-

"Ughhhh," I groaned audibly as my thoughts and emotions started to run together. It had been a while since anything left me this.... discombobulated. Exhausted. A mess. I'd almost forgotten how awfully I reacted to being overwhelmed and out of control. The uber driver shot me a curious look but didn't say anything. Keep it together Rosella. Just, go home and.. I flinched, chagrined at my own stupidity. "Get somewhere safe" I amended under my breath, "and then you can have as big of a breakdown as you want. Just, be a stone again. Close it all out. Suppress the fire, drown the noise." I rubbed my eyes, the dry burn giving me the weirdest throbbing headache.

The ride to the airport was stiff, to say the least. My driver kept trying to talk to me, but my responses were so dry he gave up. He didn't question the extra stop at the bank, even while he waited outside for half an hour while I verified with tellers inside that I was, in fact, the owner of the account and that I was draining it.

Erase your tracks. You were never here. Are you even alive?

Still, we got to the airport as quickly as I could have hoped for and made sure to give him a large tip for his troubles. I walked through the airport, undoubtedly looking like some pompous bitch with only a stone face and backpack, my actual suitcase left behind in my whirlwind out. I only had some snacks, a Nintendo ds, some stationary things, deodorant, and a toothbrush. I hadn't even remembered to grab my disposable water bottle, toothpaste, or hair brush before leaving. Whatever.

It was almost flawless. I bypassed the checked bag lines, slid right through TSA (bless you TSA Pre-check), although I did get some looks when they checked my bag. I guess overall I looked like I should be getting on a school bus instead. I sat down at a cafe and pulled out the tickets, 2 first class tickets to Malaga, Spain.

I'd set up our honeymoon as a complete surprise to Damian. Bruce and the boys had worked so hard to help me clear out a whole month from his schedule. I'd gone through hell and back to make sure all of my project managers could handle any situation that could happen either in making or transporting our different projects out... We were supposed to be jumping cities for a month in Europe. Cities with small populations, so we could avoid drawing attention, but full of gorgeous architecture and delicious food for me; significant art history and cultural relevance for Damian.

It's going to be a technical nightmare to cancel all of those reservations and getting the tickets switched and sold. Do people even actually do that? But I have to, I don't know where I'm going but I don't want any of them to tra- SHIT. My head snaps up and one quick look around tells me I'm already too late. I spot 5 cameras easily.

I grab my things and head over to a gift shop. I grab bunches of clothes and accessories off of the shelves, hurrying off to pay and doing my best to avoid cameras now as I sneak off into the restroom. I throw on some atrocious sundress, flats, and a baseball cap, flipping my hair twice in an attempt to make it look like a pixie cut. For a second I consider actually finding something sharp to hack my hair off.

I need you to not be a social breakdown cliche for a minute, it took you years to properly grow those curls out. Please don't waste my efforts. Yeah, it's for the better, I look like Dora the Explorer with short hair anyway. Tim wouldn't sell me out to Damian, right? LMAOO he bailed at the wedding you really think he wants to hunt you down?? Or what if Tim wants to find me? Or anyone else? Damian's pretty good at following people. Even then, Babs, Cass, Roy are competent hackers, any of them could find my data and track me down... Are any of them even on my side?... I couldn't help but let out a whimper. I pursed my lips, placing my hands on the cold sink to calm myself. What's my plan anyways? I can't go to any of the cities in Europe where I already have reservations. Too easy. I could go to the Netherlands...

"But Damian knows where I lived there, because of the time we visited my friends," I sigh out loud, facepalming. "But not entirely a bad idea..." I say as I start flipping through the different cities I've lived through. Netherlands, Italy, Spain, Germany, France, Croatia, Portugal, Malta, Romania, Hungary, Austria, are all out. We'd either been there or they were part of the honeymoon plan. I didn't want any reminder of him.

Actually, all of Europe is out. I've raved about it too much. We've been too many places, we both had too many ties scattered throughout Europe. I can't speak Russian, Talia and Ra's have connections all across the middle east, and the north half of Africa. Jason and Cass had some unexplainable ties across north and south america. With every city I named, I hated myself more for talking so much. For trusting him with these memories.

Honeysuckle kisses on cotton candy memories.

shut up.

Isn't there ANYWHERE I've lived and worked that my big mouth hadn't mentioned? As I was starting to get desperate and the headache started acting up again, I found actually ecstatic relief. That would be actually literally perfect. God bless my forgetful memory. The apartment I'd never sold. The country I actively avoided talking about because Damian would get jealous.

I snuck out of the bathrooms and headed over to customer service. I had to work my way past a large group of people. Overhearing snippets of conversation, apparently, their flight is somewhere between delayed or canceled. Inspiration hit me. Give the ticket to someone here. Send them to Spain, let them stay at the hotel. He could follow a cold lead. This would give me enough time to go to one country and get a ticket to where I actually wanted to go.

I look around the group. Too many were in pair or more. Some looked very buisness-y type. There! A girl who looked like a backpacker was chilling, glancing through her phone. You're going to sound absolutely mental. I approach her nevertheless. I pitched her my idea, but she was rightfully skeptical. I swallowed my pride and told her a cold version of the truth.

"My fiancee left me at the altar. I'm going to Mongolia. I don't want his ticket, I don't want the hotel. Either take it or I'll give it to someone else. Or let it go to waste. I don't care. I don't want it. I'll even pay the name change charge." The anger in my voice came out clear, and by another miracle, she accepted it. We walked over to the help desk and I spoke with the dude behind the counter. He seemed hesitant at first, but he gave me a double take when he checked my reservations. With a brighter smile, he got me on the first flight he could to Mongolia.

"Will that be for both tickets Mrs.Wayne?" He asked cheerfully before reeling back, caught off guard by my watering eyes.

"Anderson. And no," I managed to spit out. I signaled for the girl from earlier to come closer. "I'm transferring the other ticket to her, we need to get the name changed." He looked uncertain but went ahead. If he was accommodating before, I could tell he was bending over backwards now to get everything situated. I could see his concentration as he tried to bypass things without having to question me again.

"Umm, your profile says you've actually been to Belgium before, how was it?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Beautiful and quaint. Great place to relax and enjoy nature if that's your thing. I'd recommend Lithuania too, or Leinchestein." I say, trying to keep a light tone. He nodded happily, seeming to take my recommendations seriously before handing the girl the new plane tickets. We thanked him and headed off on our respective paths, the girl taking a minute to hug me.

" I hope you can heal soon, and wish you a bright future" she whispered to me. I hugged back, trying not to cry again. She bought me a bag of peach gummy rings and left me at my terminal. I dropped some calls out to friends, blessed that they all decided to take one or more of the reservations around Europe I'd had. I kept the details to a minimum but they figured out pretty quickly not to mention me to Damian if they happened to see him. Some small part of me, thankfully more aware than the rest had the foresight to call some utility companies and get everything at my apartment working again.

The help desk attendant worked miracles, my nonstop flight boarded less than an hour later and I had managed to keep a first class seat. I sat down and started doodling nonsense in my journal, blasting music in my headphones. But around 6 hours into this 19-hour flight, exhaustion overcame me and I drifted off to sleep.

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

"Beloved," Damian sighed as he wrapped his arms around my waist. "It's almost 11, we need to get out of bed," he murmured into my hair.

"Nooooooo" I whined, stretching further into the sunlight. The doors were ajar, a nice breeze keeping us cool. I snuggled into him. "We're on a vacation, orders from Bruce. And on vacation, you can stay in bed all day."

"But there might be monsters nearby-" He said mysteriously, catching my attention.

"I didn't get reports of any- AH!" I scream as Damian proceeds to tickle me. "No! Sto-" I try to gasp out between laughing. I manage to fight him, tumbling out of bed. He laughed at me as I tried to untangle myself from the blankets.

"That's a dirty trick Wayne!" I gasp, trying to catch my breath. I grab a pillow and chuck it at him, but he just catches it and throws it back. We have a small impromptu pillow war before he taps out after a good hit knocks him onto the balcony. "BOW TO MY PROWESS!" I jokingly declare, jumping up and down on the ottoman. Damian runs over and sweeps me down.

"Please. Don't. Fall. And. Break. Your. Head" He accentuates every word with a kiss, making me giggle. He lets me go and takes the bathroom to shower first. I head out into the kitchen, humming to myself. I grab some of the fruit we bought yesterday and start making a fruit bowl. I'm halfway through cutting the Jicama when Damian's arms are around my waist again.

"What are you doing?" He asks, resting his chin on my shoulder. Before I could answer, his grip around me tightened. "Be careful!" He whispered harshly, putting his hands over mine. "Your knife skills could use some work, you could have cut your finger off like that!" He scolded me but I scoffed.

"Haven't lost a finger yet"

"No, but you did set your oven on fire. THREE TIMES" He elbowed my side and I pouted.

"Excuse you, that 2nd time wasn't my fault, remember? Dick broke into my place and fell asleep making fish sticks," I retaliated, squirming out of his grip and started making some sandwiches for lunch.

"I really should improve the security at your apartment," Damian says as he finished cutting up the Jicama and strawberries, plating them and dropping them off at the table.

"As if that would stop every vigilante from the northern hemisphere from breaking in," I snorted, bringing over the sandwiches. We ate in peace, letting the soft instrumental music from the radio fill the silence.

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

I sigh happily, turning in my chair, reaching out for Damian's hand. The second I touched the cold seat next to me, my body freezes too. "Damian?" I muttered drowsily, sitting up straight. His bag isn't under his chair. Why am I wearing a dress? Why are my leggings rolled up? I start to panic, breathing rapidly and trying to blink away the tears in my eyes. It's enough to pull me awake and I remember what happened.

"Oh... oh" I hiccup and bite my lip, looking back out the window into the starry night. The tears start falling, but I'm being quiet so I let them. My skin itches. My neck, my wrists, under my eyes. I start scratching, trying to ignore my memories. The trip to Italy, our joint project to improve the villain resistance of the infrastructure of Gotham, the charity events we attended.

"Ma'am?" I look up, a stewardess in the aisle leaning over. I wipe my eyes, catching the furious red color my wrists had become, before turning to her. "Uh, you missed your meal earlier and I was wondering if there was anything I could get you?" She looked uncomfortable now, glancing between my red eyes, red nose, and now red wrists and presumably red neck. I glanced over the menu she handed me, ordering a full meal. She dropped the food off and scurried away, not meeting my eyes.

The meal was laid out beautifully; tomato soup, grilled cheese and grilled chicken with a slice of cheesecake. Yet, I couldn't seem to muster the strength to eat. It didn't really seem appetizing, and I wasn't hungry.

The last time you ate was over 10 HOURS ago, and that wasn't even a full meal. C'mon, one bite. I picked up the fork, but simply twirled it in my hand, watching the metal catch the light. You'll get a raging headache if you don't eat soon. Might get that deep vein thrombosis. I take a bite of the chicken, tasting nothing despite its obvious layer of seasoning. I swallowed it with half a glass of water. It felt thick, heavy, almost like swallowing a rock. But I had to eat. When I didn't immediately throw up, I set up my phone to play a cache of 65 action movies to distract myself and started eating bit by bit. I could tell I was drinking a ridiculous amount of water, but the stewardess replaced my glass without it ever going entirely empty so I didn't really notice how much I had downed. She cleared my tray when I was done, and I just kept watching movies. Whenever I thought I was going to fall asleep, I'd crank the volume up, scroll forward to fight scenes and take a drink of sprite. I was about 4 movies in when I threw off my headphones, whimpering with how severe my headache had gotten despite eating and drinking water.

"Good morning passengers, it is 10 pm and we're about to start our final descent so if you could all please put up your trays and turn off the wifi in your electronics, we'll be landing shortly." Not gonna lie, the time zone jump threw me for a minute, I had taken a second to figure out how we made the flight in 8 hours instead of 19. I shoved everything into my bag, forcing the zipper closed. I wanted to put on some rock or pop punk songs, “Battle On!” seeming weirdly appealing, even though I hadn't heard it in a while. I felt a vein in my neck twitch, so I settled on music from the swan lake instead.

The second we touched down I was up. I only had my backpack so I was able to squeeze by people, ignoring protests and complaints to get off the plane. Off the plane, past the luggage claim, I was going down the escalator when I spotted them. Advika was talking to Zay, looking mad as hell, but she noticed me first. She ran over and almost tackled me to hug me, Zay taking my bag. "Princessa, baby girl, I'm so sorry." She cries into my hair, "I didn't think he was an asshole, oh god, how could he do that to you!"

"We have the plane ready to go," Zay says, joining in on the hug. I let Advika cling to me as we make our way to the opposite side of the airport. Once we're in a more private area, Advika speaks up again.

"I'm going to kill him. How fucking dare he!" She squeezed my hand, and now started pulling me towards the airplane.

"Isn't that Rosella's line?" Zay prods before looking back at me. "But in all seriousness, we will absolutely end him, just say the word. Don't even say it, blink morse code, ASL, anything." I keep my mouth shut and let Advika continue to rave about the different ways she'll end Damian; financially, socially, whatever I wanted. We went out onto the runway and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"The company jet? Isn't that a bit much?" I say as Zay escorts us in, before heading to the back.

"The boss said it's okay. Nearly bit my head off when I called to ask but said it was ok. You did help establish our company in the foreign market," Advika takes a seat but gestures for me to lay down on the couch. "No offense mi princessa, but you look like a fucking mess. Please take a nap."

"I don't know if I can do that," I say, letting out a long sigh. Zay comes back, handing Advika a small purse and laying a platter of cheese and crackers on the table across from us. He sets up instrumental music, from “Carmen” if I'm not mistaken, as Advika takes my hat off and starts combing my hair. I lay back into her, letting her brush out my hair, counting her impeccable pattern. 2 squirts from a spray bottle to moisten my hair, 10 brush strokes. 2 then 10 then 2 then 10. My eyes started feeling heavy so I forced myself to take a deep breath and sit up. The motion made her accidentally yank my hair and woke me a bit. As she apologized I alternated my breathing patterns to try to stay awake, noticing for the first time that we were already in the air.

"Please, just go to sleep," Advika begged, grabbing my hands and forcing me to look at her. I stared at her for a moment before answering.

"I did... on the plane. I dreamed of him. The disorientation of waking up made me think I was on my way to my honeymoon," I let out a bitter laugh and she flinches, looking over to Zay, unsure what to say.

"You look pale," Zay interjects. He comes over to me, placing a hand on my head and then my neck. He doesn't comment on the marks, but he and Advika share a look. "Change your clothes, drink some water, then these, we don't want you getting sick." He puts 2 pills in my hands before going off to find me some water.

"Yeah, getting sick is the absolute worst thing that can happen to me right now. How silly of me," I roll my eyes and Advika snorts, trying to mask her laughter. I leave the Nyquil pills on the couch and get changed. I come back and take the pills, leaning into Advika again so she can continue to play with my hair. She spoke about anything and everything, filling the silence with her happy chatter. Undoubtedly, she was trying to distract my conscious so if I did dream again, it wouldn't be about him. It worked, her happy banter following me into my dreamless slumber.

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

I awoke to Zay gently shaking me, thankfully a lot less disoriented than last time. I gather up my things, helping myself to the bottles of water they had around. I ignore the bandages wrapped around my wrist, but the one on my throat was quickly starting to freak me out. Advika seemed to sense my discomfort, immediately coming over and cutting the bandages off.

"Sorry, your skin seemed a bit raw so we wrapped it up," she explains calmly, alternating to rubbing her hand up and down my arm to soothe me.

"S'ok," I mumble, taking my bag from Zay.

"We called you a cab -it got here a couple of minutes ago-, but you're more than welcome to stay with either of us back in Mongolia. Neha and Juniper also moved here ya know, I'm sure she'd-" I cut Zay off with a shake of my head, and follow him out of the plane.

"I just really want to be alone for a while, ya know?" As alone as I can be with my differing opinions yelling at me and my endless train of thought that does NOT SHUT UP. Zay nodded but Advika grabbed my arm before I could hail the cab closer to the plane.

"I know you want to be alone- and you absolutely do need some time alone, this is going to be a lot to process- but...." She hesitated, biting her lip. "I know how you can get Ro. don't even try to argue with me on this. Please, take some time, but do not hesitate to call me or anyone else." Would this be a bad time to throw up? That's one way to diverge the conversation. Advika held me but I wouldn't meet her eyes. "You know what? If you don't check in with me in a week I will track you down and drag you to live with me. I'm not joking. Do you understand" I want to protest, but then I remember she didn't even have my phone number. Game on. I agree and they both give me a hug before I board the cab.

"Good morning"

"Good morning, where should I take you?" ah. another thing that I hadn't thought of. Without even bothering to check my bag, I knew I didn't have my keys. But I knew someone who might. I give the cab driver an address and I pull out my phone. But I can't even ask because I don't remember her number. I sigh, hoping things hadn't changed as much as I thought.

We're in downtown Seoul before I can start properly stressing myself with the "what ifs". Had she moved? What if she didn't have the key? Would she yell at me for arriving at... Almost 3 am? I decided to do the math to distract myself, reworking the math on how a 4-hour flight turned into a 5-hour flight for a solid 10 minutes before I realized that I had not taken another time zone into play. Small miracles were on my side today. Yesterday? Tomorrow? Whatever the fuck day it is. Since it was so early, there wasn't much in the way of traffic, and the doorman was the same one that had been here when I lived her for however long it was. I explained to him that I was here to see Hong and after some reluctance, he let me in.

Up the elevator to the fifth door, doors opening to crisp air, reminiscent of fall. Exactly 30 steps forward to a door with 4 pastel sierra sunset decorations on the door. I knock, timidly at first as to not wake the neighbors. In 5 minutes, again, a little louder. I did this for an hour before I gave up and simply stood there with my head on the door.

"Hong. Hooooonnnngggggg" I whined quietly. Wow, thank goodness it's so early, everyone would think you're a creeper. lmaooo just imagine getting arrested your first day back. I whined into the door, contemplating just sleeping out here.

"Rosella?" a soft voice came from behind me. I turn to see Hong with Geo's arm around her. There were 2 more people behind her but I barely had the awareness to nod as a greeting. "What are you doing here? Wasn't yesterday your-" She stops, noticing that my lip had begun to tremble.

"Rosella-" she comes over and wraps her arms around me, hiding my face from view of the others. Someone unlocks the door and she drags me inside. The sequins on her dress start to itch, but I continue to hug her. Once I'm ready to let go, she sits me down and goes to change her outfit while Geo sits with me. in awkward silence for a while.

"Rose, what happened?" He eventually asks, sliding over a glass of ice water. "I thought your wedding was yesterday. Wasn't your honeymoon suppose to be in Europe?" I couldn't seem to muster the strength to answer, simply staring at him and sighing.

"You have no tact," Hong comments, combing back in her usual floral pjs. She flops down next to me, placing her hand on mine. "You don't have to tell us now, but I would like for you to tell us eventually." I can't help but smile, she always has a soothing air to her. It's impossible to be mad or upset near her. " I have some clothes you can borrow; I have friends over today so you'll have to take the couch, but you can have the guest room tomorrow." I shake my head, forcing myself to pull away from her motherly touch.

"I could never impose on you, I was just wondering if you have my spare key? I really want to go home." I let my voice crack at the end, hoping she wouldn't push for me to stay here. Geo looked at me like I was crazy, staring particularly long at my single backpack.

"Okay. Geo, could you get her key? It's in the top dresser with a purple tip," Hong nods to him and he leaves. " I do feel the need to remind you that you pretty much purged the place when you left. I don't remember the last time I visited either, so its probably super dusty too."

"I'll make do for tonight. I'll go to the store tomorrow for food and cleaning supplies, ok?"

"You'd better, you forgetful dip stick," Geo grunts as he hands me the key. "Actually, we could probably find somewhere open rn. We could swing by and-"

"I was actually going to walk home it's a nice night and-"

"Absolutely not." Hong interrupted me, sounding her top tier forceful. "I know you've been through some shit in the last 48 hours but I'm not going to let you commit suicide by stupidity!" I took a minute to process this, for a second I thought I was back in Gotham.

"It's not far... I only have my backpack and the crime rates here aren't even that high Hong. You know I took mi-"

"Yes yes, I know about your MMA history, but I draw the line. I don't know how much the others have let you get away with but you are not walking alone at night!" I don't fight her, letting her drag me to her car, Geo driving. We're at my complex within minutes.

"Take care of yourself Rosie." Hong says, giving me a half hug through the car window, Geo simply putting a hand on my head. "I'll come to check up on you- and if you don't answer the door I'll call the cops" she threatened before letting go.

"Thank you, seriously, this is so great that you had my key, and for dropping me off." I hesitate before heading up. "If you don't mind me asking, how long have you two been dating?" Geo's blush was extremely visible against his skin, even in the shadows.

"It's that obvious huh? We've been together for about 5 months," Hong replied, blushing as well.

"I always thought you two would look cute together," I said, this time with a genuine smile. I wave them off and opt to take the stairs up. I opened the door to my apartment.

It's freezing, dust dancing in the waning moonlight. I set my bag down, pulling out another change of clothing from what I had bought at the airport. I threw it into the bathroom before heading over to my emergency closet. Never though the emergency stash would be used like this. Maybe we shouldn't use it? Earth shattering heartbreak is too an emergency, fuck off. I'll restock it anyways. I pull out some towels and bath supplies. I get in the shower, letting the steaming hot water run over me.

Since when have I not been able to feel my fingers? I ask myself, flexing them one by one. It's like the stakeout in Boston that one winter, Dick brought us hot chocolate-

No. Don't even. Dust! This place is messy and I want to properly disinfect it- unconsciously increasing the pressure with my loofah- I'll need Lysol, tide pods, scrubs, dish rags. Probably should buy more plates too. Damian always had a peculiar adoration for matching cutlery sets, when he bought me some ramen bowls-

OW OW OW OW OW OW OW! I jerk up, my hand immediately going to my upper spine. I breathe in too quickly, taking in some water. I pull open the curtain and lean over the tub, cough and sputtering, trying to catch my breath.

"What- the- fuck-" I manage to gasp out. I was sitting down in the tub, I guess I had fallen asleep???? I shake the drowsiness off, turning off the water and getting out. Despite, or maybe because of, my broken sleep this last day I was still exhausted once I had gotten changed and my heartbeat had slowed down. I looked to my room door, but collapsed on the sofa, letting the musty leather suffocate me to sleep as my bones sunk into the couch.

Chapter 3: Safehouse

I awoke the same way I fell asleep.

Suffocating.

I wanted to get up, find a tissue to blow my nose, but every muscle in me ached a million ways. Did I fall off the empire state building while I was asleep? Did some cannibal beat me with a meat tenderizer for hours and just leave me on this couch? Holy FUCK.

Even twisting my face away from the couch so I could get some fresh air strained my neck. Every joint felt dislocated, limbs lifeless like a broken marionette. The dust. Allergies. I can't breathe...

Can't breathe

Suffocating! DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE- I panic, throwing myself off the couch. Landing on the ground actually didn't cause any more pain. I laid there for a minute, mentally trying to put my joints back in their sockets. It isn't a large enough distraction, and I'm soon hyper-aware of everything. My skin was burning where the sunlight touched, the dust in the air was so heavy I could have sworn I lost my vision again. I could hear the meaningless hustle of cars and people outside on the sidewalk, but worst of all was my pounding heartbeat in my ears.

THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP

I forced myself to get up, groaning as all my muscles pinched as they got back into place. I made a lot of unnecessary noise as I cleaned up my mess from last night. Throwing the shower caddy under the sink, flipping my backpack and letting everything fall out, slamming my dirty clothes into a pile in a corner. And I couldn't help but look around every couple of minutes, not entirely understanding where I was. Trying and failing to compensate for the noises that usually find me when I wake up. When I threw open the balcony windows, I realized I was still waiting to hear another window slide open and a soft "I'm home", even though it was well past noon.

How wild would it be if he actually went on parole after all that? Would a fight have broken out? Would it have been like the whole Owls mishap again?

Get your head out of your ass, they're his family; blood is thicker than water.

Blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

He's been helping and fighting alongside them much longer than you have you dip. I storm into the kitchen, only grunting as I smash my hip against the counter. I set out 4 pages of stationary in front of me and made lists; food, clothes, furniture, extra. I took my papers and started walking around, jotting notes of what I needed. Talking to fill the void.

"More toilet paper, hand soap, towels," I hum under my breath, not really checking the cabinets. "As for clothes I should-" my voice caught when I walked into the bedroom. It was freezing. I reflexively bit my lip, eyes watering. Instead of goosebumps, this cold sat in my stomach. The same cold in my hands, from the airplane seat, returned- lacing up my arms, down my stomach and legs. Stabbing my heart and restricting my lungs.

I'm alone.

"I should buy like 4 interchangeable outfits," the whimper barely sounded through the silent tears. I shut the door tight, almost running back to the living room. I sat just outside the ring of light, hunching over my paper. "Jeans, underwear, toothpasTE-" I sniffled but my vision only got blurrier.

"BoOKcASes, a bEd, mayBE a BeAr," my heart squeezed every time my voice broke, and in seconds I couldn't write on the soaked paper. The hiccups were my only air, snot streaking my trembling chin.

"What did I do? What. diD. I DOOO?" I sobbed, wailing into my hands. I curled around a leg of the coffee table, letting its corners cut into my stomach. Wailing until I was dry heaving, scratching my eyes to get rid of these acidic tears, blowing my nose with my shirt- moist blotches sticking to my skin. "Day- Damian" I cried to myself until I passed out again.

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

Afternoons spent silently reading with each other

Matching outfits for galas, some he designed himself, just for me

Our home downtown- bought to have some peace and quiet from his family. Although half the time they broke in, the other half we ended up back in the manor.

Traveling for work, for fun, for missions he didn't think were dangerous.

Sparring with Jason and Cass.

Jason showing me a hundred new bands when I got him into new music genres, trying to help each other find less aggressive ways to vent. Giving him the cream to completely erase the J from his cheek was different, the first time I saw him cry. He understood that blood family wasn't always loyal, and that I didn't mean it when I'd punch or insult someone to hide softer feelings.

Cass just vibing, understanding me and letting me get close. She was always the first to come help me when I was hurt, I became the person she could cry to. The way her face lit up when we were just able to chill a whole night, singing, watching movies and simply understanding each other on a fundamental level.

Barbra growing aggravated as she tried to teach me how to do more with technology than just googling things. Her forgiving my stupidity after I built her a new computer.

The long talks I had with Dick. Anything and everything. The first time hurt, when I called him out. He was giddy and chipper, dramatic as ever but when he caught me staring and stopped for long enough to look back, the pain in his eyes was clear as day. He had just broken up with Kory after all. He didn't need to lie, he didn't need to lighten the mood, he just needed to be honest. But once he could smile honestly again, I couldn't help but remember that he was the one who found out about me and Damian first. He'd been there to spy on our first date, hiding it from Bruce. He was the first to take me out for ice cream then subtly threaten my life if I harmed Damian, the first to swing by for spontaneous days out. To get to know me, to see if I was right for Damian.

Stephanie, Tim and I bonding over teasing and pranking Damian.

Tim and I being forced into caffeine and sleep interventions. Coffee and Coke. And then the beautiful irony of us falling asleep halfway through, especially after I taught him how to sleep with his eyes open.

Cooking with Alfred, learning his famous cookie recipes. Showing him more authentic Hispanic recipes, and him comforting me and being the first to compliment me after I was duped into cooking for the ENTIRE family.

Philosophical and political discussions with Bruce. Talks about war and power, cultural similarities and their origins. Talks about Damian as a child to mess with him. Opening up about paranoia, fear of losing loved ones, the controversies of being "too much" for some people. He understood, sometimes the ultimate sacrifices had to be made in a second. He understood because he was the same. We'd give up our lives before anyone else.

It's all gone.

So much of my past, and now, my whole future.

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

it's cold. i stripped off my shirt and blew my nose.

blood. eww, it's hot. i hold my shirt to my nose, crawling under the table, balling up until i could feel all 4 legs pressing into me.

tuneless humming, watching the room light up until my eyes burn.

I have to pee.

I wash my hands, the water making me aware of my bone dry mouth. My tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. I let the water pour through my fingers for another minute before walking away, laying back under the coffee table.

long grains. shades of brown. like dead grass. my fingers run over the million tiny bumps watching the wood fade from a blurry brown to a million tiny wooden grains.

My hair is on fire. The sun reaches it from under the table.

There are people in the hallway. They're as loud as the cars outside.

the ac is running. i start humming to drown it out.

i'm melting. i force my eyes to blink but they continue to burn.

I can't breathe. I stagger to the bathroom and after a few minutes of moving my jaw up and down, my mouth manages to open. I swig some water before throwing some on my face. fever? headache at least. I grab a towel to wipe my face, fumbling back into the hall. fuck was i looking directly at the sun? there is only one place colder than the sun. i walk to my bedroom, the cold imperceptible to me now.

but the second i put my eyes directly onto the empty bed frame, i could almost hear them sizzle. it exhausted me. I hadn't realized how hot my face was until i laid it on the floor. like a refreshing bath, calming. i just focused on my heat being transferred to the floor, unaware that I was falling asleep again.

((The writing for the last chapter is intentionally like that, I was attempting to write Rose being in a type of disassociated kind of state; where you aren't aware of time passing, noting seems real, even things in your immediate vicinity. Knowing that you should be doing something, drinking water, changing clothes, listening to music, ANYTHING-but still not doing it. The capitalization/simple sentences and repetition on the latter part was intentional. ))

#I dont know #i guess i wanted to see how/if my writing's changed #YES THIS IS WHERE I GOT THE THING FOR DIAVOLO'S DADS LETTER I REALLY LIKED IT SO I REUSED IT #I couldnt come up with a nice transitory chapter about Rose's friends coming to check on her/ reminding her that she's her own person/#coming back to gotham #BUT THEY DEF DONT GET BACK TOGETHER #not obey me!#NOT OBEY ME #Not OM!#Ozera nonsense

4 notes · View notes

stardancerluv · 4 years

Text

All Flowers Must Bloom Even In Winter

Part One

Summary: You meet an outlaw.

Warning: None

Arthur’s note: Love John...always want to give him some justice...so thanks to @theblackmaskclub I can!

You had come out to the west to meet up with you fiancée. Excitement, at the idea of living in a new fresh unexplored area tickled you. When you arrived, he told you it was over. Your heart shattered. The two of you had such a wonderful courtship but now it was over.

Before heading, west you had sold most of possessions. Not eager to head back to the east, you made a home for yourself in an established hotel.

One stormy night to get everyone’s mind off a thunderstorm, raging outside you went over to the piano player and asked if he could play the few songs that you knew how to sing.

With a small nod, he did. So the two of you got people smiling and having a good time. At one point, you took a break the hotel owner approached you. He happily and rather excitedly, he offered you a job. After some thought, you decided to accept it.

That was a six months ago. Now the winter was upon the sleepy town you called home. You were sharing some musings with the hotel owner on what should be done for Christmas since it would be there in three short weeks, when a stranger came in.

Exhausted after a long day, and not wanting to be the way of him doing business, you headed up to your room.

Taking off your dress and loosening your corset you retired for the evening.

*****

The next morning, sitting in front of your mirror you shivered as you brushed out your hair and then twisted and twined it back up to a very pretty style. Glancing out the window, you saw the blowing snow.

It was too cold, to have a bath right now. Perhaps, you would take one tomorrow. So today, you powdered and perfumed yourself.

Looking, through your dresses you chose a simple pale green one. Over the months, you had collected a few dresses. Because a girl needed her dresses. Slipping on some gloves, you glanced out the window again and as you did, you spotted someone holding down their black hat.

You don’t know why but when they looked skyward, you ducked behind your curtain. Despite the look of annoyance that was etched across their face, they had a piercing eyes and looked well groomed. And for the first time, in what felt like a lifetime, butterflies were unleashed in your stomach.

Shaking, the feeling off you headed down for some breakfast. Maybe you, Charlie would tell you about that visitor that came in late last night.

Having basic run of the hotel, you took the stairs to the kitchen.

“Hello Anna.” You said, sweetly and exchanged some pleasant words. Soon, you came to find out that an entire gang had come to seek shelter from the storm. Grabbing some eggs, bread and some coffee, you took your table towards the back.

The large room was filled with laughter and excited voices. You had not seen that many people since your days in the east. It was comforting. You sat back and watched it all. A hush, fell over the entire room as the man with the black hat, entered the room.

The butterflies came back. He was even better looking this close then when you spotted him from your room.

He looked over the room and once again the talking and the laughter filled the room. So he had some control over these people your interest was tickled. As he came to the back, near where you sat, you kept your eyes downcast, hopefully he would pay you no mind. You would get enough attention that night when you would sing.

The wood creeked and groaned as someone sat sat down near you. You knew already before he spoke it was mostly like your stranger in black.

“Looks, you got yourself a wonderful portion there.” His voice was deep and mysterious, making your heart pick up speed. “Is there way, I could get a helping like that little flower?” He gestured to your plate.

You turned, as you did you watched as he struck a match and lit his cigar. Something about it, what you did not know but damn he looked good.

“Little flower?” You asked with a smile.

Shaking his fingers, he snuffed out the flame and after taking a few puffs, he exhaled contently from his cigar. “Yes, you’re a flower in this frozen wasteland.” He smirked.

You gave him a smile. That was the sweetest endearment, someone gave you in a very long time. “I suppose, but there is an entire bouquet at the other end of town.”

“They are not flowers, you silly little girl. You are apart from them. That is why I speak with you and have not asked for one of them.”

You flushed, looking downward. “I didn’t mean to imply anything just an observation since many are older and some would dare say far fairer them I could ever be.”

His upper lip wrinkled. “I doubt it.” He took a pull on his cigar. “I now grow hungrier. Can you help me or should I ask one of my men?”

“I can.” You quickly say, turning on your heal you made your way to the kitchen.

You sliced a large piece of bread, unwrapping the cloth near it and shaved off a hunk of cheese. You spooned on some eggs beside them. Lastly, you poured the black coffee.

As you put the coffee back on the stove, you found out who this man was. Anna, happily had told you that you were bringing breakfast to the handsome yet incredibly infamous outlaw John Bishop.

Heaven keep you, that made the butterflies flap harder in your stomach. You had drawn the eye of an outlaw. You were tickled beyond words

Holding, your head high you made your way back to him. Though, your heart sunk when you saw that someone had joined him. They turned and gave you a lop sided smile when you neared.

“Here you go, Mr. Bishop.” You said, sweetly as you placed the plate then the cup down in front of him.

His lips, twitched up on the one side of his face. “Someone told you?”

You shrugged. “Our cook, but I don’t care.”

“Since, you know who I am, can I know your name little flower?”

“Certainly, name is Y/N.”

“Y/N, Y/N...I like it. Well thank you, little flower.” He remarked gesturing to the plate of food.

“Well baby, then..” A hand came to rest on your lower back. It was hot and beefy. “I would like some food too.”

Your smile, your expression dropped as you stepped away. “Excuse me.”

“Vic, touch the lady again and I will take it.”

“John, she is a simple....”

“Shut your mouth.” He smoothed his mustache. “Little flower, excuse my brother’s stupidity.” He looked at the food then back at you. “You spoiled me, by bringing me cheese.”

“I was hoping, you’d like that.” You smiled.

“If I ask my brother to leave, will you grab your plate and join me?”

“I think I could do that.”

“But John..”

“Leave Vic, you have overstayed your welcome.”

Vic grumbling, he gave you a look as he walked away. You retrieved your plate and coffee. Siting opposite him, you were not sure how this would be.

“So sitting with an infamous outlaw doesn’t bother you?”

“I’ve been out here for a while and you have been nothing by kind.” You shrugged. “I am not your judge.” And you took a bite of your bread.

“I think I am beginning to grow fond of you little flower.”

#john bishop x you #john bishop x reader #jane got a gun fanfiction #jane got a gun #all flowers must bloom even in winter #part one #ewan mcgregor

14 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Storybrooke Haunted Farms

“Want to be chased through a corn maze? Take a ride in a trailer full of hay in the middle of the woods? Play paintball with zombies? Explore a haunted ghost ship? If this sounds like fun to you, come to Storybrooke Haunted Farms where the fun is cheap and the thrills are terrifying. Open from October 1st - October 31st.”

Emma Swan has been working at Storybrooke Haunted Farms for the past four years, and she’s done everything from work the haunted hayride to chasing paying customers through a corn maze with a fake chainsaw. It’s always been a good way for her to make a little extra cash for the holidays for her son, and it’s most likely the best time she’s ever had working.

That is until her assignment changes and she’s made to work on the pirate ship exhibit with Killian Jones, quite possibly the most obnoxious man alive.

Rating: Teen-ish

A/n: I told myself that I didn't have time to write a Halloween story, but then my brain was like “what if” and I figured I’d do something for @cshalloweek even if this doesn’t really fit a theme. So here we are! I hope you have a spook-tacular time reading 🎃

Found on AO3 | HERE |

Tagging: @captainsjedi @wellhellotragic @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods@idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81

-/-

Laces tighten around Emma’s back, and her breath hitches as her lungs are very literally constricted from the corset that’s being tightened to cinch her waist and push her breasts up several inches higher than they should ever be.

The money may not be worth this.

There’s another tug, and Emma gasps as she leans forward to curl her fingers around the edge of the antique vanity in front of her, her eyes squeezing shut as she imagines herself to be literally anywhere else.

Anywhere.

And she hasn’t even had to put on the skirts or the top or had her hair pinned back so that bobby pins are sticking into the back of her neck to give her a headache.

“Mary Margaret,” Emma gasps before clenching her teeth as yet another lace is tightened, “it’s too tight. I’m not going to be able to breathe.”

“You’ll become accustomed to it. I promise. It’s really not that bad.”

“You only say that because you’re not wearing one, which is complete and utter bullshit by the way.”

Mary Margaret sighs behind Emma as she tugs again, and Emma’s eyes fly open so that she can see her face in the mirror. And her boobs. And an unnaturally tiny waist. This is not normal, and there’s no way that she’s going to become accustomed to it.

“You know I don’t make the decisions on the costumes. That is completely and totally out of my hands.”

“Your mother owns the place.”

“Step,” Mary Margaret corrects. “Step-mother. She owns it.”

“Yeah, but your mom owned it first. It was her brain child, and I feel like you should get some say in what costumes and attractions people get to work in. I wore jeans and a plaid shirt last year, Marg. I’m having to wear a full-on corset and medieval dress this year. How the hell am I supposed to run?”

There’s a final tug, and Emma almost pops out of the corset. “I don’t think you are. I mean, the haunted ship is our newest attraction, and it’s not going to be like the hayride or the corn maze. There’s not a lot of running after people. It’s more like jump scares.”

“But I hate jump scares.”

“You like the money, and you fit into the costumes we ordered. If you really hate it, I’ll see if you can get put on the rotation for the zombie paintball.”

“I would rather walk around this place in nothing but my underwear than be a team member for zombie paintball.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It takes another fifteen minutes for Emma to fully get into the costume. There are layers to it, far too many skirts than should ever be necessary, but it’s apparently some kind of authentic costume for a bar wench that would serve pirates in whatever century is being depicted on the ship. Emma doesn’t know, and she doesn’t really care about historical accuracy. All she cares about is the fact that every night for all of October, she’s going to be putting on fifteen layers of a dress and a corset and having her hair teased to look like it hasn’t been brushed in days. At least her makeup is relatively normal.

If smearing mascara down her cheeks and powdering her face to make her look paler than usual is normal.

At least they’re not doing her hair or her makeup today. Just this dumb costume.

Leaving the trailer where the costumes are kept, Emma makes her way outside as a gust of chilled air moves over her, causing goosebumps to immediately rise on the exposed parts of her skin. At least her legs won’t be cold with all of their layers. The rest of her might just freeze to death, however.

It’s only September right now, but from experience Emma knows just how miserable October nights are when not wrapped up in coats and scarves and the warmest knit cap that Emma owns. With how things are now, she knows that this year is going to be even more miserable.

Sucking it up, Emma kicks her leg forward to give herself more space to move, and she follows the pathway in the woods down to get down to the pier. The leaves have already started to change colors, most of them beginning to fall to the ground, and they crunch underneath her feet as she follows the familiar path. There are men up in the trees setting up rigging and hanging props, and she spots Jeff hooking up the speaker system that plays throughout the grounds for music and in rare cases, emergency announcements. Emma has only heard of children getting separated from their parents in her time here, but she does know that there was once an issue with a chainsaw and someone’s foot.

That’s why everyone has to sign waivers now – employees and customers alike.

Welcome to Storybrooke Haunted Farms: The Scariest Place in Maine.

Emma’s been working here for the past four years. It’s a seasonal job, only half of September for training and costume fittings and the month of October for actual work, but it pays better than being a waitress at Granny’s does all year. It’s a great atmosphere working there, but the tips are not great unless she gets one of the good shifts. She needs more money than she’s getting, and scaring the shit out of people isn’t a bad gig.

Well, it wasn’t when she was hopping up onto a moving trailer full of hay and people and frightening the people who were screaming the loudest as well as those who were quietly shaking in fear. The haunted hayride through the woods is by far the least terrifying attraction that they have here, but it’s definitely the most fun for employees to work. Then again, Emma loved working in the corn mazes where people paid her to chase after them with a chainsaw (fake) or in the set that was made to look like an abandoned hospital wing. Though, in that last one she had to wear one of those awful slutty nurse’s costumes, and heels, and that was difficult to move around in as well.

Not like this costume though.

She keeps having to kick her legs to not trip over the stone pathway as the thatch of trees thins out and the ocean comes into view, salt thickening in the air and the sun shining a little brighter down onto her skin. And there, in all of its glory, is a massive ship with tall white sails that are currently being sliced up and painted to look battered as fake moss is added to the sides of the dark wood. None of this will be noticed in the dark, of course, but Regina is nothing if not excessive in her decorations. Anything to make more money when she doesn’t exactly need it.

At least she never shows up to the actual site. That would be more of a nightmare than any of the attractions.

(It’s also how she’s going to get out of having to wear this costume every day.)

“Emma,” a voice calls out, and she twists around to look at Graham Humbert standing with several planks of wood over his shoulder like that’s not big deal.

“Hey,” she greets, not really stepping closer for fear of getting accidentally knocked out. “What do they have you building today?”

“The bridge to the ship. She’s a beauty, don’t you think? Are you working on her this year?”

“What gave it away?” Emma reaches down to grab at the sides of her skirts, picking them up before letting them fall down with enough power that leaves scatter beneath her. “I don’t exactly know my role yet, but they’ve got me in this costume for it. I wish we could do dress rehearsals in normal clothes.”

His eyes flicker up and down her body, and instinctively, she wants to reach up to cover her chest. However, she knows that will just make her boobs looks bigger, and as nice as Graham is, she’s simply not as interested in dating him as he is with her. He’s more of a friend to her than anything, and he’s a really good influence in Henry’s life. If she were to date him, she’d just fuck things up and make him no longer want to spend time with Henry. That’s what happens every time she gets involved with anyone.

“Authenticity, I believe,” Graham finally says back, his eyes landing on her face. “I think it’ll be a fun attraction to work. I’ll have to come by and check it out once you guys open.”

“Is the Sheriff really supposed to pay to be scared by other people?”

“It’s a fun time. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t come here at least once a year.”

“Well,” Emma starts, already the slightest bit uncomfortable with the way that Graham is swaying closer to her with the wood, “thank you for your contribution that goes toward my son’s Christmas gifts. I’ve got to go to rehearsals now. Make sure that this bridge is steady so I’m not falling into the ocean, okay?”

Graham salutes her before she’s stepping away from him and heading down to the docks, nearly tripping over her dress and the uneven ground. If this continues, she’s going to the costume department and getting a pair of pants to work in. Pants would definitely be better than this.

People are already milling around down here, most of them in tattered pirate costumes with cups of Starbucks in their hand, and while she recognizes a few of them, most are new to her and must not frequent Granny’s too often or only come during Ruby’s shifts at night so that Emma would have never run into them. She recognizes Will Scarlet, though, and she waves to him before turning to take a shaky step up onto the ship where she comes face to face with a man dressed in all black leather with a red vest that’s nearly unbuttoned all the way to his navel.

What in the world?

Emma trips again on a piece of loose board before catching herself and looking up past the dark chest hair and skull and bones silver charms only to a stubble-covered jaw that belongs to a man with some of the bluest eyes that she’s ever seen. He must have gone through makeup today because his eyes are lined with black eyeliner and his hair is messily coiffed, and Emma feels the slightest bit of fire stir in her belly that she immediately tampers down.

Who the hell is that?

“You okay there, lass?”

Emma almost stumbles again at the deep timber of his voice, and she is definitely asking if she can get an alternate costume that includes pants. This is ridiculous.

“I’m fine,” she huffs, brushing her hands against her skirts and turning away from him. “It’s this damn costume. I’m so uncomfortable.”

“Your discomfort is a cross I’m willing to bear”

“Ha,” Emma scoffs as her eyes roll and her mind immediately decides that she hates this guy. Who is he to try to joke around and compliment her? She doesn’t even know him. “You’re hysterical. Is the abundant amount of cleavage you have showing your choice or the company’s?”

“A combination of both.” He uncrosses his arms and his legs and steps forward so that he’s back in her space. A chill runs down her spine as the ship rocks beneath them. “I’m not particularly modest.”

“I assumed.” “What about you, love?”

“Not your love, and what about me?”

“Is the amount of cleavage your choice?”

Emma curls her hands into fists and turns to look at this obnoxious man who is way too comfortable with her, and the smirk on his lips does nothing to lessen the hatred that’s simmering beneath her skin. “It is obviously not my choice.”

“It’s a pity nothing can be done about that.” He sticks his hand out in front of her, and she almost laughs before she realizes that he’s serious. Begrudgingly, she reaches forward and takes his hand in hers. “Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan.”

“Swan,” he repeats back, his tongue visibly running behind the back of his teeth. Is it possible to hate someone so much within one-hundred and twenty seconds of meeting them? “I like it.”

“Oh, well, if you like it, I guess I’ll have to keep it forever, won’t I?”

Killian winks, and she imagines him having to wear a corset so tight that he can’t breathe too. It’s a weird form of torture, but it’s all she can focus on right now. Obviously the blood can’t reach her brain right now, and there’s only so long she can live like this.

She’s got at least six weeks.

Shit.

Emma opens her mouth to say something, most likely to tell him to go screw himself but in less friendly terms, but then there’s a loud clap from across the deck where David is standing on top of a barrel with a clipboard in hand. He was made to be a detective and a cruise director all at once. Emma doesn’t think that he married Mary Margaret simply so that he could be a part of the Blanchard-Mills Storybrooke Haunted Farms legacy, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was part of the initial appeal.

Holidays are kind of a big deal in this town, and being in love with them is pretty much a requirement for living here. If they (whoever they are) find out that you don’t buy flowers for Valentine’s Day or candy for Halloween, they have the power to kick you out.

Probably not, but Emma has heard rumors. This is the best place she’s ever lived, and she’s not really a big fan of the thought of having to leave. Henry wouldn’t be either. He’s too in love with Ruby for him to want to leave.

“Okay,” David starts, his voice louder than the sound of a hammer hitting against wood and a saw cutting down the beams for the bridge between the docks and the ship. “So welcome aboard the Storybrooke Haunted Farms team. We’re excited to have you here, whether or not you’re new or have worked for us before, and my wife and I want you all to remember that while we want you to scare the ever-loving shit out of people, we also want you to have fun. But also to be safe. If you haven’t signed a waiver, please see Belle to my right to sign your forms.”

People shuffle across the dock over to Belle, and she begins handing out papers as Emma shifts her weight to one side, trying to put as much distance between she and Killian Jones as possible. He’s got to be one of those obnoxious people who thinks his looks can excuse his actions, and she is not here for that. But she’s also not here for causing issues at work before it even really starts, so she doesn’t want to make it too obvious that she’s moving away from him.

“So, this our newest attraction,” David continues with his arm outstretched to show off the ship, “and you guys are going to be our guinea pigs, so please bear with us on any issues or problems running it. We’re counting on you guys to notice problems and report them, so if you see a way we need to improve, don’t be scared to ask. Only our customers are supposed to be scared around here.”

There’s an awkward laugh that emits from everyone. It’s really a shame that David isn’t a dad yet because he’s already got the jokes down.

“Now, after all of our waivers are signed, Belle and I are going to hand out your roles before we start practice out here. We’ve got two weeks before opening, and while that’s not a lot of time, I know that you’ll all get the hang of things.”

“The Nolans are quite the optimistic bunch, aren’t they?” Killian questions, his breath hot as he leans into her ear. She jumps away, this time visibly putting space between them, and if someone doesn’t smack the smirk off his face before the end of October, Emma is doing it the day she gets her final paycheck.

“How do you know the Nolans?”

“Dave went to the Police Academy with my older brother.”

Great. That means Killian is here as some kind of friend to David, and Emma is going to have to be nice to him. This feels a hell of a lot like when she tells Henry to be nice to his classmates even when half of them are six-year-old devils.

She’s a really good mom, obviously.

“How do you know them, love?”

“Not your love,” Emma repeats as she steps away from him and moves to where Belle and David are handing out paperwork. “And they’re pretty popular in the town. Everyone knows them.”

“Well, I’m new to town, so I guess I’ll have to get used everyone who is popular in town.”

“Okay.”

At that, she tries to dodge out of his way, but that’s a bit difficult when it’s a small area crowded with dozens of people all headed into the same direction, so he’s constantly at her heels. At least he’s not talking any longer, but it’s almost like there’s this overwhelming presence following her around, like he’s peering over her shoulder and waiting for her to slip up or fall into the charms that he very obviously thinks that he has.

“Emma,” David smiles when she walks up to him. The annoyance she’s felt from Killian fades away, if only for fifteen seconds, at the sound of a familiar voice who isn’t going to annoy her or try to flirt with her. “Your costume looks fantastic.”

“You know, that’s what I said, mate, but she didn’t seem to like my compliment too much.”

David’s eyes glance at her before fliting behind her to look at Killian, and from the smile that’s still on his face, Emma can tell that he does, indeed, know Killian Jones.

Of course.

“Do you two know each other?” David asks.

“No,” Emma blurts out.

“We just met a few minutes ago,” Killian explains as he bumps his shoulder into hers like they’re old pals. “I think we might be fast friends, me and Swan.”

Emma can’t hold back her scoff, even when David’s eyes slant at her. “Yeah,” Emma sighs as her hand moves behind her to slap Killian’s back, “fast friends. That’s exactly how I would describe the two of us.”

Her stomach drops, which really doesn’t help anything when the corners of David’s lips turn up and stretch all the way up to his eyes.

“That’s actually perfect.”

“And why’s that?”

-/-

“He has me playing some kind of damsel in distress,” Emma huffs out as she paces back and forth in the kitchen of her apartment, a glass of wine in her hand that she really wishes had more alcohol in it. “I mean, it’s not technically a damsel in distress, but it pretty much is. I have to work with this jackass who thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips with his pirate costume and deep accent and the way that he swaggers across the deck, and the two of us have to act like some kind of old-timey couple on the bow of the ship pretending that we’re in love and having a fight to distract everyone from the people sneaking up behind them before he’s pushing me off the side of the boat.”

“What’s a jackass?” Henry asks her from his seat on the couch in the living room, and Emma immediately reaches her free hand up to cover her mouth.

“I shouldn’t have said that, kid,” Emma apologizes, flashing him a smile as Ruby snickers from her spot sitting on the counter. “That’s not a word we use. I’m sorry.”

Henry shrugs his shoulders and goes back to watching his Ninja Turtles Show. There’s no reason she should have such a good kid, but the universe obviously decided that she needed some kind of good luck.

By far the best thing ever to happen to her even if the circumstances of her pregnancy sucked.

“Is it really that bad, though?” Emma’s head snaps back over to Ruby to see her tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Like, I saw this guy when he got into town. He’s apparently moving here and staying at Granny’s until he gets an apartment. He’s not a bad looking guy, Ems. In fact, I would say that he’s attractive. How bad can it be to be paid to flirt with him while he’s wearing all kinds of leather and eyeliner and looking sinful?”

“I am hooked up to a rigging system and get thrown off the side of the boat.”

“Okay, granted, that part is bad, but it’s not all bad. You literally used to have to run for hours a night with a chainsaw to scare people. This is much better.”

“I don’t think you understand how bad this guy is.”

Ruby arches a perfectly manicured brow and tilts her wine glass to her lips. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“I usually don’t.”

Ruby’s eyes look over to Henry, and that’s when Emma knows that she really doesn’t want to hear what Ruby is going to say. “Henry is how old? Six?”

“Mhm.”

“And you’re twenty-four, correct?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve had one boyfriend since he was born, right?”

“It’s been more than one.”

Ruby holds up her hand and bends one finger back before pointing that one finger at her chin. “Walsh Osbourne is the only one I can think of. Would you like to enlighten me as to who the others are?”

“I have been on dates with men other than,” Emma makes sure to lower her voice so that Henry can’t hear, “Walsh, but I haven’t introduced any of them to Henry after him. I can’t take the risk that Henry is going to get attached.”

“Which is exactly why you won’t date Graham.”

Emma’s cheeks flame up. She really needs more wine, but she’s working the early shift at Granny’s tomorrow and still has to go to practice tomorrow night. “I don’t want to date Graham. He’s a nice guy, but I’m just not in the mood for dating. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I literally spend most of my day working multiple jobs. When I’m not working, I’m taking care of my kid. That’s what happens when you get knocked up at seventeen and have literally no resources.”

Ruby raises her hands in the air, an apology already on her lips, but then the volume mutes on the television and Henry is moving over to them in the kitchen, his mop of brown hair messily situated on top of his head as he opens up the fridge.

“What are you looking for, kid? I’m pretty sure you ate dinner at Granny’s with Ruby.”

“Yeah, but I’m thirsty, and water just isn’t cutting it.” He turns to smile at her then, and Emma’s heart aches over how much he looks like Neal. Couldn’t he at least have gotten a little bit of her in him? Would that have been too much to ask? “Can I have orange juice?”

“No,” Emma says as she steps over him and grabs the gallon of milk from the shelf and turns around to place it on the kitchen countertop while Ruby hands her a glass from the cabinet. “There’s too much sugar in orange juice for you to have it this late at night.”

“But it’s Friday, Mom.” “And?”

“I don’t have school in the morning.”

“Yeah,” she smiles as she pours him a small glass of milk, “I know. You’re spending the day with Mary Margaret and David tomorrow while I’m at work, and I can almost guarantee that one of them will give you all kinds of sugar so that you never go to bed ever again.”

His lips stretch into a smile so large that Emma can see them under the clear plastic glass. “That would be the coolest thing ever. Can I wear my Ninja Turtles costume tomorrow?”

“Now, that, is something I can agree to.”

Henry nods his head and walks back to the couch, and Emma smiles to herself before turning back to look at Ruby who is sipping her wine. Emma wonders if maybe just maybe she’ll have forgotten the conversation they were having, but that’s unlikely.

“Hot pirate dude makes you all tingly inside, and you’re nervous that you’re going to act on it.”

Yep. Ruby isn’t going to let this go.

“That is not true. I am not going to sleep with him.”

“Whatever you say. I think he’d be a good one to bang one out with so you can release some of the tension in your shoulders.”

“I’m going to kick you out.”

“No, you’re not,” Ruby sighs as she gets down from the counter. “You and Henry love me too much to do that. Isn’t that right, kid?”

Henry doesn’t say anything, too furiously blushing at having Ruby talk to him to form words. Poor kid has it bad.

-/-

The morning shift at Granny’s on Saturday is as hectic as ever, none of the tables ever emptying out and nearly every single person being annoyed until they get their coffee, and if Emma didn’t like the tips that came with working one of the busiest times of the week, she’d request another time. One day she’s going to have to find another job, garner some skill set that will actually give her normal pay and normal hours, but she hasn’t exactly figured that out yet.

Thankfully, cost of living in Storybrooke is not high.

Being a waitress still sucks sometimes, though. She has enough of cleaning up after other people at home, and if one more person tells her to smile when she’s cleaning a table where their kid spilled syrup, she will lose it.

And then probably lose her job.

But she does finish work around two with a little bit more cash in her pocket, and that’s all that really matters. That’s also all that matters as she drives her yellow bug across town to Storybrooke Haunted Farms so that she can get into costume and go to practice.

(Mary Margaret agreed to letting Emma buy a costume with pants for some of the nights, and she’s never been so excited over such a little thing.)

The grounds are pretty much empty when she gets there, and it’s weirdly peaceful that way. It’s a beautiful place, almost completely out in nature, and if it wasn’t for the fact that someone is driving around in a golf cart with a pile of fake dead bodied behind them, Emma could forget that this is all one big Halloween event.

Mary Margaret said that she was down by the docks with Henry supervising the continuing construction on their pirate ship, so Emma heads down that way, not bothering to change out of her uniform quite yet. She just tugs her red leather jacket a little more tightly around her as the air gets a little bit cooler the closer she gets to the ocean.

Emma sees Mary Margaret first. She’s sitting in a golf cart, the red one she always drives, but there’s no Henry. If Emma didn’t know that Mary Margaret was one of the most responsible people on the planet, she’d take off running looking for her kid, but there’s no way that Mary Margaret has lost him.

“Hey,” Emma greets as she slides into the seat next to her and catches a glimpse of Mary Margaret’s text to David, “where’s my kid?”

“Killian is giving him a tour of the ship.”

Emma blanches, and it takes everything in her not to run down to the docks and pull Henry out of there. Why the hell would Mary Margaret pass him off to a stranger?

“You just let my son go hang out with a stranger? That seems safe.”

Mary Margaret looks over to her with a shake of a head. “Killian is not a stranger, Emma. We’ve known him for years. Plus, you know him. He’s your scene partner.”

“I’ve known him for less than a week. I don’t send my six-year-old off with people I’ve known for a week.”

Mary Margaret clicks her tongue, and Emma scoffs before crossing her arms over her chest. What is this guy’s deal?

“Killian is a nice guy, maybe a little rough around the edges, but Henry saw him walking around in his pirate costume and lost his mind and begged to go talk to him. Killian played along with it, acting like he really was a pirate, and Henry asked him if he could show him the ship. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“The big deal is that the guy is a flirtatious ass, and he didn’t need to know that I had a kid.”

Mary Margaret’s lips part, but she never gets to say anything. “Mom,” Henry yells out as he runs toward the two of them at what she knows is his fastest speed, “Mom, Mom, Mom.”

“What?” Emma laughs, willing away all of her negative emotions to put a smile on her face as Henry gets closer to her, Killian unfortunately following right behind him. “You’re going to be out of breath if you keep running that fast.”

Henry keeps running until he comes to a skidding stop right in front of the golf cart. His cheeks are red and his chest is heaving, but there’s an undeniable joy in those brown eyes of his. As annoyed as she is that Mary Margaret sent him off with a guy who she doesn’t like, at least he’s happy.

“Mom, I have had the best day. I got to eat pancakes with David and then they let me go up into the treehouse and then I met Killian and he gave me a tour of the pirate ship. Is it true that you get to work with him on it? Really? Do you get to be a pirate? I want to be a pirate! Can I be a pirate for Halloween?”

“Woah,” Emma laughs as she pulls Henry up onto the cart so that he can sit in her lap as she pushes some of his hair back, “slow down and take a deep breath. Not even the Flash goes this fast.”

“I want to be a pirate for Halloween,” Henry says a bit more slowly, his words still coming out the slightest bit stilted, “because pirates wear cool clothes and have swords and get to talk all funny sometimes. And they hunt for buried treasure. Do you think there’s buried treasure here?”

“I – ”

“There might be,” Killian adds in, and Emma is going to bite off her tongue and fill her entire mouth with blood to keep from spewing every word she’s told Henry that he can’t say out at Killian. “I think we’d have to find a treasure map to know for sure.”

Mary Margaret gasps next to Emma, and she quickly turns to the side to look at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, seriously. What? You don’t get to just gasp like that and then not tell me what’s going on.”

“I will tell you later when we aren’t around so many people, but I have an idea for an activity.”

Emma narrows her eyes, but Mary Margaret doesn’t pay any attention to her, immediately pulling her phone back out and typing something in that Emma can’t see because Mary Margaret turned the brightness down.

“Or,” Henry suggests to Killian, obviously still stuck on this whole treasure map thing, “we could use those things that old men use on the beach to find money.”

“We could, lad, but do you know where we’d get one?”

“Probably from an old man.”

Emma squeezes Henry a little tighter and buries her face in his hair to try to stop laughing. He needs a shower, but that’s going to have to wait until after her practice.

“Henry,” she begins, “why don’t you and Mary Margaret go check out what else is going on around here while I go to practice? I’ll come get you when I’m finished, and then we’ll go to dinner, yeah? I’m thinking grilled cheese.”

His eyes light up with his smile, and Emma’s heart pangs the slightest bit. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” She leans down to kiss his cheek over and over again until he’s a giggling mess. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It takes a few minutes before Mary Margaret and Henry drive off, and then she’s left alone with Killian as he kicks his heel into the ground and digs up a bit of dirt and sand. He’s in his costume today, the same one as before, but this time a long black duster has been added. If it’s anything like her dress, Emma knows that it has to be heavy, but he doesn’t seem to have any problem moving around in it. And she swears that even more buttons are undone on his shirt so that she can see more of his stomach and the hair that seems to go all the way down.

Who even is this guy?

“That’s a nice kid you’ve got there, Swan,” he tells her. She nearly jumps at the sound of his voice, and Emma realizes that she let her defenses down, if only for a moment.

She shouldn’t have.

“I tend to think so, and no, I’m not biased at all.”

Killian flashes a smile, and her stomach flips without her permission. “I think so without any bias. He was so curious about everything. It was great. I think I’ve turned him into a pirate yet.”

Emma’s lips curve up before she remembers who she’s talking to. It’s so easy for her to forget things when someone is gushing about Henry – she likes to think she isn’t a total screw-up when it comes to him – and she doesn’t need to be doing that, especially not around this guy.

“Look,” Emma starts as she crosses her arms over her chest, “thank you for spending time with Henry today. That was really nice of you, but I’m not going to suddenly fall into your arms because you know how to charm a kid. And I don’t want you thinking that I’ll date you if you’re nice to Henry. That’s not how this works, so if you’re using him to get to me, you can stop.”

His brows furrow together, two dark black patches of hair nearly forming into one, and the smile that was on his lips curves downward into a scowl as his shoulders straighten up to make him taller than she knows that he is. “You may not believe me, love, but I had no intention of using your kid to get in your pants. Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

And at that, he turns around and walks away, his coat swirling behind him, while Emma is left standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

-/-

For the next two weeks, Emma splits her time between waitressing, spending time with Henry, doing final run-throughs for Storybrooke Haunted Farms, and very occasionally sleeping. It’s hectic. Honestly, she might be delusional and imagining some of the things that have happened, but she’s going to chalk that up to lack of sleep and extreme physical activity. Her feet probably don’t fit in anything other than her sneakers because they’re so swollen from her standing for about eighteen hours a day.

It’s a lot.

But it’s also her favorite time of the year.

The temperatures have officially dipped to the point where she can wear jeans and a thick sweater every day while sipping on hot chocolate, and all of the leaves have changed colors so that everything just feels like fall. It’s the best time of the year, and Emma will not change her position on that.

Except, well, the fact that working at the Haunted Farm is an actual nightmare for her this year.

(They do, however, have a new kid’s attraction that’s a treasure hunt and not at all scary, and Emma is thankful that Mary Margaret got the idea and executed it so that Henry has somewhere to stay for a little while before Granny picks him up and takes him home to go to sleep.)

It’s going smoothly, relatively speaking. She’s got her routine down, even the part where she falls off the ship and suspends in the air while a speaker plays a splashing sound as fake thunder roars above them, and she’s got all of her scenes with Killian memorized to the point where she doesn’t jump when someone screams anymore….but it’s all like torture.

Emma has always prided herself over not caring too much about people she’s not close to so that she can save that emotional energy for something more important, but something about Killian Jones makes her feel horrible for pretty much being a bitch to him all the time. He is most definitely still this conceited, self-centered, far too flirtatious guy, but he is also the first person to help someone out when they get too freaked out by the jump scares, the guy who will bring people coffee (even her), and he never fails to make Henry smile even though Emma’s pretty sure that she scared Killian more than she has scared any of the people who pay to come to the Haunted Farms.

She hates it.

She hates that he’s probably a good person who wasn’t actually using Henry to get into her pants. That’s not something she’s totally decided on, but she feels a little more guilt every single time he opens his mouth to say something, takes one look at her, and then either turns away or makes some kind of innuendo that causes her cheeks to flame up.

Nothing about Killian Jones makes any sense, and for some reason her mind wants her to care about him.

It’s the law of proximity or something. That has to be it. They’re spending over half of their day together, every day, and it’s some kind of biological reaction to be tricked into wanting to know the other person so that things aren’t awkward.

Emma would honestly rather things just be awkward.

At least right now they’re in the middle of a shift, and there’s not exactly time to make awkward small talk. Instead, she’s sitting on a wooden barrel in the corner waiting for a new set of customers to walk across the bridge so that they can get this show on the road.

Or on the sea. It’s whatever.

The music starts playing over the speakers that are attached to the ship, and Emma slowly stands from the barrel, smoothing out her skirt and rubbing her hands over her arms to try to get the chill bumps to go away. It’s a little past ten o’clock, the sun having set several hours ago, and the only real light is coming from the way that the moon reflects off of the ocean. They’ve got these smoke machines out here to make everything look a little hazier, but it’s really not needed. It’s already hard to see a damn thing.

Killian follows right behind her, his duster hitting against her back, and she’s the slightest bit jealous that he gets to wear a coat. It’s under forty degrees out here right now, the ocean not helping that at all, and Emma is never going to be warm again.

“You ready to do this again?” she asks Killian.

“Aye,” he whispers back. “You know, I don’t mean to upset you Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”

A chuckle escapes from her without her permission, but she quickly corrects it and gets into position so that she and Killian can begin their fake fight.

Getting paid to fight with an (kind of) asshole? Quite possibly the greatest job she’s ever had.

They start their back and forth as people move closer to them, their eyes wide as they take in the ship from a new perspective, but Emma makes sure that her eyes only stay focused on Killian as he glowers above her with his hands resting on the buckle of his belt.

“But you said you loved me,” Emma screams out, pushing her hands against Killian’s chest.

“I’m a pirate, darling,” he seethes, stepping into her space and dipping his head down so that they are eye-to-eye. “I don’t love, especially when it comes to a bar wench like you. You’re more entertainment than anything else.”

Emma pushes back at him as she steps backward, moving closer and closer to the edge of the ship while Killian crowds her in, still spitting words at her to keep everyone entertained. Emma feels her harness tighten, the technician obviously preparing to fling her off of the ship now, and Emma sucks in a deep breath in preparation.

She is not working this attraction next year.

“It’s a pity that you thought I loved you, truly. I think you would have been nice to keep around.”

Her heart quickens at the sound of Killian’s words, the ones that are the final warning sound before she’s flung off of the ship, and then she’s being pulled back and suspended into the air, the harness tightening around her chest as the fake thunder rolls over the speakers and the audience gasps. They’re about to be scared shitless too. They just don’t know that part yet.

And then there’s a snap.

And Emma’s falling.

It’s quick, really. She doesn’t have time to think or do anything, not that there would be anything for her to do, before every last breath is being shocked out of her as sharp icicles poke around her and everything goes black.

The water is freezing around her, and her lungs are like bricks inside of her, the heaviness of her dress weighing her down, and even though Emma knows that she needs to swim to the surface, the shock of it all is making it a little difficult. She can’t see or breathe or even think, and her legs are simply kicking while her arms are flailing in search of something, anything.

She is not going to drown in the ocean wearing some kind of medieval dress.

She is not going to leave Henry this way.

Henry.

Oh shit. That seems to knock a bit more sense into her, or at least some kind of panic, and her arms are even more frantic as she’s moves through the icy water, just trying to find air.

She needs air.

Suddenly, Emma feels hands on her arms, and there’s actual movement happening, her body feeling it as she moves in what direction she thinks is up, and then for the first time in what feels like hours, she can breathe.

And she can see.

“Swan,” a voice gasps out, and she blinks away the salty water to see Killian’s face directly in front of hers, his hair matted down against his forehead. “Swan? Are you okay? Emma? Emma, are you alright, love?”

“Cold,” she manages to gasp out, and he nods his head in response before they’re moving again.

Emma’s senses are beginning to come back, but her head is still foggy. One moment she’s drowning in the darkness and the next she’s being pulled onto soft sand, her clothes feeling too heavy for her body to hold up. There are so many noises, voices and screams and the damn music still playing over the speakers, and Emma can’t focus on any of it. It’s too much stimuli, too many distractions, and she barely even notices the fact that Killian rips off a few layers of her dress before hoisting her into his arms while murmuring words she can’t quite pick up or understand.

What is happening?

“Emma,” Killian repeats, and all the sudden she looks around and she’s inside of one of the offices near the front of the farms. “Emma, I really need you to look at me, okay?”

She blinks a few more times before turning away from looking at the office to looking at Killian. His eyes are so blue. How is that possible?

“Do you think you can strip out of these clothes yourself? Or do you need help? I can do it or we can wait for Mary Margaret to get here. She’s on her way.”

Those words snap Emma back into reality, and she can feel absolutely…everything. Her lungs are burning, her skin is like ice, and it hurts to breathe right now. She probably hasn’t stopped shivering in hours.

“I need…you’ve got to undo the corset, and then I can do it.”

Killian nods his head before walking around her, his fingers quickly undoing the corset until it’s no longer constricting her chest, and that makes her breathe the slightest bit more easily. When he’s finished, he tells her to undress and change into the clothes that are sitting on the chair in front of her while telling her that he’s going to step into the other room to do the same.

Why does Killian have to do the same?

Oh, right, because he was in the water with her. He pulled her out of it.

Laughter bubbles up within her belly, warming her, while she sheds the last of the wet clothes and picks up a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that have Storybrooke Haunted Farms written across them in this awful orange color. But it’s either freeze to death naked or put them on, so she puts them on with still shivering limbs and laughter still escaping her lips.

Her harness broke, and she fell into the freezing cold ocean.

Holy shit.

“Swan?” Killian asks as he steps back into the room wearing the same awful clothing that she’s wearing. “Why are you laughing?”

“Did I,” she starts, unable to finish. “Did I…did I…did I fall into the fucking ocean and have to be rescued while working at a fake haunted ship? Is that a real thing that just happened to me?”

“Aye,” he says a bit hesitantly before picking up a blanket and wrapping it around her while his hands rub up and down her shoulders. Holy shit that feels good. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Emma laughs, leaning forward to bury her face in Killian’s shoulder. He’s warm. How is he warm? He was in the water too. She knows that she didn’t hallucinate that. It was real. “No, I’m not okay. What even is happening? This is ridiculous, and I’m still not convinced that I’m not going to roll over in bed and wake up to find Henry having poured a bucket of ice down my back or something like that.”

Killian’s chest moves beneath hers, and she feels his hand shift from her arm to her back, quickly moving up and down over the blanket. It feels so good and warm, and she might stay like this forever.

“Is that something the lad would do?”

“No, not at all. He’s too good for that. It’s something I did as a kid, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I hated my foster dad one time, and he refused to turn the heat up to make it warmer in the rest of the house, so I poured a bucket of ice on his bed. I got reassigned to a different house two days later, but let me tell you, it was worth it.”

Killian laughs again, and she feels it underneath her cheek. “That sounds exactly like something you would do. My brother used to pull shit like that, too, to our dad. He was always getting onto me for misbehaving, but then he’d cut holes in the crotch of Dad’s trousers.”

“This the brother that went to the Police Academy with David?”

“One and the same.”

“Where does he live now? Is he moving here too?”

Killian’s hand stills against her back, just for a brief moment, before starting up again as Emma nuzzles her nose a little further into his t-shirt that smells like detergent. Later, Emma knows that she’ll regret holding onto him like this, but right now, all she cares about is the fact that she’s finally starting to feel warm.

“Liam was killed in the line of duty two years ago, so I don’t think he’ll be moving from his plot in Boston.”

Emotion burns in Emma’s throat, weighed down by everything else that’s happened tonight, and someone should probably take her to the hospital for lack of airflow. This can’t be healthy. “I’m sorry, Killian.”

“Don’t be. ‘Tis not your fault. It is why I moved here, though. Believe it or not, it wasn’t to push you off of a ship while people are chased around by zombies wielding paintball guns. It was somewhere with a familiar face without having to move back to England, where I haven’t actually lived since I was a teenager.”

Emma huffs into Killian’s neck before wrapping her arms around his waist and rubbing up and down his back in the same way that he’s doing now. She doesn’t like to think that she needs saving, and she usually doesn’t…but tonight she did, and the least she can do is help to warm him up in the same way that he’s doing to her.

“I moved from Boston too, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “That’s where…I met Henry’s dad the summer before my senior year of high school. He was older, cooler, you know? And I found out I was pregnant halfway through that year. It was…” She stops, not really wanting to get into all of it with this man she doesn’t really know as well as not wanting to relieve it for herself. “It wasn’t a good time, pretty much, and I needed someplace new. This town has pretty much been the only thing that’s kept me on my feet.”

“Technically, it knocked you right off of them tonight.”

It’s the perfect time to make a joke. Honestly and truly it is because Emma could already feel herself pulling away and becoming uncomfortable with where this conversation was heading. She doesn’t just tell people about Neal or being in foster homes or any of it, and here she is letting it all out to a man she told herself not to get close to.

It’s also the exact moment that Mary Margaret walks in followed by David, and she and Killian spring apart so that they’re no longer standing together. Mary Margaret worries over the two of them, talking far faster than usual and giving them both jackets and more blankets along with socks, all of them from the merchandising table, before David hands them cups of hot chocolate, which may be the best hot chocolate that Emma has ever had.

That’s saying a lot considering how Emma is with her hot chocolate.

Things are overwhelming and wild as David explains the mechanics behind her harness snapping, and as quickly as David and Mary Margaret come in to check on the two of them, they’re having to leave to go check on the crises that are happening around town, and she’s left sitting in an office, still shivering the slightest bit, wondering where the hell does she go from here.

The answer to that question is apparently nowhere. She and Killian get sent home that night with instructions to come back in the morning for new assignments and to fill out some paperwork over the incident. They’re having to alter the performance that happens down at the ship, apparently, and while Emma expects to simply have her role slightly change, she ends up getting assigned to the hayride path with Killian. It’s a little sad to have to do this halfway through the month, but at least now she can wear jeans and flannel and hide her hair under a terrifying mask instead of having to have it teased every day.

And she won’t be falling into icy cold waters either. That’s definitely a plus.

Killian takes to scaring people on the hayride like a champ. He easily manages to jump up onto the trailer, oftentimes without anyone noticing, before screaming bloody murder and making everyone else do the same. One time, he manages to sit down between two couples without them noticing because they’re too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats, and the way they jump when Killian claps his hands together makes Emma jump off of the trailer and stumble back into the woods so that she can laugh without breaking character.

What she would give to have their faces on camera.

Things…shift in a way once they start working on the hayride instead of the ship. Emma had seen Killian’s good side before, had acknowledged it if even only to herself, but she still rejected it in a way. She didn’t want to see him as anything other than a cocky asshole who was using being nice to Henry to get into her pants, so Emma didn’t let her perception of him change.

Not until now.

Killian’s still a cocky asshole, but Emma’s starting to understand that the innuendos and his flirting might be a defense system. There’s something underneath the smirks and moving eyebrows, and while Emma doesn’t necessarily want to find out what it all is, she wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.

And he really is good with Henry, which Emma actually appreciates.

Apparently, when Killian isn’t scaring people for money, he works at Henry’s school as a receptionist for the front office as some kind of temp job, something no one seemed to deem important enough to tell her. Emma only found out when she called up to check Henry out to take him to a dentist appointment and she heard a familiar voice on the phone.

And now, somehow, he’s sitting across from her on a park picnic table as Henry climbs up and down the playground, his movement only slightly stilted by the giant puffer jacket that Emma has on him. She has no idea how Killian was out here running with only a thin pullover on.

“So, is he still going to be a pirate for Halloween tomorrow, or has that changed now that his mum has gotten pushed off a pirate ship and shunned to the hayride? I guess he could be a scarecrow, but I’m pretty sure six-year-olds aren’t into that.”

“No,” Emma sighs as Killian moves across the monkey bars and Emma braces herself for disaster, “I don’t think he would be. He’s got the pirate costume and still wants to do that. I’ve had to keep him from wearing it around the house so that he doesn’t mess it up before tomorrow.”

Killian raises his brow. “How exactly are you going to take him trick or treating when we have work? Isn’t that something that happens once the sun has set?”

“He’s six. we go in the middle of the afternoon, and then I drop him off to stay with Granny for the night. It’s not the best situation, but it’s what works for us.”

“You’re a good mum, Swan.” Emma feels hear rise in her cheeks, and she reaches up to brush her hair behind her ears. “With a good kid.”

“Yeah, he is pretty great, isn’t he?”

“Mom,” Henry shouts as he jumps down from the playground and runs toward the two of them, his cheeks flushed and hair pushed back off of his forehead, “I have an idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nods his head, bright smile on his face, before stepping closer to her and cupping his hands around his mouth up against her ears. “Killian should come trick or treating with us tomorrow, and you can give him some candy to tell him that you like him.”

Emma nearly falls off the bench, and her heart takes off like a freaking rocket. For one, Henry just said that loud enough for everyone in Storybrooke to hear, but mostly, he just said that so that Killian could hear.

But also, why in the world does Henry think that she likes Killian? Where the hell did he get that idea.

Hesitantly, Emma looks over to Killian to see that he’s on his phone, very obviously faking texting someone, and as much as she appreciates it, there’s no getting around the fact that he heard Henry say that she likes him.

Which she doesn’t.

Not at all.

That would be ridiculous. And dumb. And a horrible, horrible idea.

But he is a very pretty man on, like, a vain level, and Emma will admit that she can sometimes be a little bit into vanity. And he is good at banter and flirting and making her laugh and causing a smile to curl onto her lips. Maybe, just maybe, there might be butterflies the flutter around in her stomach, but Emma has very adamantly been chalking that up to the fact that her eating hasn’t been the most healthy lately.

No, she doesn’t like him. That’s not a thing that happens.

Except maybe it is because she does get excited to go to work, possibly a little bit more than usual, and there are times when she purposefully makes sure that she inches a little bit closer to him so that they have to talk.

Oh shit, her six-year-old just had an emotional revelation for her, and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Feelings are not her strong suit.

And neither is dating a man who her son is attached to. That’s just…what happens when he leaves? They always leave, and while Henry hasn’t known Killian for that long, she just knows him not showing up anymore would upset him.

But Killian wouldn’t do that, right?

“You know what, Henry,” Emma starts slowly, her voice cracking a little bit, “you have to ask Killian if he wants to come with us, okay? He might be busy.”

“Okay,” Henry whisper-shouts back at her before walking across the table and whisper-shouting into Killian’s ear as well. “Will you come trick or treating with us tomorrow and let my mom give you candy because she likes you?”

Emma groans and lets her head fall to the picnic bench, not caring about the weird stickiness that’s left there. Anything could be better than this.

“Yeah, lad,” Killian chuckles, and Emma peeks up to see Killian winking at her, “I think I can do both of those things.”

Killian shows up at her apartment the next day wearing his full-pirate garb, eyeliner and fake jewelry included, and it goes along perfectly with Henry’s costume as well as the costume she’s wearing. It’s not the bar wench one because that is in a trashcan somewhere, but it is the one that includes pants and these really cool boots and a vest that she’d probably like to wear on days that it’s not Halloween. Emma ignores the fact that they look like a family, especially when at least ten different people comment about how cute they all are, because this is about Henry and his happiness. This isn’t about the battle that’s been happening in her mind for the last thirty-six hours.

There is absolutely no reason for her to be able to have good things like this. She’s a screw up foster kid who has never had anyone love her the way that she thinks she’s supposed to be love, but she has this kid who, even on his worst days, she would do absolutely anything for. He came from such a dark place in her life, one that she didn’t think she could get out of, but here she is in a town that supports the both of them.

With someone who has spent the past hour talking in a strange accent to indulge Henry and make him laugh while they stuff their face with more candy than Emma would usually allow.

Today is a good day.

And it continues that way when she drops Henry off with Granny so that she and Killian can go to work, the two of them changing out of their pirate garb and back into comfortable jeans and flannel with the ridiculous masks that they’ve been changing up every day. It’s one last day, one last night, and Emma can’t wait to share the shit out of some people.

-/-

“Did you see her face?” Killian chuckles as they walk through the woods back to the clearing behind the front office building. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone be so terrified by a clown mask.”

“Clowns are creepy. That’s why they make horror films about them.”

“Aye, I know, but you have to admit that the woman’s face was priceless.”

Emma bumps her shoulder into Killian’s, and he looks down at her to smile, the moon reflecting off of half of his face. Those damn butterflies are not moving around in her stomach at the sight of his smile. Nope. Not at all.

“It was,” she admits as a few hundred people come into view, all of the employees over the past month gathering together for the wrap party that Mary Margaret and David throw for everyone full of drinks and junk food and all of the Halloween candy in the world. “That’s what will have to carry me over until next year.”

“Good. You want to grab some pizza and a few beers and go hit the hay?”

“You want to go to sleep?”

“No, Swan,” he laughs as his hand comes up to wrap around her shoulder, “not quite yet. I meant we can go sit in the trailer of the hayride. No one seems to have occupied it.”

Emma’s eyes glance over to where the trailer is parked, and it is, indeed, empty. “Yeah, I think that would be okay.”

They load up on food and drinks, carefully balancing them in their hands, before walking over to the trailer and easily climbing up onto the trailer, settling down into the middle and placing their plates of food up onto the haybales. She’s probably going to have hay stuck in her clothes and her hair for the next week and a half, but it might almost be worth it.

The pizza and beer are cheap, but after hours of running around, that doesn’t matter to Emma at all. Besides, the conversation is good, Killian telling her about his adventures in interviewing with Leroy to see if he can get a job on his construction crew since that’s apparently what he did back in Boston after he left the Navy earlier than planned due to Liam’s death.

There’s so much that she doesn’t know about him, that she can’t know after only knowing him for a month and a half and only tolerating him for a little less than that, but maybe Henry was right in his assumption that she might just like the guy who pushed her off a ship and almost caused her to accidentally drown.

Something she likes to remind him quite frequently only for him to remind her that it wasn’t his fault and that he did save her.

They can agree to disagree.

(They’re both technically right.)

A sharp wind comes moves through the woods, and a shiver runs down Emma’s spine so that she has to tighten her coat around her a little bit more. She needs a beanie, pretty much desperately, but there’s not a lot she can do about any of that right now. She’s been colder than this before. She’ll last.

And it’s such a nice night with the stars up in the sky and the moon shining overhead, no deadlines or schedules looming over her for at least a few days, and all Emma can do is relax in it, leaning back into Killian’s shoulder and sighing in relief.

He taps his foot against hers then, and Emma ignores it. But then he does it again and again and again until she looks over at him to see him holding a Kit Kar bar in between his fingers.

“What?” Emma groans. “Why are you being so annoying?”

His eyelashes flutter down then, just for a moment, before he’s looking up at her with a soft smile that she’s only seen from him a few times before. “I want to give you this piece of candy.”

“Um, why?”

His eyes roll, and Emma doesn’t know what to think of it because there’s really no reason for him to be so exasperated. “Your son, brilliant lad that he is, told me that if I like you, I should give you some candy. This is me giving you candy.”

Oh.

Emma’s heart stutters. Actually, it probably completely stops. She’s having a hard time knowing exactly what’s going on when her head is a mess, a mix of alcohol and confusing feelings and a little bit of being terrified of making the wrong mood, but Killian most definitely just took dating advice from a six-year-old and told her that he has feelings for her.

She’s really not ready for Henry to start dating if he’s going to be able to do things like this.

With a small, trembling smile on her face, Emma turns around and finds a red Starburst on her plate and reaches over to hand it to Killian, whose smile stretches up to his eyes now. “Okay, but just so you know, this candy is going to come with some stipulations, okay?”

“Like what, Swan?” Killian asks even as the rough pads of his fingers come to cup her cheek, pulling her closer to him so that their mouths are so close that she can’t tell whose breath is whose as it comes out in white puffs of air. “Because if it’s about Henry, he’s already given me a stern talking to about how I’m only allowed to make you happy and not sad like his dad did.”

“Did he really?”

“Aye, love, he did. And I understand that there will be boundaries and limitations and that Henry comes first. I want him to come first, always. I just – ”

Emma doesn’t let him finish before she’s pressing forward and gliding her lips over his and wrapping her arms around his neck in one swift moment. They’re both still at first, and Emma takes in the fact that his cold lips taste like pizza, beer, and chocolate. It’s not the best combination in the world taste-wise, but it is pretty good in general. So is the kiss when Killian starts moving his lips against hers, tugging her closer with his hand and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss, mouths quickly opening and tongues lightly swirling together in a slick, wet slide.

She’s had first kisses before, more than she’d care to admit, and as absolutely magnificent as a lot of them were, Emma doesn’t think her heart has ever felt quite this way – like a mix of happiness and magic and a little bit of Halloween spirit.

It is the best holiday of the year, after all. She can be whoever she wants.

Right now, though, she doesn’t want to be anyone other than Emma Swan or be anywhere other than in this moment.

-/-

They don’t tell Henry that they’re dating for four more months. It’s hard to keep from him, honestly, but Emma knows that it’s for the best. Things could still go wrong, her fears are still valid, and Henry is easy to accept the fact that Killian sometimes spends a little bit more time with them than usual. But still as his mom’s friend.

It’s pretty easy for Henry to accept when Killian makes the transition from friend to boyfriend.

Even easier when he goes from his mom’s boyfriend to his step-father. It makes picking out family costumes for Halloween even easier.

(Emma is ignoring that Henry will eventually grow out of liking doing that.)

Killian gives her a piece of candy every day to make sure that Emma knows that he has feelings for her.

She’s got a pretty good idea.

#Storybrooke haunted farms #cs hallloweek #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #Captain Swan #captain cobra

137 notes · View notes

7-wonders · 5 years

Text

As Above, So Below Ch. 18

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3976

A/N: You know the drill! If you enjoyed this, I would love if you left a comment or an ask. Feedback is always appreciated, like and reblog if you liked reading this. Thanks so much for supporting my little passion project!

The fire in Michael’s room is already roaring by the time he returns with you tucked safely in his arms, a sure sign that everyone in the Underworld knows about what had happened on that frozen lake of the damned. He gently sets you on the chest at the foot of his bed, darting back and forth as he attempts to find the needed supplies. Shivers wrack through you, your body already missing the heat that Michael provides you. A pile of blankets sits waiting on top of the bed, and Michael finally returns from his office with a knife.

“Gonna put me out of my misery?” You struggle to say the joke, teeth chattering hard enough to make you mildly concerned that one will crack. Michael smiles thinly, a sign that he’s trying not to make his anxiety visible.

“No, but I do need to get you out of your wet clothes, and there’s too many layers to worry about taking them off one at a time.” You nod, dipping your head slightly to allow Michael to remove your crown from your wet strands of hair.

“Why is it that I always seem to get into trouble when I’m wearing a beautiful dress?” You ponder, lamenting the loss of the masterpiece of a dress that Michael is carefully slicing off of your body.

“I’d much rather we lose the dress than lose you,” Michel mutters, tongue poking out in concentration as he works the blade through your corset. “Stand up, please.”

It takes a little effort, your legs wobbling and Michael having to support you while he also removes your now-ruined dress from your body. You’re left standing in just your undergarments, Michael holding your hands so that you can step out of them. Despite the freezing cold that has replaced the blood running through your veins, you still feel your cheeks heating up at being naked in front of Michael. It’s not like he’s never seen you naked before, but it’s still something that’s very intimate to you. Michael, however, shows no sign of being phased by your lack of clothes. He barely even glances at your body, instead walking you over to sit on the bed and starting to wrap you up in blankets. He’s dedicated in completing the task, using each and every blanket until only your face is poking through the nest that now surrounds you.

“Why can’t I just take a bath or something? I’m still wet,” you point out, nose wrinkling as your hair starts to leak through onto the blankets.

“If I warm you up too fast, it could be dangerous to your health.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t know much about mortal ailments.”

“When you’ve lived for as long as I have, you tend to pick up a few things.” You raise an eyebrow when Michael starts to strip, ending up in the same state as you.

“Um, can I ask why you’re also taking your clothes off?” You’re determined to keep your eyes on his face and not on his sculpted body.

“Body heat is also a good way to warm someone up when they’re getting hypothermic.”

Michael slides under the covers next to you, pulling your blanket-wrapped self up against him. Even under the mountain of blankets, his warmth still radiates through to you. He hums quietly, your head feeling like it’s being rifled through in what you assume is Michael absentmindedly listening to your thoughts. You want to scold him, but you know that he likely doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s a bad habit, he’s explained to you before, and he always feels really bad whenever he finally catches on that the thoughts are not his.

“I always thought you would be really cold,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering as you stare at the fire. “Imagine my surprise when I learned you’re actually a space heater.”

“Why did you assume that I would be cold?”

“The whole ‘God of the Dead’ thing. Dead people are pretty cold, so I thought you’d be the same way,” you speak through a yawn, the silence of the room and Michael’s steady breathing starting to lull you to sleep.

“Isn’t there a saying? ‘The warmer you are, the closer to Hell you are,’ or something like that?” You’re not looking at him, but you can still see the cheeky smirk he must have on his face.

“It’s about being short, not being warm.” Michael revels in your response, gently shaking you when he can sense that you’re about to fall asleep. “What the hell, Michael?”

He ignores the opportunity to make a joke. “I don’t want you to sleep until I know that your temperature is back where it’s supposed to be.”

“Damn you and your common sense.”

Without your knowledge, Michael summons a member of the staff. Cassius, the demon who had agreed to sacrifice his very existence for the sake of defeating Satan, appears. Cassius looks at Michael, as if to make sure it’s okay for him to use his powers. When Michael nods, the demon takes a very cautious glance at Michael’s thoughts to determine what he needs without either of them alerting you of his presence. The smaller man with horns and fangs disappears before returning with a small tray of what Michael had requested. Michael nods, both to thank and dismiss his loyal subject; black eyes dart to you before he transmutes out of the room.

“Are you feeling up to drinking some tea, darling mine? I would think its warmth would help to warm you up.”

“How did…” you turn your head, looking over at the tray that just seems to have magically appeared in the room. “You and your damn demon posse.”

“Here, drink.” Michael brings the steaming cup to your lips, waiting patiently until you begrudgingly start to drink it.

“You know, I can hold it myself.”

“(Y/N),” Michael says in exasperation, “I almost lost you today, for the second time. Please, just this once, let me take care of you.”

His words have you stunned into silence, and you finally nod in agreement. “Okay,” you say quietly, at a loss for words at how much this has affected him.

“I apologize for snapping at you, but you must understand how I felt when I saw the ice starting to break under your feet. Watching you fall into the lake, and being rendered helpless to rescue you, was the epitome of my worst nightmare. I have never felt fear quite like I did when I was attempting to spot you through the ice. I thought that--that you would be swept away, and lost forever. I had just gotten you back, and then it seemed like I was going to lose you all over again.”

“You were the only thing I could think of when I realized that I wouldn’t be able to find the surface,” you admit. “Out of all of the possible thoughts that could be my last, I was worried about how you were going to fare when I died.”

“I would have been a complete and utter mess.” When Michael’s satisfied with the amount of tea that you’ve drank, he sets the cup down and picks up a thermometer. “How does this thing work?”

You take it from him, swiftly uncapping it and positioning it under your tongue. The cool metal fills you with nostalgia, reminding you of trips to the nurse’s office throughout your years in school. Whether you were sick or not, that thermometer would always be a guarantee for any need, even one as simple as obtaining a painkiller. Michael’s silent while you wait for the device to beep, and you idly play with the rings that still decorate his long fingers. A shrill beep pierces the air, and Michael stares at the thermometer like it’s a foreign object.

“What’s a normal body temperature for a human?” Stifling a giggle, you read the numbers on the LED screen before putting it back on the tray it appeared on.

“Ninety eight point six-ish?”

“So is it bad that yours is ninety three?”

“Not good, but not bad. It means I’m recovering. Considering you had to revive me, it could be a lot worse.” Michael groans, pulling you closer into his arms as if to remind himself that his resuscitation efforts actually worked.

“Please don’t remind me about that.” The cheeky smile on your face falls when you hear his strangled voice. Turning your head in his grasp, you see that his eyes are shut tightly while he attempts to prevent any tears from escaping.

“Hey,” your voice grows soft as you disentangle one of your hands from the nest of blankets, using it to stroke Michael’s cheek, “stop thinking about it. I’m right here, in front of you. I’m warm...er than I was, and I’m alive and recovering and safe in your arms.”

“But you weren’t...I saw you dead…” he mutters, lost in the events that preceded your current situation.

“Michael,” you wait for him to look at you before speaking. “Look at me. What happened was not your fault.”

“It was all my fault, (Y/N). I’m the reason there’s a prophecy in the first place, and the reason why you’re stuck here. You almost died--no, you did die, all because I put you in the middle of my battle with my father.”

“Stop talking like that, or else I’ll get Madison to hold me,” you threaten sternly. “Every action has been my choice. I chose to complete the Seven Wonders and come back here, I chose to tell you that I love you, I chose to be a part of the plan that I came up with. Do not, for a single second, blame yourself for anything. I am an adult who is capable of making my own choices, which I did.”

Michael listens silently, mulling over your words as he kisses the top of your head. “I’ve never been more proud of anyone than I was of you today.”

“Lying to make me feel better.”

“No!” Michael insists, moving the blanket away from your face so he can actually see your facial features. “Not only did you handle the burden of a coronation, however fake it may have been, with dignity and grace, but you also managed to be a total...what’s the word?” He trails off, brows furrowing as he attempts to figure out what he wants to say.

“Badass?” You fill in with the only word that pops to mind.

“Yes! I don’t really know what it means, but you say it a lot and it seems to describe how you were when distracting my father.” His cheeks color a tantalizing shade of red, and you can’t help the urge to lean over and plant featherlight kisses on them.

“While I appreciate that, Michael, I highly doubt it was anything too extraordinary.”

“You undervalue yourself far too often, my love. If I ever get lucky enough for you to accept my offer, you will most certainly be the best queen the Underworld could ever have. You’re kind, and brilliant, and selfless in ways that I could never be.”

Michael, sensing your hesitation at how best to respond, places the back of his hand on your forehead.

“You seem to be warming up. Are you still feeling up for a bath?”

“A bath sounds nice.” Michael stands, and you can’t help but to admire the firmness of his ass before your eyes fly up to his face in embarrassment.

“I’ll be only a moment,” he promises. When the bathroom door closes behind him, the wistful smile on your face remains just as prevalent.

/////////////////////////////

“You’re doing much better than you were, I presume?” The garden (your garden, you suppose) that you’re sitting in is bathed in warm sunlight, courtesy of Michael giving in to your pleas to have just a couple hours of sunlight at the castle every once in a while. You tap your foot against the ground nervously, being gentle not to nudge a sleeping Cerberus and smiling politely as you sit across a small table from the Queen of the Gods herself. Violet’s dressed in what you believe is her version of casual; a beige dress that falls to her knees, accompanied by a large red cardigan.

When you woke in the morning after falling asleep in Michael’s arms, hair still wet from the warm bath, an ornately sealed letter sat on the dresser. Olympus, Michael read out loud, had learned of what had happened on Cocytus. An emergency council was to be held between the trio of main gods, with the meeting taking place in the Underworld in order to give Zeus and Poseidon the opportunity to inspect the locale where Satan was now entombed. To everyone’s surprise, Michael’s beloved sister made the trip as well, with the specific request of speaking to you privately. Needless to say, nervous would be an understatement as to how you’re feeling.

“I am, thank you. It was...frightening, to wake up on the ice and not have any clue what was happening, but I knew I was in good hands.”

“Knowing Michael, he would have personally found a way to reverse time if he hadn’t been able to bring you back to life,” Violet sips delicately at her tea. “What is it like?”

“What is what like?” You question, cocking your head slightly.

“To die, not only once, but twice?”

“Four times, technically.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, when my body was shutting down because of the ‘nothing living can survive in the Underworld’ prophecy, my heart stopped twice once I was admitted to a hospital Above.”

Violet stares at you for a long moment, a slow smile spreading across her face. “A true warrior, then. So tell me, (Y/N), how does one feel after dying and being brought back to life multiple times?”

“I’m not the same person that I was when I was first brought here, that’s for sure,” a dry chuckle accompanies your statement as you shake your head, staring down at the milky surface of your beverage. “I don’t think that you get to die and come back the exact same as you were. You come back...wrong, in a way. Like there’s a part of you missing, or a part of you that’s changed. Maybe your soul splits into a thousand little pieces when you die, and a few of those pieces don’t get the memo that they’re supposed to return to your body. We are all, after all, made up of stardust. Our souls must, in theory, return to the stars when we die, and the most rebellious parts of it refuse to come back down on the occasion that a person is brought back to life.”

“So you believe all creatures are celestial beings?”

“With all due respect, I don’t mean to get into a theological debate.”

“No, please, I’m intrigued. I would appreciate it if you continued.” She waves her small hand in the air, signalling you to continue.

“It’s a fact that, no matter what created the universe, parts of the universe are embedded in each and every one of us. Iron, one of the most abundant metals, can only be created in the depths of a dying star. We’re not celestial beings, in that we’re not heavenly bodies or something that’s not of the world that we, as mortals, know. However, we’re celestial beings because we’re literally composed of bits of the very fabric of the universe itself.”

For all of the talking that Michael does, Violet is the opposite. Whereas Michael would have interjected to provide his own viewpoint on whatever matter he agrees or disagrees with, Violet waits until you’ve reached the conclusion of your statement before forming her own response. The differences between them are stark, but the more time you spend with Violet, the more you notice mannerisms and characteristics that remind you of the man that is now your lover. When he smiles his genuine smile, he looks just like his sister. Their eyes both contain that same twinkle of mischief, and they share the same biting wit.

“You are quite the introspective soul, (Y/N). I pity what we may have lost had death decided to fully claim you.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

“Please, after yesterday’s events, I believe we are far past the stage of formalities.” Your eyes widen as you understand the hidden meaning in her words.

“It wasn’t a real coronation, it was just a ruse to lure Satan to us,” you explain hurriedly.

“I’m aware. Very clever, might I add. But,” her kind eyes pierce through you, to the depths of your soul, “I know there was an ulterior motive to you undertaking the tests of the Seven Wonders.”

“I wasn’t about to let the end of the world be solely my fault.”

“Admirable, of course. However, you seem to be under the impression that my dear brother does not choose to share anything that he deems to be important with me.” Your expression sours with the realization that Michael writes to his sister about his (and presumably your) love life. “You have both professed your love for each other, then?”

“I mean, yeah, but it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“For starters, the fact that completing the Seven Wonders only buys me some time. I’m still very human, and I’m going to have to leave here before my body starts trying to kill me for being in the Underworld again.”

“How are you to be queen, then?”

“I’m not--I’m not sure if I’m ready to be queen, or even if I want to be queen.” You absentmindedly pet one of Cerberus’s heads, a foolproof way to help calm your rising nerves.

“What is holding you back?” You’re reminded how much of a child you truly are in the eyes of this millenia-old goddess as you avoid making eye contact and give Violet a half-hearted shrug.

“I don’t want to leave Above for the rest of time. I like being human, no matter how much I complain about it.”

“You enjoy the sorrows of a mortal life? War, famine, poverty, tragedy, sickness, and all of the other terrible occurrences that would be avoided were you to become Michael’s queen?”

“Are there not versions of suffering that the gods experience as well? I’ve learned quite a bit about all of the different wars that have been fought, either directly or indirectly by Olympians. There may not be poverty in the traditional sense, but you can be lacking in a lot of different areas. Surely, you must also feel terrible when tragedies hit mankind? I mean, Michael literally kidnapped me so that he could stop the apocalypse.

“Yes, there are bad parts to humanity, but there’s bad parts of every species. I like getting to see the comradery that happens in times of turmoil, and the activism that my generation is using to make legitimate changes in society. It’s the little things, as well, that make being human worth it. Long car drives with no set destination in mind and the music blasting, street festivals, eating ice cream on a hot summer night, watching the leaves change, the holiday season. Getting excited over a new movie coming out, re-reading a favorite book, the families that we create, hobbies that get us through a long week. To you, these may seem dumb and miniscule. To me, however, it’s what makes life worth living. I don’t want to lose that.”

Violet sits in silence, wrapped up in her mind as she thinks over what you’ve just said. You tap your fingers against the edge of the table, looking anywhere and everywhere in an attempt to not lose your mind at the thought of possibly upsetting a goddess. Maybe your little speech was too impassioned? It’s not that she offended you, but her seeming aversion to the human race was enough to send you rushing to defend your fellow humans.

“You and Michael are the definition of a juxtaposition,” she finally speaks, allowing you to let out a breath that you weren’t aware you were holding.

“Um, I don’t really see what that has to do with my defense of humanity?”

“Where Michael is dark, you are light. You smooth out his rough edges, while making him whole again at the same time. He’s rooted in reality and cynical, but you allow him to see the more fantastical, rose-tinted side of things. Yin and yang, I believe it is called?” You nod silently, letting her know she’s got it right.

“It’s nice to know that we complement each other so well, but that still doesn’t solve my dilemma.”

Violet’s pale hand is suddenly on top of yours, making you freeze in your spot. Smiling kindly in an effort to soothe the sudden rush of panic seizing your body, she stands from the table and pulls you up with her. Cerberus’s heads perk up, but he quickly dozes back off when he realizes there’s no danger. She clasps her hands in yours and, although she’s smaller than you, you feel shorter than her in this moment.

“Talk to him. Let him know that you want to be his queen, but without sacrificing your humanity in the process. Trust me, if he loves you half as much as he claims in his letters, he will find a way to make you happy. Communication is the key to a healthy relationship; that is something that I wish Tate and I knew much earlier in our time together.”

As is your signature move when faced with a rush of emotion that you don’t know how to translate into words, you wrap Violet in a hug. She seems much more familiar with the expression than Michael, returning your gesture happily.

“Thank you,” you mutter against her shoulder.

“Of course. If I am to have a ‘sister-in-law,’ as you mortals call it,” she teases, “I could not hope for a better one than you.”

“Violet!” Tate’s voice booms through the garden, alerting you both that the rendezvous is now over. “Violet, we need to be leaving soon.”

“It appears as though that is my cue,” she laments. “Do you promise that you will talk to him?”

“I will,” you nod.

“Good. Send me a letter and let me know how it goes; Hermes makes the trip from Olympus to the Underworld, and back again, daily. Give it to him and he shall know what to do with it.”

Violet kisses both of your cheeks before turning to walk through the garden and find her husband. Once they’ve both disappeared into the palace, you set off on a renewed quest to find Michael. He’s not in the throne room, nor is he in his office, which only leaves one other place that you know he frequents: the library. The library in which, arguably, you allowed your walls to come down and let Michael wedge his way into your heart.

He’s sitting on the bottom of one of the winding staircases that lead to ancient Greek texts, pensieve as he thinks about the meeting that has just transpired with the gods that are his equals. When you call his name, he tilts his head up, standing to greet you. His hands are clasped behind his back, and a smile lights up his face. It’s ironic, you note, how much the God of the Dead smiles when in your presence.

“What is it, (Y/N)? Did something happen?” Michael asks. You shake your head, taking his hands in yours in a gesture reminiscent of Violet’s, mere minutes ago.

“No. Michael, I’ve made up my mind.”

“About?”

“I want to rule beside you. I want to be your queen.”

///////////////////

Tag List: @brieababy @ladyrindt @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @lichellaw @sebastianshoe @pastel-cloudz @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @dolceandchalamet @everything-is-awesomesauce @langdonslove @ccodyfern @consultingsnowqueen @readsalot73 @jimmlangdon @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @hplotrfan @omg-hellgirl @gallxntdean @storminmytwistedmind @venusxxlangdon @langdonsdemon @kahhlo @americanhorrorstudies @antichristwrites @xxxmaterialistc @forgetting5sos @divinelangdon @sadsadiesworld @born-on-stgeorges-day @hecohansen31 @michaelsapostle @izuniias @grippleback-galaxy

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagines #AHS #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon au #hades and persephone au

173 notes · View notes

thatlaughingbat · 4 years

Text

The Life of Liz - Chapter 1 Part 1

"Jack, the boat!"

He looks down and sees the water slowly filling from what I assume is the hull.

"Ugh." He grunts and slides down from the rope next to him. "Bucket." He holds out his hands. I grab the wooden bucket and toss it to him. Jack starts scooping the water into the bucket and back into the ocean. The water just returns to the boat. "Do you not have the ability to help, darling?" Jack asks softly. Not as he's demanding me to help.

"Did you completely forget the fact that once I touch this, I won't be able to stand?" I respond. I gesture down to my legs.

"Ah." He smirks and nods.

"It's not working," I say, "but we're near land. Let it sink." He looks up behind me and stands. I feel a dark presence behind me. Death. I turn quickly and see skeletons being hung. Three of us. They're pirates.

Jack takes off his hat in respect. I salute and turn to the land. Port Royal, I assume. There's no way this boat is going to make it in time.

Jack grabs the rope and pulls himself back up to the top. He mumbles something I couldn't make out and wraps his arm around my torso. The wind travels through my hair. I wrap my arm around his neck to keep myself steady. The ship slowly sinks as we reach the dock.

Many children are working on the docks. Slaves maybe. They could be children of the other workers though.

Jack lets me down on the end of the dock, him following. I smile and grab his hand as we start walking. We walk past the dock keeper and a child, ignoring them. Until...

"Hold up there you two!" The man says. We turn and look at the man. He is well dressed but still dirty. He is holding a book. "It's a shilling to tie up your boat to the dock."

I look at the "boat". It's nothing but the top of the sail poking out. Unnecessary payment in my opinion.

"And I sure need to know your names."

Jack pulls three small coins from his pocket and lays it on top of the book. "What do you say to three shillings and we forget the names?" He says. The man looks at the child and back to us.

"Welcome to Port Royal, Mr. and Mrs. Smith." He says, closing the book. I sigh in relief and nod at the man. Jack clasps his hands together as a thank you. I turn and finally take in the smell. I expected it to be a bit less salty. But the air was salty and sour. It felt like I was taking my last breath every time I breathe.

Jack finds a small coin bag on the podium. He grabs it and shakes it. Seems at least 5 shillings in there. It could be useful so he takes it.

Then, we continue walking. There's a lot of people around us but they are too busy working to notice us. Jack stops. He nods his head to a large ship. A ship I've seen before. The Interceptor.

"That one?" I ask.

"It's big and it's fast. That's all we need, love." He responds. I nod and follow him to the ship.

When we reach it, there are two English guards. We try and walk past them, but they walk right in front of us.

"This dock is off-limits to civilians." One of the guards says. His voice sounds a bit shaky like this is his first time guarding.

"I'm terribly sorry. I didn't know," Jack says. "if I see one, I shall inform you immediately." He grabs my hand again and tries to walk past them but they block us again.

"Apparently there's some high-toned and fancy to-do at the fort, eh?" Jack asks.

"Shame you didn't get an invitation. Such pleasant men like yourself should have been at least asked." I shrug. The other guard glares at the other.

"Someone has to make sure this dock stays off-limits to civilians." One of the guards says confidently.

"And it's a fine goal to be sure, but it seems to me, a ship like that," Jack moves to the side and points to the Dauntless ship from afar, "makes this one here a bit superfluous, really." The two guards turn to look at the Dauntless.

"The Dauntless is the power in these waters, true enough," The same guard replies, "but no ship can match the Interceptor for speed." I laugh softly. Funny.

"I've heard of one," Jack says. "It's supposed to be fast, nigh uncatchable." He looks to me and smiles.

"The Black Pearl." We say together. The other guard laughs at our response. I tilt my head to the side.

"There's no real ship as can match the Interceptor." The other guard says in defense.

"Black Pearl is a real ship." The first guard replies. I roll my eyes and lay my head against Jack's arm. Something tells me this bickering is going to go on longer than I want it to.

As they continue bickering, Jack and I slip away while they're distracted. We walk over to the ship and climb onto the deck.

It has a reddish-brown wood on the floors balancing out with the navy and yellow lining the outside of the ship. It's beautiful. Jack walks up to the wheel and drags his hand across it.

"How's this one?" I smile.

He laughs. "Perfect-"

"Hey! You two!" The guards yell. They run towards us and point their guns at our stomachs. "You don't have permission to be aboard there, mates."

"I'm sorry. It's just... it's such a pretty boat." I elbow him. "Ship!"

"I agree. What is this, mahogany?" I tease and lean on the wheel.

"What're your names?" The guard asks. I clear my throat.

"Smith. Or... Smithy, if you like." He says. I'd laugh softly and nod.

"What's your purpose in Port Royal, Mr. and Mrs. Smith?" The guard asks smugly.

"And no lies."

Jack sighs and walks towards them.

"All right, then. I confess." He starts. "It is my intention to commandeer a ship, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid pillage plunder, and pilfer my black guts out." I didn't expect him to say it. I mean, it does sound kind of insane now that I am thinking about it.

"I said no lies!" The guard says.

"He's not lying," I mumble.

"I think he's tellin' the truth." The other guard responds. Jack holds onto the rope and smiles.

"If he were telling the truth he wouldn't have told us." The guard says.

"Unless of course, he knew you wouldn't believe the truth even if he told it to you," Jack says a matter of factly. I smile. I've always admired his intelligence. Not a lot of people notice it.

We sit down and Jack starts to get the guards to soften up to us. He starts explaining crazy stories of ours because he knows they wouldn't believe him.

I hear a splash from afar. I turn to see a girl floating deep into the water. About my age. Maybe younger. I stand immediately and run to the edge of the ship.

"Will you be saving her, then?" Jack asks.

"I can't swim!" The guard says. Jack turns to me and nods.

"Pride of the king's navy, you are!" He takes his hat off and starts giving them his weapons to keep them safe. I sigh and pull my overshirt off to reveal a shorter top. The guards look at me with wide eyes.

"What? I got a hickey or something?" I ask. They shake their heads. I drop my weapons and jump onto the ledge.

"Do not lose these," Jack says. We dive into the water and towards the girl. There was extreme pain in my legs. I grunt softly and bite my lip so I didn't let out an ear-piercing scream. Grey travels from my forehead to my now connected legs as my hair turns a dark black.

Suddenly, I feel a vibration throughout the water. It pushes me back a little bit. Jack grabs the girl and swims to the surface. I try and see if I can get her to breathe again, but I'm behind blocked by something.

"The dress," I say. Jack sinks underwater and rips the dress off of her. I shake my head. "Something's still blocking it. Bring her to the surface." I say. He nods and guides the girl's body to the dock close to us.

I grab the edge of the dock and lift my legs and the rest of my body to the bottom of the wood so I'm fully outside of the water. The opposite of my transition from before occurs with my regular state back to normal. My muscles clench as I flip from the bottom to the top of the dock.

Jack follows, but goes the easy way and just climbs up normally. He lays the girl's body on the dock.

"The corset." I place my hand on her throat. Jack grabs his knife and slices the corset open. I allow air into her system again.

She wakes up coughing up the water and gasping for air.

"What's.." I say. Jack has already finished my sentence and picks up the gold pendant necklace around her neck. The Aztec gold medallion. The cursed Aztec gold medallion.

"Where did you get that?" Jack asks. Suddenly, we hear footsteps.

I look up to see a sword to my face and Jack's face.

"On your feet." The new commodore says. I stand and interlock my fingers with Jack's.

"Elizabeth!" The governor says and grabs the girl we just saved. "Shoot him!"

"Father!" Elizabeth protests. "Commodore, do you really intend to kill my rescuers?"

I smile at Elizabeth and the Commodore. He puts his sword down as the rest of his crew does.

"I believe thanks are in order." He held his hand out to Jack. Jack hesitantly grabs it only to be pulled forward with his sleeve pulled up. "Had a brush with the East India Trading Company, did we, pirate?" He asks.

Jack winces.

"Hang him!" The governor says.

"Keep your guns on him." The commodore orders. "Gillette, fetch some irons." He pulls the sleeve up more. "Well, well. Jack Sparrow isn't it?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please, sir," Jack responds.

The Commodore then forcefully grabs my arm and sees the same 'P' mark on my wrist.

"I assume that means you're the mermaid then. Nice to meet you, Ava Liz." He spat.

"Get your hands off her," Jack says and grabs my arm back, wrapping his arm around to secure me.

"Oh, and it's SIREN. Thank you." I say and nod.

"I don't see your ship, 'Captain' and 'Siren'." The Commodore says.

"We're in the market, as it were," Jack says.

"He said he'd come to commandeer one." The guard says.

"These are their's, sir!" The other guard says and picks our stuff up. The Commodore takes them and looks around our weapons.

"No additional shots nor powder." There is one additional shot and it's not for you. "A compass that doesn't point north." It works, you just don't know-how. "A black and gold shell necklace." It's not just a necklace. He pulls our swords out. Jack's is rusty and silver. Mine is pitch black with a few scratches around the blade. "And I half expected it to be made of wood." He slips them back into the holsters and returns his gaze to us. "You are without a doubt the worst pirates I've ever heard of!"

Jack smiles. "But you have heard of us."

The Commodore gives us a dirty gaze. Our games are pissing him off. He grabs our arms and pulls us forward.

"Commodore, I really must protest!" Elizabeth runs after us. I groan as they slip the chains onto my hands. They're tight. I can almost feel my wrists turning red.

"Carefully Lieutenant." The Commodore orders. Elizabeth walks in front of us and starts to protest to the Commodore.

"Pirates or not, these people saved my life." She says.

"One good deed does not redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness." He spits.

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Jack says in defense. The Commodore looks at me. I smile and shrug. The smile is genuine, though I'm sure he thought it was sarcastic.

"Indeed." The Commodore says. I pull on the chains and wince. I can already see the rust rubbing off.

The Lieutenant walks away and Jack smiles. He lifts his arms around Elizabeth's neck and pulls her close.

"Finally." He says. The soldiers point their guns at us. I rest my chin on Jack's shoulder and smile at Elizabeth. I shouldn't, but I do. She is so vulnerable and weak. She could be strong with a bit of training from myself, but I wouldn't want to waste my time.

"What's wrong?" I ask. I get close to her ear and whisper. "Scared?" Elizabeth winces and shakes.

"Don't shoot!" The Governor protests. I look to him and pout jokingly. Pathetic.

Jack looks to me and back to Elizabeth. Her breaths are shaky and frightened.

The Commodore's men's eyes were all on me and Jack. Mostly I because of the number of clothes I had on. Currently, the shirt I was wearing was blood red that ended where my ribs did. The pants were —really— short with fishnets lining the rest of my legs. Most of my tattoos were showing. I didn't mind the amount of skin showing but I did have more covering my upper half before Elizabeth fell into the water.

"Commodore Norrington, our effects, please. And my hat. Hand all of Miss. Liz's to her and mine to.. Miss Swann here, Savvy?" Jack says. The Commodore glares at him. "Commodore!", is all Jack had to say before Norrington obliged and started collecting our stuff.

I wink at one of the soldiers to keep them intrigued. Their face flushes up a deep red and they look back to Jack.

"Elizabeth.. it is Elizabeth?" Jack whispers.

"It's Miss Swann." She sneers.

"Miss Swann, if you'd be so kind." He smirks. "Come, come, dear. We don't have all day." Norrington passes my shirt, sword, necklace, and gun to me before handing Jack's weapons and hats to him.

Jack turns Elizabeth around with a gun to her head. I stop paying attention to them and decide to distract the soldiers.

I turn away from them to my back is to their faces. I can almost feel them swallow. The sheer white shirt slips over the top of my torso. I grab my boots and bend over to put them on. Jack's eyes shift to me while Elizabeth is completing his ensemble. He smirks and looks back at the girl. I wrap my necklace around my neck and holster my sword next to my gun. I turn on my heel back to the soldiers while they peel their glaze away from me.

Elizabeth was now done and turned back to her Father and the Commodore's direction. Both Jack and I take steps back as he says, "Gentlemen.. my lady, you will always remember this as the day that you almost caught Captain Jack.. Sparrow!"

He pushes Elizabeth forward and grabs me by my torso. I smile and press my face into his shoulder, hearing a metal clanging and us being pulled up. The scent of rum and saltwater fills my nose.

"Hold on," Jack whispers. My grip around him tightens. The rope Jack is holding onto swung fast, gunshots surrounding us. I feel him land on something and try to balance.

He unravels his grip from me and wraps his handcuffed hands around the rope hanging to the next dock.

To follow him, I pull my sleeves over my hands and slide down the rope. The rope rubs against my shirt which burns insanely.

We reach the end and land on the wood, feet first. I sprint with gunshots surrounding us.

I look to the left and see the town. Jack was running in the opposite direction.

"J!" I whisper and grab his hand, yanking him towards the town.

"Woah! C-Careful, love!" He smirks and interlocks his fingers with mine. I can almost feel my heart beating out my chest. My breath stings my throat. I didn't realize how fast I was running until I turned my head to the right and saw the buildings fly by. "Here," Jack says and sneaks me behind a statue.

It wasn't very spacious. I turn my head to the right seeing Jack peering out from the gap. His eyebrows were furrowed with his eyes darting around to see where the soldiers were looking. I found myself staring at him. I loved watching him in action.

"Ava." He says, snapping me out of my distracted state.

"O-Oh! Yeah?" I shake my head and focus.

"You okay, love? You seem distracted." He asks. I smile and nod. He returns the smile and grabs my hand, pulling me out from behind the statue.

Above us was a sign. The shop was a blacksmith shop. I shrug and Jack walks into the building.

"So.. darling. Any ideas?" Jack says and looks around the shop.

"Nothing. What about you, Captain?" I say. He shrugs.

I hear a slight snoring sound behind me. My body quickly turns to see an elderly man sleeping. He looked dirty.

I nudge Jack with my hand.

"Damn." He mumbles. I let him make his way over to the man.

I turn and drag my fingers across the metal. There were beautifully made swords and other weapons. Some of them looked untouched and polished.

"WOAH!" I hear Jack yell.

"Jack." I groan and continue looking at the swords.

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder, causing me to flinch.

"I need to get your chains off, darlin'." He says calmly.

"I can do it myself." I smile and aggressively pull my hands apart, the chains breaking. Jack looks at me and rolls his eyes.

"Couldn't have done that before?" He asks. I shake my head.

"Wouldn't want the fun to end." I smiled. Sometimes I do forget I can get out of situations like that.

Suddenly, we hear the door open. Jack grabs my arm and drags me behind a table to hide.

I look up and see a young man. He had long dark hair pulled back. I assumed he was apart of the staff here.

"Exactly where I left you." I hear him say. I look at Jack and widen my eyes. He places his finger against my lips to keep me quiet. I look into his eyes. His gaze returned and he smiled.

Suddenly, he stands up with his sword on the hat next to us. I sigh and stand behind him with my sword out.

The boy's eyes lingered on Jack and then onto me.

"You're the one they're hunting," He says, "the pirates." The news must be spreading around town if he already knows.

Jack's arm extended keeping me behind him. It's not like I can't fight for myself. Oh, wait.

"You seem somewhat familiar." Jack's words were slightly slurred. "Have I threatened you before?" He asks.

"I make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates." The boy says.

"Well, today's not sticking with that point," I say and smile. The boy looks at me and tilts his head. He does look quite familiar. I may have seen him when I was a child but I doubt it.

"She's right; it would be a shame to put a black mark on your record." Jack supports. "If you'll excuse us."

I start to turn but get stopped by the sound of metal being slid across something. The boy is now pointing one of the hundreds of swords in the shop at both of us.

"Do you think this wise boy?" Jack smiles. "Crossing blades with a pirate?"

"You threatened Miss Swann." He responds. I would act the same if someone threatened a friend of mine but somehow I'm still annoyed with him.

Jack drags his sword across Will's making a similar noise to before.

"Only a little." He says before striking at the boy. He blocks it. Again, Jack strikes and the boy blocks him.

Not long 'till the boy bests Jack. I slide my sword back to my holster and lean against the wall to watch. It's not every day we find someone as good as Jack or sometimes better.

"You know what you're doing, I'll give you that. Excellent form." He says. "But how's your footwork?"

Jack crosses his left foot over his right, "If I step here..." the boy doing the opposite. "very good." Jack does almost the same action as before, swinging his sword towards the boy, but moves his feet about 4 times more until he is standing in front of me.

"Ta." He nods and holsters his sword. Jack turns on his heel and drags me to the door.

Before I grab the wood that is locking the door, I hear something flying at my head. I duck down and land on my ass.

I look up to see the sword stuck into the door lock, keeping it unable to open. My head turns back to the boy.

"You almost killed me!" I yell. He snickers at my remark.

"You and I both know you were going to duck." He responds. I roll my eyes, refusing him to be correct.

Jack is pulling on the sword, still unable to get it out of the wood it's stuck in.

"That is a wonderful trick," Jack says through gritted teeth. He holds his hand out to me. I grab it and pull myself up. "Except, you almost just killed my right-hand girl and once again, you are between me and my way out. And now..." Jack pulls his sword out, "you have no weapon."

The boy whips around and grabs the fire poker, now burning at the tip. I stumble back as he turns back and points it at Jack's face.

I lean against the wall again and watch Jack and the boy fight.

"Who makes all these?" I yell over all of the noise. I see the boy's eyes flicker over to me and back to Jack.

"I do." He grunts and swings around the pole to strike at Jack. "And I practice with them three hours a day!" He switches positions with Jack.

"You need to find yourself a girl, mate," Jack says and swings his sword at the boy.

"Or perhaps the reason he practices three hours a day is that he's already found one and is otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet," I question. Jack winces.

"You're not a eunuch, are you?" Jack looks down, causing me to laugh.

The boy pushes harder on the clash they're in currently.

"I practice three hours a day so that when I meet a pirate," he slashes at Jack, "I can kill it!"

I roll my eyes. 'It'. Imagine we have pronouns.

They end up on the wheel barrel. I feel myself getting more bored every second I'm just standing here.

I grab my sword and pull it out of the holster and walk forward. Jack is currently upside-down on the ceiling, trying to get unstuck from the sword he is attached to, and the boy is laying on the floor staring at Jack.

I lift my arm and flick my fingers as the boy climbs onto the wood platform. Jack falls unstuck onto the platform, flying the boy onto the ceiling railings.

"Ow." Jack grunts and stands next to me on the platform. The boy slashes a rope, dropping a sack of an unknown substance onto the other side. Jack's body flies to the opposite railing across the boy.

I run to the wall next to me and flip off of it to the railing.

We all jump to the railings next to us. I strike the boy, him blocking me. I grunt and continue striking at him, with him blocking every shot. Suddenly, one of his blocks pushes mine and Jack's swords out of our hands.

I give him an uneasy look and jump down, landing behind where Jack does. He grabs a bag of what I assume is dirt and empties it onto the boy when he jumps down in front of us.

Jack takes his gun out and points it at the boy.

"You cheated!" The boy says, holding a crowbar next to his head.

"Pirate." We say in unison.

Outside the shop, soldiers are pushing on the doors and grunting to get in.

"Move away!" Jack says.

"No." The boy says.

"Please move?!" Jack pleads.

"No! I cannot just step aside and let you escape." He opposes.

Jack pulls the revolver and narrows his eyes. I grab his arm to try and prevent him from what he's about to do.

"This shot is not meant for you." Jack croaked.

"Exactly the reason you shouldn't be pointing this-" A bottle smashes against my head, making everything go dark. I feel myself fall over and slam my head into the ground.

My eyes open to a dark stone room. I gasp and sit up quickly, a blinding pain going through my head.

"Ava?" I hear a familiar groggy voice in my left ear.

"Ow.. stop yelling.." I mumble.

"I'm not yelling, love." He chuckles softly. There are bars in front of where I'm sitting. I stand, ignoring the pain that's coursing my entire brain, and stumble over to the bars. I reach to the rusting iron bars. When my fingers touch the iron, I feel burning, like my skin is going to burn off.

"AGH!" I yell and stumble back. "Vervain.."

Jack smiles and looks back down with his elbows leaning on his knees.

"Feelin' good about yourself?" I laugh, rubbing my fingers and sitting next to him.

"Hm." He grunts in amusement.

I try and keep myself warm against him because for some reason the guards assumed it would be a good idea to take my shirt. It's not like it'd be a dangerous thing for me to be warm. Maybe they just wanted me to be weakened.

"C'mon boy!" I hear the men in the cell next to us yell. They are holding a bone outside the cell, begging for the dog with the keys to come to them. Their nagging made my head pound. I was starting to get nauseous from the headache that they were making worse.

"Jack.. can you tell them to shut it." I groan and squeeze his wrist. He turns his head with his hat still over his eyes.

"You can keep doing that forever. The dog is never going to move." Jack says to the prisoners.

"Oh, excuse us if we haven't resigned ourselves to the gallows just yet." The prisoners respond and turn away, not stopping.

Jack turns back to me with a smirk planted on his face.

"Sorry." He chuckles softly. "Want me to kiss it better?" He cooed. I smile, my cheeks heating up.

"You wish, pretty boy," I mumble and slowly fall asleep.

#the life of liz #ava liz #jack sparrow #pirates of the caribbean #elizabeth swann #william turner #will turner #chapter 1 the life of liz #c1 p1 the life of liz #port royale

3 notes · View notes