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shadyruinskryptonite · 6 months

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Insecurities

Warning: Disordered eating, insecurities, depression, anxiety, self-loathing, references to s*x but no descriptions and not smut, unemployment, language, super negative self-talk (reader calls herself a bitch and fat), pet names (babe, baby, love), not proofread

Genre: hurt/comfort, established relationship, Modern AU!Eren x fem reader

A/n: Italics mean it’s the reader’s thoughts. Sorry that this is very dark and sad. As with any of my writing, it’s very self-serving. I promise that I’m alright, just feeling a bit insecure (I’m on the bigger side) and this will be comforting for me and therapeutic. Take care of yourselves <3

WC: 2390

y/n, texting: Hey Ren! You think we could hang out after work?

Ren: Sorry, I’ve gotta go to the gym and have some errands to run so I don’t think I can tonight 😢I should be able to tomorrow though if you’d like!

I sigh, feeling the familiar pressure settling on my chest as my stomach growls.

y/n: Oh, yeah. That’s fine. Tomorrow works! Love ya!

Ren: Love you too, babe.

I toss my phone to the side, heaving another sigh as I flop my head back.

I can’t expect him to realize something is wrong if I don’t tell him. How can you be both so good at hiding how you feel AND expect Eren to see through it? Dumb bitch, this is why you are disappointed so often, people can never live up to your unrealistic expectations.

Tears prick my eyes and I decide that the growling of my stomach is too obnoxious to ignore, so I walk to the fridge knowing I won’t find anything satisfactory. Settling on some cheese sticks, I fill the gaps with a bit of sparkling water.

If you want to like how you look in pictures, this better be the only thing you eat today.

Nodding to myself, I go back to my bed to finish my snack before sliding under the covers. Having not had more than one meal each day for longer than I can remember, I’m definitely exhausted. I’ve been searching and applying to jobs so often that I’m mentally just shot.

You should’ve never left your job. Sure they treated you like shit, but at least you had a paycheck. You’re so stupid for thinking you’d get a job quickly. And any place you work is going to be the exact same since you’re so fucking lazy.

I squeeze my eyes together before I turn on my white noise in the background hoping to drown out my own thoughts. Slowly, I drift off to a nap.

---

When I’m snapped out of my sleep, the room is dark. I rub my eyes, extremely disoriented because something that wasn’t my alarm is what pulled me awake. I glance at the time and realize I had been asleep for at least three hours. There’s a knock at the door, and it dawns on me that this is what must have pulled me out of my sleep.

Wearing just Eren’s hoodie, I stretch before calling out, “One minute!”

You’re not really going to answer the door like that are you? Even though the hoodie covers your ass your fat thighs with their stretch marks are out. You can’t have someone seeing that!

I groan before stepping into my closet briefly. I pull on a pair of leggings but quickly realize they’re tighter than the last time I wore them.

Ugh! You’re better off having your fat out. Just look at how these show the shadow under your gut! It’s disgusting.

For what feels like the hundredth time today I fight off tears not wanting to open the door looking like a crying mess on top of how shitty I already feel. I pull off the leggings in a huff and go to the door, too tired to care anymore.

When I glance through the peephole, I’m surprised to see Eren standing outside my door. I fling it open, confusion evident on my face. It’s only as he’s looking me over that I realize how messed up my hair must be so I quickly pull out the hair tie that was realistically only hanging on by a thread anyway.

His warm smile that crinkles his eyes and his musky scent envelope me, momentarily lifting the cloud off of me. But just as quickly as I felt better, the doom and gloom returned along with guilt.

Look at how handsome he is, it’s so unfair of him to be stuck with you. You were too obvious about how you felt and now you’ve forced him to come over here instead of doing the things he was planning on doing. Always a burden.

Fighting off the thoughts, I smile up at my boyfriend, trying to convey that I really am happy he’s here. A little worried about his response, I ask “what happened, I thought you were going to the gym and had errands to run?”

There’s an almost imperceptible furrow to his brow and I can tell he knows something is wrong.

Fuck! Don’t make him worry about you!

“I got off a little early so I’ve already gone to the gym and I decided that my errands could wait. You seemed off over text so I wanted to come check on you, and…I think I’m glad I did. What’s wrong baby?”

I pull him into my apartment and say, “nothing Ren, what makes you think something is wrong?”

I don’t want to worry him but, god, there’s nothing I need more than him right now.

As the door closes, the room is once again enveloped in darkness. “Well,” he says as he flips the light on, “for starters I can tell you just woke up from a nap.”

“I nap all of the time Ren, that’s nothing special” I say with a giggle, and to an untrained ear it sounds so very genuine. Not to Eren though. Wanting desperately to change the subject I ask, “Have you had anything to eat? If you went to the gym you must be hungry.”

As I go to walk towards the kitchen, he gently grabs my arm. “I had a smoothie, so I’m fine.” He’s still holding my arm when he looks behind me and sees clothes discarded on the floor of my closet, only he’s almost certain that they aren’t dirty. When he looks back to me, I can tell the expression on his face has bloomed into full-on worry.

“Talk to me, y/n,” he almost whispers.

I can’t hold his eyes so I look away, his thumb now rubbing loving circles on my arm. I steel myself so I can try to keep up the already fragile wall and look back at him with a softer smile this time. “I’m okay love, I promise. I appreciate you making sure I’m okay, though,” I say before getting on my toes to peck him on the lips. His eyes narrow slightly but he doesn’t press the matter.

Moving to the couch, Eren lays down with his head resting on the arm of the chair and invites me into him. I happily oblige. He has some random show on in the background, but as soon as I settle onto his chest and into his arms, my lip starts to quiver. My face is hidden in his chest, and I can tell he’s looking at the TV and not me, which is good because this time I couldn’t hold back the tears that had been brewing the entire day and, honestly, for the last nearly month.

I lay there, crying quietly as some stupid sitcom plays. Only there came a point where my crying wasn’t so easily hidden anymore. I move my hand to my mouth in hopes to cover any noise but there was no hiding the sob that racked my body. This got his attention.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

“Hey, hey, look at me baby, just look at me,” Eren says with increased urgency as he shifts so I can comfortably look up and make eye contact. When I fight looking at him, he changes strategy. Holding me impossibly close with one hand on the back of my head and the other on my back, he rubs comforting circles anywhere he can. “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay baby. I’m right here. It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.

My sobbing gets harder before it starts to calm down, and if I could’ve seen his face I would’ve known how each new cry broke his heart all over again. When my crying had mostly subsided, I tried to choke out an apology which only made me begin to cry harder.

Now, Eren insisted on me looking at him. As he held my chin he asked, “Why the hell are you sorry? I don’t even know what you’re upset about yet.”

Through shuddering breaths, I manage to say, “I-I’m sorry for c-c-crying and I’m s-sorry for making you w-worry and f-f-for being a burden and, and, and… just for everything!” I try to bury my face in his chest again but he stops me.

“Baby! You never have to be sorry for crying. Where the fuck did you get the idea that you’re a BURDEN?” As he speaks, he looks almost hurt that I would say such a thing.

“I-I took you away f-f-from your plans,” I whine out.

“That doesn’t make you a burden love,” he says as he strokes my cheek. Shifting again to get us more on eye level, he continues, “this is not what’s making you cry this hard though. Please talk to me, y/n. I just, I feel so helpless if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” By now he’s holding my face, so I can only glance down to escape his eyes.

I know what I’m about to say will make him mad, so I keep looking down as I whisper, “why do you even care?” I feel his hands get tighter on my face. Not so tight that it hurts, but tighter nonetheless so I know he IS mad just like I was worried about.

What I wasn’t expecting was to be met with silence. When I look up, his eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open. Wanting to escape the situation, I say, “close your mouth, you’re going to catch flies like that,” but as I reach up to his face to gently shut his jaw, he grabs my hand hard.

“Why do I even care? I really can’t believe you just asked me that.” Mistaking his incredulity for annoyance, I frantically begin to apologize again as fresh tears spill over.

“Please stop apologizing, y/n. You don’t have anything to apologize for.” This shuts me up and for a moment we just sit in silence before it’s his turn to look away and he asks, “Have I not been doing enough to make you feel like I care? I’ll do anything you need, I-”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean at all, you’re an incredible boyfriend and you make me feel so loved every day, it’s…it’s just that…” I pause to sigh. The last thing I wanted was for HIM to feel guilty. But how do I even begin to articulate what the problem is?

Eren waits patiently as I battle internally. Finally, I look down and continue, “It’s just that I don’t understand why you care about ME. I’m…I’m…I’m repulsive! I mean, just look at me!” I gesture to myself, still not making eye contact. Now I’m getting really worked up as I say, “We have no good pictures together because I ruin them all! I haven’t been able to contribute to a date in months because I have no money and on top of that you’ve had to bail me out financially more than once! I’m just…I’m useless! Fat, and lazy, and useless, and-”

I’m suddenly pulled into a crushing hug. Tangling one hand into Eren’s hair, I cry into the crook of his neck. For the first time in a while, I’m able to feel some of the weight lifting off of me. We stay like this for a moment and as my crying begins to subside, I can hear Eren speak through gritted teeth. Anger radiates off of him as he forces out, “did someone say something like this to you? Because if this is someone’s fault I’ll ki-”

“No one said this to me, Ren.” I lean back and realize he’s got tears glistening on his cheeks. I feel so bad for making him cry, but his silence implies he wants further explanation. I cup his face in my hands to wipe away his tears before I kind of chuckle and say, “No, no one said something to me. It’s just, I mean, I have eyes.”

“Well maybe you should get them checked then!” he bursts. I’m taken aback but it doesn’t stop him from continuing, “Because we must be seeing different things! Because when I look at you I just see happiness and love and sunshine.”

I chuckle again before I say, “Thank you Ren, but, to be fair, you’re my boyfriend. You’re supposed to say that kind of shit.”

Without an ounce of humor, he interjects “Well if I’m supposed to say it, then I must not be saying it enough. There are so many things about you that I love, like how smart you are and your humor and your kindness, but I never would have even wanted to get to know those things if I didn’t find you jaw-droppingly attractive. Your hair that looks soft and shiny no matter if you leave it natural or style it, your eyes that I find myself getting lost in every time we make eye contact, your smile that can genuinely turn my day around. And you’re every man’s dream because I don’t have to choose between tits and ass,” he squeezes both as his says that, making me genuinely laugh which reflects in his own smile before he continues, “and while I know you don’t like your stretch marks, I love them both because I think they’re like pretty tattoos but also because the skin is more sensitive so it gives me another way to drive you crazy any time we have sex.”

Before I can respond, he finishes off by saying, “You asked why I even care, but the answer is simple, and it’s because I love you. You are the greatest person I’ve ever met, and I will spend the rest of my life proving this to you if that’s what it takes.” He then kisses me softly yet passionately, conveying exactly how deeply he means everything he just said.

“It’s not something I’m just immediately going to believe about myself, but thank you. That really helped, Ren.” I kiss him one more time before saying, “I love you so much baby.”

“I love you too y/n.”

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frombeyondtheblackhole · 2 years

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Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 11

[TW // Death mention, discussions of perma-death]

There was a jolt, then Schlatt was sitting in front of a fire pit on a beach in the sunlight. A doe eared redhead stared at him from across the fire.

“What the Fuck, Not this again. Where the fuck am I? Who the hell are you? What don’t you people understand about ‘I don’t want to be revived.’” Schlatt said, rising from his seat. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck- I could really use some whisky right about now. Why is it so bright out. Ugh, fuck me.” He looked up across the fire pit at the girl, “Stop staring at me like a deer in the headlights, and do something useful,” He snapped his fingers at her, “Get me some whisky.”

“Uh- we don’t have any,” She said, glancing between him and the sky.

Schlatt stared at her “What about Vodka?”

She shook her head.

“Protein powder? You've got to have at least that,”

“I- sorry, I don’t know,”

“We’ll you’re useless,” He said, summoning a cigarette.

“Hey, you’ve been nothing but rude since the moment you got here.”

Schlatt lit his cigarette and took a long drag before letting out a puff of smoke. “That’s what you get for waking the dead… I was in the middle of a nice nap, and then you fucking drag me here, and you expect me to be grateful. Tough luck kid.”

“The dead?”

“Don’t play dumb, I’m not fucking stupid, I know you revived me.”

“Gem, what’s going on?” A creeper hybrid in a lab coat said gliding in from the sky and landing on the beach. So people were using elytra now on this godforsaken server? When did that happen?

“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

Gem’s face lit up as she turned to the newcomer “Doc! I was talking to Ren and then he got swapped and now…” She trailed off and glanced in Schlatt’s direction.

“What?” Schlatt scowled.

Doc glared at him. “Where is Ren?”

“Ren who?” Schlatt said, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Ren, my base mate, the dog hybrid you just kidnaped,” Doc said.

“Boo ho, your bwest fwend is missing. I don’t give a fuck. Go cry to your therapist.” Schlatt turned on his heel and started walking away. He didn’t know where he was going, he just wanted to get away from these losers… and maybe find some whisky.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere until you explain yourself,” Doc said, grabbing Schlatt’s arm.

Schlatt yanked his arm away. “Fuck off.”

“Um, maybe we can just try and calm down and talk about this,” Gem said, edging closer to the two men and holding up her hands in a placating gesture.

Doc glared at Schlatt and took a step back. “Alright.”

Schlatt scoffed and threw his used cigarette in the sand at Doc’s feet.

“Alright…” Gem sighed. “We should probably tell X what is going on.”

“Ah... no.” Schlatt said, turning on his heel and breaking into a run. “See you fuckers.”

He ran as fast as he could, lungs burning. Boy he was out of shape. He reached the edge of the forest when he heard the fwish of a rocket and Doc barreled into him knocking him on his face. Schlatt spit out sand. “What the fuck, get off me.”

“No.” Doc adjusted himself so he was sitting on him. “Now tell us where Ren is.”

“I don’t know.”

Gem approached carefully. “Um- maybe he’s telling the truth… you should probably get off him.”

Doc huffed and crossed his arms, and Schlatt gave them both the middle finger.

“Ok, no, I take that back, you can sit on him,” Gem said, looking unimpressed.

---

They walked down the path. Schlatt dragged his feet and Doc dragged Schlatt by the collar of his suit to keep him from running away. That bionic arm was strong… and scary.

They crossed a bridge over a river that cut itself a small ravine through the mountains. More people Schlatt didn’t recognize moved about working on half built houses in the shadow of the mountains.

“Oh, hey Doc, I see you’ve found another one.”

Schlatt looked up to see a man in a red sweater, rainbow thread stitching up a tear down the front.

Like loverboy’s stupid idiotic ghost that was always crying all the time. The blue bastard.

The man in red smiled, his wings spreading slightly. Schlatt’s breath caught. No, he wasn’t like that brainless ghost. This man was like Wilbur; a Watcher.

“So you're behind this! You're the fucked up asshole that brought me back. Are you working with Wilbur? The Watcher bastard,” Schlatt spat wriggling free of Doc’s grasp, slipping out of his suit jacket.

“Excuse me?” The man in red’s head snapped up, his face went dark, his eyes purple, as he summoned his sword.

Schlatt faltered then laughed “You don’t scare me, go ahead kill me. I’ve spent 20 fucking years in limbo, your threats are hollow; meaningless.”

The man in red gritted his teeth, white knuckles gripping the hilt of his sword “How do you know about The Organization?”

“Oh, I see, you're not with Loverboy. Are you here to take him back with you? If you want my help I’m gonna need to know what’s in it for me?”

The man in red sucked in his breath.

“Grian, are you ok?” Gem asked.

Grian’s head snapped around to look at her, the purple faded from his eyes and he took a shaky breath. “Sorry, I’m fine.” He turned back to Schlatt, “How do you know about The Organization?”

Schlatt shrugged summoning another cigarette and lighting it “Loverboy told me about it,”

“Who is Loverboy?” Doc asked.

Schlatt rolled his eyes “Wilbur Soot, I know the man pretty well, I mean, I spent over a decade in limbo with him. You promise to set me up and I’ll help you grab him.”

Grian hesitated before looking Schlatt in the eyes, “You’ve got a deal.”

---

Pearl had come over to see who the newcomer was. Then they mentioned Watchers. The way Grian’s eyes went hard. Why would he lie like that? What was he planning?

She watched as Grian lead Schlatt into one of the half finished buildings to speak to him in private. Grian gave her a look over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. A promise that he had everything under control. That he knew what he was doing. Even so, it was unnerving seeing him like this, how easily he could switch between friend and Watcher… it was easy to forget that he wasn’t human anymore.

Doc paced back and forth and Gem stood to the side wringing her hands.

Gem looked over at Pearl and gave her a nervous smile, “Sooo, how are you all holding up?”

Pearl shrugged, “X was nice enough to let us build houses on his land, he said he was planning on putting a trading village here but he’s been too busy with everything to do anything about that so he let us build here instead.”

“But this is all just temporary!” Scar said, pausing as he passed, carrying two shulker boxes stacked under his chin. “We are getting Boatem back, don’t you worry!”

Doc stopped pacing and looked up “How did a bunch of amateurs take an entire village from you? Dere are way more of us den dere are of dem, if you storm da place it should be easy.”

Pearl shifted her weight and looked to the side, “Ah… well, the first time they caught us by surprise… and the second time we were down by two. We tried to do a little reconnaissance and ran into some traps they had set. Now we have been taking some time to come up with a plan.”

Mumbo looked up from where he sat cross legged on a chest, working on a small glass box full of wires. “We’ll I’ve got the parts for a pretty good plan right here,” He held up the box of red and purple wires.

Gem moved in to get a closer look, a soft purple glow came from inside the box, reflecting off of Mumbo’s face. Her eyes went wide, “End crystals.”

“I like da looks of dat plan.” Doc grinned.

---

Grian left the building where he’d spent the past hour negotiating with Schlatt. Why had he lied? He let Schlatt believe he was the one responsible for bringing him here. For reviving him. He Just told him what he wanted to hear. It was intoxicating how easy it was to slip into that lie. To feel in control. No- he just did what he had to to get his friends back… to keep them safe. Perma-death was terrifying. But if one could control it then… anything was possible...

Grian walked down the path towards the tunnel through the mountain leading to a bridge and X’s base. He took a deep breath, breathing in the crisp mountain air and stretching his wings. He crossed the bridge and the clearing, climbing the steps to X’s house and knocking on the door.

There was a muffled “Come in.” from the other side and Grian pushed the door open. Joe hung upside down off the side of the bed with a book in his hands and another stack of books next to him. And X sat at the table his eyes glazed over, communicating with the server.

Joe looked at Grain as he entered.

“How long has he been in there?” Grian asked, nodding towards X, who sat unresponsive.

“An hour and a half.” Joe shrugged. How he did that upside down Grian didn’t know.

“He’s overdoing it again,” Grian muttered “What did we say about taking breaks?” He moved to stand next to X, his own eyes going purple as he snapped his fingers near X’s ear a couple of times, little purple sparks jumping from his fingertips.

X jumped and blinked, turning to look at Grian. The purple faded from Grains eyes and he smiled softly “You promised you would take breaks.”

X looked askance and rubbed the back of his neck “Sorry… I just felt like I was making progress for once.”

Grian moved over to the cabinets and got out two mugs “Tea?” He asked.

“That would be nice.” X nodded. A minute later Grian handed him a steaming cup and hopped up on the counter cradling his own mug between his knees.

“Thanks, I’m assuming you didn’t wake me up just to fuss at me and have tea though.”

Grian looked up from his mug and nodded “There’s been another swap… this one was… interesting. Ren was swapped with a man named Schlatt. Apparently Schlatt perma-died on the DSMP about 20 years ago and he thinks we revived him. He also knows about Watchers. He thinks I am a member of The Organization and that I am looking for another Watcher named Wilbur. He offered to help for a price so I played along to see if I could get more information out of him.”

“What did you find out?”

“We’ll for one, there is apparently a known way to revive people who have perma-died. Schlatt mentioned something about a book. Another thing is that when someone perma-dies they go to a place called Limbo. Schlatt described it as a gym with no windows or doors. If Limbo is a physical place then it might be possible for a Watcher to go there.”

Joe looked up from his book “A gym? Cleo described it more like a dark river. Just darkness and flowing water.”

“Maybe Limbo is different depending on the server you died on… like the nether or the end.” Grian suggested.

“Ok, makes sense. Is this Schlatt undead?” Joe asked

“What? No.”

“When I revived Cleo she came back as a Zombie. I didn’t use a book though. If he isn’t undead that must mean something... no idea what though.”

Grian frowned and stared at his mug.

X sighed “And he isn’t a Watcher himself?” X asked.

Grian glanced up and shook his head “No, he doesn't have the wings.”

“You mentioned someone named Wilbur, what about him?”

“I wasn’t able to ask too many questions about him without breaking my cover. But I was able to piece together a few things. Wilbur is a Watcher who lived on the DSMP at least 20 years ago. He died around the same time Schlatt did but was revived several years ago.

“Schlatt made his dislike for the man very clear. I don’t know the circumstances but he was also somehow the reason Schlatt was on the DSMP in the first place. Apparently Wilbur is able to leave and return to the DSMP at will. I never heard of anyone named Wilbur who escaped The Organization while I was with them but they could have just been trying to keep it quiet to save face. Another possibility is that Wilbur is an alias for Philza.”

“If Wilbur or Philza, or whoever they really are, can move to and from the DSMP that easily is it possible he is behind the swaps,” X asked

“I can’t see how… even if he can pass through the DSMP firewall he would need a proper portal to take people with him. There’s been no evidence of that. And that doesn't explain why the server still thinks they are the swapped Hermits.”

X sighed and ran his hand through his hair, sending it into an even more disheveled state than before.

Joe flipped over onto his stomach. “So this guy’s been dead for 20 years… mind if I talk to him, sounds fascinating.”

Grian shrugged, “I don’t see why not.”

Xisuma’s head shot up, “Wait, if Schlatt was dead and he got revived when he was swapped then what happened to Ren?”

---

Eret’s boots crunched against the pine needles as he walked. He looked up at the moon as It cast soft blue light through the branches of the pine trees in the woods just outside his castle. Eret wore a white blouse and an ankle length maroon skirt. His red cloak draped over his shoulders and clasped at the throat with a gold medallion. Simple attire for a casual midnight stroll.

Eret looked up. He heard shuffling and muttering ahead. Was it a mob? No- a player?

“These dang chickens… gettin’ all up in my business…”

Eret entered a clearing. There were no chicken’s. Instead, a partially transparent man moved about a half built structure of wood and cobble.

A ghost.

Eret didn’t recognize him. He was a dog hybrid with desaturated skin and a bionic arm.

“Well that won’t do.” The ghost said, leaning against some cobble and pushing it into a new position. He stepped back and inspected his work circling the thing. He stopped and pushed a wooden beam so it was leaning against another stack of stone, then he placed down some redstone on top of a wall seemingly at random. He stepped back, brushing off his hands and looking proudly at his handy work. He scowled, noticing something out of place and began dismantling the entire wall, muttering himself.

Eret coughed and stepped into the clearing. The ghost stopped and glanced up “What’s up my Dude?”

“I haven’t seen you around before.” Eret said carefully.

The ghost shrugged and moved the wooden beam back where it had been before.

“What are you building?”

“Chickens are everywhere, dude. Doc’s getting tired of eggs in his pockets.” He climbed up an uneven part of the wall and stood at the top looking down at Eret.

Eret nodded as if he understood. He didn’t. It didn’t matter. “Would you like any help with that?”

“Nah, I got it. We’ll be cooking with gas in no time.”

Eret nodded, “We haven't been properly introduced. I’m Eret. What’s your name?”

“Ren- Ren-” He faltered, staring vacantly at the stars through the tree branches, “Um call me RenGhost.” He jumped down from the wall “Gotta get this thing built, can’t have Doc complaining at the cookout.”

Eret watched him go back to aimlessly shifting stones about. He sighed and sat down on a rock. It wasn’t like he was going to get any sleep anyway, the least he could do was keep the man company.

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fortruechaos · 2 years

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indie + private + low-med activity SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG from the sonic franchise. mostly pulls from game-verse (mostly SA2) with inspiration from archie, IDW, sonic x, and my own headcanons. penned by ren.

est. may 2019. moved to this blog mar 2022.

rules + more info under the cut

don’t be a freak (racist, xenophobic, lgbt+phobic, a transmed, you ship adults w/ children or the ilk, etc. etc.)

i work full-time, blog is low-med activity, i do other things, please don’t bug me for replies

private blog, largely friends-only but open to new encounters although i’m pretty selective with who i follow these days due to my energy levels

i like mains but don’t do exclusives, this rpc is too small for it. i don’t have a ton of rules about mains, i just like it for the sake of continuity with my portrayal. if you’re my friend i probably consider you a main

duplicates i love you but i may be nervous to approach first.

i prefer longer, more literate replies

shipping is multi-ship exclusive on my end which means if i ship with someone’s portrayal they will be the only version of that character i ship with. idc if you treat the ship as exclusive on your end this is just something i have personal preference for for me and my writing

i’m not comfortable engaging with people who write nsfw for sonic characters on their main accounts or who promo this content on their main accounts. idc if you do this on a side account or anything (unless you’re writing it for a character who is explicitly treated like a child in which case i hate you) i just don’t want to see it so i don’t like interacting if people have it on their mains or promo it often.

i use small text + 70x70 icons in my replies. i will not write with people who overuse fancy formatting. generally i try to match the other person’s formatting (if you don’t use small text i won’t either)

ren, 23, they/he. i love archie sonic, i love SA1, blaze the cat and babylon rogues supremacy

link to a more fleshed out dossier will be coming soon but here’s the basic info that is really important to my portrayal

shadow the hedgehog 2005 is not canon to my portrayal of shadow. shadow has not met black doom. he is still part-black arms. gerald retrieved the DNA when he traveled to mobius, seeking help from the tech of the ancient echidnas and babylonians. when he returned to the ARK he infused shadow with this DNA. he called the DNA strand “black arms” due to its appearance

in the instance of idw canon threads/muses/etc., my shadow was not zombotted.

age of shadow is pretty partner headcanon dependent but i default to about 23. ages in this series are pretty much up in limbo at this point so who cares really

outside of that i’m pretty wishy washy with what’s canon and not canon just like SEGA and actual canon is idk it’s hedgehogs let’s have some fun. i don’t really use verse tags because this stuff constantly changes.

#(pinned)

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haworthiaace · 4 years

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Magic Misfits AU

Ok so basically we made an au based off of the fact that Scar kept calling his village the village for magical misfits. Scar finds out that he somehow ended up on a server for magical misfits, and now he’s created a sort of safe haven within the server, so naturally they flock to it. Some hermits don’t surprise him, the ones that don’t really bother making an effort to hide their magic, or the ones who can’t hide it. But some hermits deeply confuse him. Chaos ensues.

TLDR Scar becomes a magical therapist for the hermits

Scar is a wizard, he doesn’t really specialize in anything besides his crystals, which is why he’s able to help with a variety of magical issues. He ends up becoming the one entrusted with everyone’s secrets and problems, which makes him Stressed, but he enjoys helping his friends.

Both Xisuma and Evil Xisuma are shapeshifters, with the ability to change their appearance, but not their size. X keeps his appearance hidden from the hermits, which of course inspires wild theories ranging from eldritch abomination to biblical angels, but X won’t reveal if any theories are true. The only ones that know are Hypno (explained later) and Scar. Scar found out when Xisuma showed up hurt at his doorstep, without enough energy to keep another form. Scar was sworn to secrecy afterwards, and he deeply enjoys listening to other hermits pester him for answers. X actually just looks startlingly average, to the point that he’s unwilling to reveal himself solely because people expect him to be something a little more intimidating, and especially now with the ridiculous rumours the hermits have started.

EX doesn’t hide his true form (which is identical to X’s), but of course the hermits don’t believe him, thinking that it’s just another disguise, and EX won’t confirm or deny because he thinks it makes them more afraid of him. (It doesn’t) He’ll also frequently try to impersonate hermits to destroy the server from the inside out, but he is a terrible actor (so is X) and rarely gets far in his plans.

Mumbo and Grian are fairies, but they’re originally from different communities (courts? I really don’t know much about fairies) so they don’t know the other is a fairy until Grian’s hermit challenges initiation. They can shrink into a smaller form that has wings, but it takes quite a bit of effort to switch between forms. (also fun fact: if mumbo is a fairy that means hermit challenges is a magically binding contract)

Iskall is just. Completely human. His prosthetic eye is powered by magic, (and maintained by Scar!) but other than that he’s just a dude. However, he has very strange things happen to him all the time because he’s befriended not one, but two fairies, and he hasn’t noticed either one. He finds that he often has abnormally good luck, and his lost objects will mysteriously turn up as soon as he complains to his best friends about it. He asks Scar if he knows anything, but Scar, not wanting to break Mumbo or Grian’s trust, has to play dumb while also helping Iskall with his ‘problem’.

Now this might come as a shock but. Ren is a werewolf. It may not be unique but it is fitting. One full moon near the beginning of season 7, Ren showed up at the village around sunset, and frantically insisted that Scar let him stay the night in an unoccupied house. So Scar let him stay, and the next morning Ren explained his Situation. So now Scar helps Ren be as comfortable as possible on the night of his transformation and the day after they just chill together.

Stress has her potion brewery, and she’s the first one on the list to fall into the category of Not Having Frequent Magical Emergencies; she just goes to the village to hang out because hey why not? It’s cozy, plus Scar helps her brainstorm potion recipes over cookies and hot chocolate. Scar comes to her often needing a potion (usually of the healing variety) because someone Fucked Up.

Tango is also human, but at some point he was cursed, and his vision started to literally turn red until it was all he could see. The curse was halted thanks to Zed and Impulse, but the red eyes still remain. (Though thankfully his vision returned) They aren’t sure what the curse would have done if it wasn’t stopped, and they’d be happy to never find out.

Zed is an elf, and while he does have a little bit of magic, it wasn’t enough to stop whatever was afflicting Tango, so he turned to more demonic methods. When Tango’s sight got really bad, he summoned a demon (Impulse) and offered his soul in exchange for a cure to the curse. Impulse did the best he could, restoring Tango’s vision but leaving the red eyes, and then left with his price. Zed’s health slowly started declining: he had basically no energy or life due to the separation from his soul. So Tango summoned Impulse back and asked for Zed’s soul back, but it couldn’t be returned without reversing the deal, and Zed wasn’t willing to do that. So Tango ‘asked’ Impulse to stay with them for a while so Tango could convince Zed to back out of the deal. It turns out that being near his soul (kept by Impulse) returned Zed’s energy, and Impulse decided he liked these two so they became a trio, and joined hermitcraft soon after.

Quite often 2 members of team ZIT will wake up Scar in the middle of the night because they accidentally did something to the missing member (banished Impulse, sent Tango to the shadow realm, etc.) and they don’t know what to do. Scar has a ZIT protocol. It’s used far too often. They also constantly try to figure out what the more human looking hermits are. They do not often succeed.

At night, Bdubs turns into a sleep paralysis demon looking creature, and he (unwillingly) curses people to sleep for a completely random amount of time. After an Incident with Wels in season 6, (that’s the reason for his ‘nap’) he makes sure to sleep as early as possible every night. He thankfully isn’t affected by this while in the End or Nether.

Alright lads here’s the angsty one. Beef has the midas touch, meaning everything he touches turns to gold. It works much slower on living creatures than on inanimate objects, but it still works on living things so that’s Not Good. He makes sure to wear special enchanted gloves that block his curse while wearing them. At some point he goes to Scar in a panic because he accidentally touched Etho with his bare hands, (Etho handles this surprisingly well) and Scar helps him fix Etho. (It’s minecraft rules. They just cut his arm off and it comes back.) After that they put a curse of binding enchantment on Beef’s gloves.

Cleo is still a zombie, and she sometimes gets Scar to help her with Zombie Problems when Joe isn’t available. The first time she showed up outside Larry with her (severed) arm held in one hand Scar nearly jumped out of his robes, but he’s pretty used to it by now and will just go inside to grab a needle and thread.

Joe certainly is something! Nobody is quite sure, even Scar. All Scar knows is that Joe knows way too much about everything, and yet he keeps asking Scar to help him translate Galactic. (Joe is secretly trying to teach Scar the language because he feels that it’s important for magic users to know, especially ones so versatile like Scar) Joe is some kind of oracle who receives visions of the past, present, and future, which is why he knows so much, and he’s also at least dabbled in almost every kind of magic there is. He’s a bit of a cryptid.

The local mad scientist is Cub, who does all sorts of weird experiments, and makes inventions that combine magic and technology in disturbing yet wonderful ways. He also got cursed by his pyramid, so now he has comically bad luck. It doesn’t usually cause any serious harm, just shenanigans. He of course embraces this and finds it funny as hell.

On top of Doc’s regular strangeness, (creeper hybrid, cyborg, goat whisperer?) he also for some reason attracts a frankly unreasonable amount of kitsunes. Nobody knows why, but he can be seen in the shopping district being trailed by no less than two foxes with varying amounts of tails. It’s really very cute, and the mystery of it infuriates the more investigative hermits. (Cub and team ZIT mostly)

Etho is a demigod, although nobody knows what god he’s descended from. (including Etho) He has the fun ability to grant others’ wishes, but because of his personality he chooses to twist these wishes and turn them into fun little pranks that technically give the person what they want, but not without annoying them first. He also doesn’t reveal this ability to the others, leaving them even more confused whenever he uses it, which isn’t often because it does drain him quite a bit.

False, being the badass she is, is a valkyrie. She towers over most of the hermits, and between her height, wings, and blazing sword she’s quite intimidating. Despite this, she’s still very sweet, and would never seriously hurt her friends on purpose, but enemies are a whole different story.

Hypno at first seems totally human, but he actually comes from a world full of magic, each person having their own individual ability. Hypno’s ability is to absorb/ cancel out magic, which means that no magic can affect him, and he can also choose to stop any magic by touching the target of the magic. This got him exiled from his world, but he found a new family in the hermits. Because he isn’t affected by magic, he can see through Xisuma’s disguise, but he just assumes that he sees the same thing as everyone else. He hangs out with Beef when he needs comfort because he knows Beef can’t accidentally hurt him.

Jevin is,, slime. Not a minecraft slime, he’s just a pile of sentient slime held together by magic. (Necromancy? probably) Hypno likes to mess with him by touching small parts of him and disrupting the magic so a chunk of his arm falls off. Scar then has to fix it, but it’s still funny.

Keralis has the power of hypnotizing people by looking into his eyes. (Nothing but his eyes) He of course uses this power for mischief, although nothing actually bad. Usually uses it to ‘convince’ people to buy a book or seven. He also sometimes does it on accident, in which case he drops them off at Scar’s until they snap out of it. Team ZIT keeps asking him to hypnotize X so he’ll reveal his true form, but Keralis doesn’t want to force him to reveal that, plus he finds their attempts at figuring it out entertaining.

XB is an unfortunately forgetful selkie, and most of his visits to Scar are because he lost his coat in one of his shulker boxes again. On one memorable occasion he arrived in a panic after losing his coat again, and Scar had to spend about 5 minutes trying to suppress his laughter enough to tell XB that it was on him.

TFC doesn’t have magical crises, much to Scar’s relief. He’s just a humble earthbender living in the mines, occasionally coming out to the village to ask Scar for a crystal to help his back pain, or to give the poor man an afternoon of peace. In fact, Scar turns the tables by asking TFC for magical help with terraforming, which he’s glad to offer in exchange for all that Scar does for everyone.

Wels is a bard, which makes his sea shanties even more powerful than they already are. When Hermitgang came out, a hole was blown in the G team base, much to the surprise of everyone inside at that moment. Hels is also a bard, but he prefers rock music over sea shanties. Diabolical was an actual magical duel, and it probably looked sick as hell.

Bonus: Jellie is secretly a powerful eldritch being, and is the only one with magic that can affect Hypno. It’s a good thing she’s interested in getting pets and treats rather than destroying the server, because she probably could. She casually hops between worlds whenever Scar isn’t around, going on delightful little adventures. Scar takes quite a while to figure this out, and loses his shit when he does. When she got struck by lightning, she just turned up totally fine the next day and Scar didn’t question it too much.

I’d like to thank the discord for helping with ideas, ya’ll are so creative and i appreciate you all <3 ( @skywillsometimeswrite @bigbadantianti @justletmeplayminecraft @badtimeswithscar @aceacebaby12345 @litabattoir @icewolfstar @burntmagicc @dicerxll @dioritegang @cut-the-string @anntonka @shadeswift99

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writing-the-end · 3 years

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LoL Chapter 49- The Underground

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block (new computer and I still can’t fuckin at you)

Turns out the hermits aren’t the only ones who wish to get rid of Magistrate Dolios.

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Etho drops into the canal below, water rippling without a single drop to disturb the silent cave. Heterochromatic eyes rove across the dark, dank tunnel, waving one hand for the others to follow. Scar comes next, much less gracefully as he misses the last rung and tumbles into the canal with a heavy splash.

They were beneath the noble district of the city. Grown above the canals like most of Milliara, they built up beyond the lifeblood of Lairyon. Left it behind, to pass through in these underwater canals, until they lead to a fountain, messenger canal, or the rest of the city.

Once Xisuma’s boots are in the water, he sloshes forward without pause. He knows who he saw, he’s just not sure if he believes it. Ex never gets involved with anything. He always waits, watches from the sidelines. When X wanted to fight, it was Ex that stayed behind. When X wanted to be a guild, Ex went on his own.

He continues on, following the distance sound of scraping and scuffling, harsh against the soft patter of water and trickle of running water. Xisuma rounds the corner, white light reflecting in the distance off the damp walls. He’s so focused on the light at the end he doesn’t notice the movement in the shadows. At least, not until it’s too late.

A warm hand claps over Xisuma’s mouth, muffling any attempt for him to cry out. Another arm drags him into the darkness, and a wave of fear keeps Xisuma from trying to escape. A warm, low voice growls in his ear, full of menace. “You had your chance, now let the big kids play.”

“Tris, we’re just supposed to stop the guard, not-” A second, similar voice fractures through the darkness, and Xisuma notices a lock of pink hair, bright against the stone wall.

“I’m Nightshade!” The one holding Xisuma snaps, loosening his grip on him. “Do you want half the city to know who we are?”

Xisuma manages to wriggle free, and instead the twin faces wrestle each other into the water. Tackling and pulling hair, calling each other names that grow louder and louder. Loud enough for the other hermits to find them.

Stress realizes who she’s looking at first. “King Sor?”

“What am I, chopped liver?” one of the two growls, his blue scarf soaked.

“The king?” Tango splutters, snapping his fingers. A flame appears in his hand, and he raises it higher. Sure enough, wrestling in the muck and mud of the swampwater was the King of Lairyon and his twin brother. Yin and yang, dark and light. Their tan skin and rainbow hair- though the king’s much brighter- was instantly recognizable, even if the all white and black suits weren’t enough.

Grand Advisor Tris, currently holding King Sor in a headlock, glares at the hermits. “Do you mind?”

“We are in the middle of something.” Sor adds, looking at their audience as he grabs hold of Tris’s fingers and yanks.

“What are you-” Xisuma starts, confusion clouding his prerogative. Why is the Twin King, monarch of Lairyon, in the canals beneath his own city, tackling his brother and arguing over codenames? Xisuma shakes his head, trying to avoid the fact that he’s standing in front of the king. “Where did he go? My brother?”

“Where’s Doc?” BDubs adds, bouncing from foot to foot. They have to find their friend. Is he still alive? What do the kings want with a criminal? Why all this, when King Sor has more power than even Dolios?

“Three lefts then a right, there’s a staircase carved into the wall. It’ll take you to-” Sor has gained the upper hand, sitting on top of Tris, but the advisor isn’t afraid to kick his brother into silence.

“You are, by far, the worst spy ever.” Tris hisses, but the hermits leave the twins to their squabble in the sewer. Following Sor’s directions, they wind through the secret caves, Tango, Grian, Ren, and Iskall illuminating the darkness. Jevin can’t help but think about when they first began this journey, way back in Gildara. How they wandered dark, wet caves like this. Only to become enraptured into something so much bigger than they could ever have known.

But rather than a corrupted crystal at the end of this dive, they find the carved steps Sor had mentioned.

They also find the trail of blood up the rough hewn stairs. Every step up is slick with the ochre, a different size and shape from the one before. At the top of the stairs, a hatch remains closed. Xisuma presses up against the metal hatch, but finds it too heavy to lift. Looking up, he notices a symbol burnt into the metal.

Ex still uses their shared mark. Even after their estrangement, the swirl and the star remain easily visible. Not like how Xisuma scratched it off everything he owned. “It’s blocked. Stress?”

“Not a problem, dearie.” The ice mage squeezes her small, limber body between Xisuma and TFC, rolling up her sleeves. Without even breaking a sweat, she forces the hatch open. Light blinds them for a second time, though this much softer than before. Lamplight, enough to illuminate the wooden building, but still soft enough to cast shadow. A chest full of books has been tossed aside, the rug covering the hidden hatch flipped over.

The hermits crawl out, like an army of ants from the seams in the wood, filling the small bookstore. Ex’s arrival surprises no one, and neither does the twenty something mages in his bookshop. The twin brother of Xisuma looks up, purple eyes meeting the hermits. A lock of pure white hair covers over one eye, and the red fabric of the cloak covers Ex from the nose down. But even with his face covered, the hermits can see the discontent in his expression.

“He’s in the back. I’d… I’d be prepared.” Ex’s voice remains low and tempered, a bit deeper than Xisuma’s own. He turns away, running fingers across the shelves of books around him, before pulling free an encyclopedia of medicines.

Scar doesn’t wait, bursting through the curtain into Ex’s living quarters. He follows the trail of ash and blood, until he stops dead. The other hermits crowd in behind him, desperate to see their friend. For a week, he’s been in jail. Just being able to be in the same room was a blessing.

Doc was rested on a cot, bandages covering his legs, his arms, his chest, his face. Blackened skin beneath white gauze. He lays still, eyes closed, clothes in burnt tatters. For a minute, everyone holds their breath, waiting to see Doc breathe his own. When a shallow rise of his chest, followed by whisper of an exhale, escapes from the puppeteer, relief floods the hermits.

Doc is alive. Hanging on by a thread, but alive. Scar grabs Grian, yanking him to the front and shoving him into the room. “Fix him!”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Grian may be rivals with Doc, but they’re still friends. Family. He walks across the silent room, each step a loud creak through the wooden building. The hermits follow in after, a concave audience watching, hoping for a miracle.

Grian’s eyes begin to glow, and another set of wings appear from his back, and another. A halo rings above Grian’s blond hair, sharp shafts of light piercing the air around him. The archangel kneels beside Doc, lost in the overwhelming power of his magic. A mere pass of his hand over the unconscious criminal begins to heal him. An angelic miracle, Grian simply brushes a wing, and it eases the blackened burns across their friend.

Doc’s breathing deepens, though he doesn’t wake. Brought back from the brink, from the precipice of death. Mumbo carefully sidles up beside Grian, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Grian, you can let go of your aura.”

The soothing voice does the trick, as light fades and wings disappear. Grian’s exhausted but forces the glow and sleep from his eyes to see his success. Doc was alive. Doc was stable.

Doc was safe, with his family again.

Ex appears in the doorway, hands full of books, potions, herbs, and crystals. But when he sees his patient, no longer bleeding out and struggling to hang on for dear life. He looks at Doc, then Grian, then Xisuma. Dropping his armful of supplies, he waves his hand. “You really have one of everything, don’t you?”

Xisuma takes a deep breath. He hasn’t spoken a word to Ex in years. What does he say, after so long? What does he tell him, or yell at him, or cry to him? But only one word manages to escape from X’s lips, through his mask. “Thanks.”

The word surprises both twins, blinking back in surprise. Ex’s lips press into a thin line, and he turns his head away. A white ponytail of hair cascades over his shoulder. “Never say I didn’t do anything for you, brother.”

“Xisuma, this is your brother?” Keralis questions. They were almost identical twins, in fact. From the structure of their face, the intensity in their eyes. The only difference between the two was Ex’s snow white hair. Hell, they even had them both in ponytails.

“If he still considers me a brother.” Ex snips, picking up the mess on the floor and carefully placing the books in a stack.

“I thought you said getting into things would only lead to trouble.” Xisuma looks down at his friend, then to Ex.

“And by the looks of it, I was right.”

“But you saved Doc. You used your magic in front of half the city, to save him from burning at the stake.” Xisuma shakes his head, still in disbelief. “Why?”

Ex stops moving, going silent. His shoulder tense forward, until his head drops. “Because he means so much to you. You may not consider me a brother, but I still care about you. Whether or not this disaster could have been avoided, we’re all in on it now.”

“We?” Cub picks up on Ex’s words, raising an eyebrow. Of course, there were the royals, but he also remembers the water magic appearing from nowhere, the cactus growing from the woodwork, the black wings in the smoke.

Ex snorts. “What, you think you guys have been this lucky the whole time? That it was only you idiots taking on the magistrate?”

He turns, walking out of the room. Assuming the hermits will follow. He assumed correctly. Only a few stay behind to keep watch over Doc, the others squeezing through the aged wooden shop, up the rickety stairs and into a dining room.

They aren’t alone. Inside, three people are sitting. One with short brown hair, cropped to the side and laying on the top of the table, earthy colored clothes and scarves wrapped around her. Sitting crosslegged in the seat is a small kipling, rocking in place with curious eyes as he looks upon the large group entering into Ex’s study. Finned ears flick against black and orange locks, a slight glow appearing under the kipling’s clothes in the dark room. And in the corner, perched on the flat booth’s backrest, a blonde mane drapes around a serious face, and a pair of jet black wings rustle against the wooden walls.

The last faces they expected to see were those of the Wanderers.

“Red? Ecto?” Zedaph tips his head to the side, surprised. The last time they saw the three of them, it was before the labyrinth challenge. When the hermits celebrated with Team Crafted, they had already left. Disappeared just as fast as they appeared. And now, they’ve reappeared. Sitting in the middle of Ex’s kitchen, sipping on tea. As comfortable there as they were in that ratty old inn. ‘How do you guys know Xisuma’s brother?”

“It was you three who rescued Doc.” Scar whispers, his voice soft and almost reverent. Water, desert, and dragon.

“Ex approached us while you and Team Crafted were within the labyrinth. He told us about things we already had suspicion of, but no connected dots.” Avon tips her head back, looking down her nose at the hermits. “We decided the best way we could help Lairyon was to cause as much nuisance to the magistrate as possible, as well as handle certain missions.”

“This entire time, you were helping us?” Xisuma turns, looking at his brother. They’re the exact same height, purple eyes locked in some years long argument.

Ex snorts. “What, you think you idiots did that all on your own? But it wasn’t just the wanderers that have been helping. Team Crafted has had their hand in this underground rebellion as well. Turns out, they make a lot of trouble all over the place for the arcane guard to deal with, as well as encourage people to tell their stories and speak out against the magistrate.”

“But then that leaves…” Mumbo trails off, and he turns around at the sound of bickering behind them. Sure enough, the twin rulers are still arguing over their codenames. Mumbo bows, his hands shaking as he remembers all the rules he was taught when in presence of the king.

King Sor presses one hand over his twin’s mouth to shut him up, and uses the other to wave off Mumbo’s bow. “Please, there’s no-” Sor’s interrupted when Tris retaliates, licking his hand. The king curses, rubbing the spit on his white outfit. “You’re disgusting, brother.”

“Go on, finish the story. Don’t forget to tell them who’s idea it was to reach out to the mysterious white haired man with connections to Eremita.” Tris scoots in beside Red, and Ecto pours tea for the royal advisor.

“It was Tris’s idea to contact Ex. I honestly don’t know how he found out about him, but he’s been the conductor of it all. We help fund in any way we can, and he does the research before sending the wanderers and Team Crafted to play support roles.” King Sor doesn’t look like the man the hermits are used to seeing. The king, the ruler of Lairyon. He’s thriving with people, just another person, another friend.

“But...you’re the king. Why can’t you just depose of Dolios?” Beef questions, the confusion in his voice matched by all of the hermits. Only Ex and the wanderers act as if this was evident.

They expected Sor to answer, being the king, but with a loud crash of a metal teacup against the wooden table, all attention is turned to Tris. “That monster, that....bastard has been using us all against Sor. Especially me.” Tris grits his teeth hard, jaw tight and set. “You’re too damn soft, Sor.”

“Soft?! Tris, he was going to kill you!” Sor gasps, tears beginning to streak from teal eyes, across tanned cheeks. His breath hiccups and catches in his throat. “Dolios made sure he had control over everything, including me. In order to do that, he… he tortured Tris. My brother. Threatened both our families. Hurt our closest friends in the royal guard. Sometimes… I had no choice but to let it happen. The things he would have done to the kingdom were so much worse but...at what cost? Did I make the right decision, letting him do that to my own brother?”

Sor’s knees fall out from under him, and in the aged wooden floor of a bookstore, the King of Lairyon is brought to kneel. Tears fall, all he’s been forced to endure breaking down. And the hermits, despite hardly knowing King Sor, understand and sympathize with him all the same. His family is at risk, the same way their own is. Dolios will stop at nothing to tear both families apart, all for his gain and rise to power.

Red clambers over Tris’s lap, breaking every taboo and rite to approach the king. She runs over, and hugs the king tight and close. A warm hug, like a mother’s embrace, just enough to calm down the monarch. Such a young man, forced to make so many horrible decisions. After a moment, the king recollects himself. Through puffy, tearstained eyes, he looks to the hermits. “Lairyon needs a hero. There are no chosen ones, there is no prophecy. No knights in shining armor, no kings and our awesome power. This time, the heroes need to be made. And you, the Order of Hermits, were the brave souls to choose to be heroes.”

“Dolios is using his darkness to gain power. After what you dealt with, we were sure you’d give up.” Tris adds, standing and placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Now, the scars on the royal advisor’s body are clear as day. “But you really are the heroes that will bring back the Light of Lairyon.”

Silence falls over the room. The hermits, heroes? Just for wanting to help, to do what no one else knew to do? They were caught up in all of this, and multiple times death waited to claim them- if Dolios had his way. They weren’t heroes, just people who chose to fight back. Who chose to make the stand.

“Dark magic isn’t new.” Ex breaks the silence, hefting a massive, ancient book onto the table. The wood rocks, dumping Avon off it and into Ecto’s lap. “There have been insurgences all throughout history, though the past thousand years have been relatively quiet. Unfortunately about that, almost all information how the dark magic was defeated has been… lost to time. To make matters worse, no reported insurgence has ever been so prolific as this time around.”

“Alright, how does this help with anything?” Xisuma rolls his eyes. His brother always has such a flair for the dramatics, always getting way too deep into history and his books. Next to the massive tome that Ex is flipping through, Avon stops pestering Ecto. She goes still, even when the desert wizard dumps her onto the floor. A look of fear spreads from her eyes, rippling like a drop of water across a lake.

“Well, if this happened before with the ancient ones, then it’s likely the answer may lie with the history of Lairyon itself. Perhaps if you-” Ex is interrupted when a massive black pair of wings extends, one smacking him in the face.

“The spirit dragons are in danger.”

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanfic #light of lairyon #wizard au #wizard hermits #lol #wizard grian #wizard ex #wizard doc #wizard scar #wizard bdubs #wizard etho #grianmc #evil xisuma #docm77 #gtwscar #bdoubleo100 #ethoslab

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gffa · 4 years

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I HAVE STRUGGLED WITH THIS CHARACTER SO MUCH, but I think rereading The Rise of Kylo Ren all at once, as well as the final issue, plus the Age of Resistance - Supreme Leader Snoke and Age of Resistance - Kylo Ren issues (and a bit of the TLJ novelization), have at least somewhat coalesced this character for me. The burning question with Ben Solo has always been: Why? Why did he not tell anyone about Snoke talking to him in this comic? Why didn’t he go to his mother, whom he knew still loved him? Why did he embrace the dark side? None of this had ever really been addressed in the canon itself, it was all down to speculation, but nothing I felt I could connect to what we were actually being given with any real solidity in the canon. And issue #4 definitely still feels a little wobbly to me, but I think it at least strung up some connective tissue for me. In rereading the first issue, I was back to: Why doesn’t Ben go to his mother? If he didn’t attack the school (which I’m not sure how clear it is what he did/didn’t have to do with it, if it truly was Snoke who did it, how much Ben was aware of it, how much of a hand he played in all of this, certainly it makes the timing of the destruction of the Temple INCREDIBLY coincidental if it was Snoke’s plan AND it was the night Luke and Ben fought), if he knows his parents love him (which Age of Resistance - Supreme Leader Snoke [x][x] shows that he does, he literally goes into the same cave as Luke did to show him his fears, the only thing in there is what he brought with him and he sees Luke saying he doesn’t want to fight, which means Ben knows this is true even if he doesn’t want to admit it[x], as well as the TLJ novelization has him knowing that his mother still loves him and he’s angry about it, as well as TFA itself has him not at all surprised that Han’s there to help him and bring him home, even in TLJ he’s snarling about how, oh, is Luke here to save his soul, say Luke forgives him?, which shows that he knows that Luke regrets it and cared about him)--anyway, I’m getting distracted, there’s a lot to go over! If he didn’t attack the school, if he didn’t want this, why did he run from Leia as much as anyone? In rereading the issue, there’s an interesting flashback that’s place right in the middle of the droid asking Ben where he wants to go, where he’s thinking about his mother and he hesitates. I didn’t really pay attention to the timing the first time because it felt like just a cool dramatic moment to show further flashbacks. But looking for the trends I know Soule is capable of and so often puts in his writing, it struck me that the flashback was specifically set on Luke yelling, “Ben, no!” and Luke in the ruins of the Temple and Ben saying, “I didn’t want this!” [x][x][x] Thus, I’m left to conclude that he didn’t go to her because he himself couldn’t face her, couldn’t look at all of this storm inside him and find a way out of it. And I think that’s the thing--in reading this issue all at once, it really jumped out at me that the central theme of this comic was about the path people choose in their lives. That there’s an undercurrent of a legacy to live up to, but that that’s just window dressing for a deeper issue--in that Ben Solo doesn’t know what his path is. On one side, he has a huge legacy to live up--the man he was named for, this larger than life great Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, he never even met him, he hates the name he was given, Ben. He hates the name Solo as well, because it’s a made up name, it’s not real, it’s a lie. [x][x] This contradiction is fascinating, because he’s named through two different aspects--one, a legacy, and two, a chosen name. Ben Solo hates the legacy name just as much as he hates the name Han Solo created for himself! So the idea that he’s creating his real persona for himself, when he stops being a Jedi and goes to Snoke, is directly contradicted by how much he hates the chosen name, that he says it’s a lie. As if Kylo Ren isn’t a lie he’s hurtling himself towards, too. Neither of these really seem to be the true problem, for all that they’re genuine things that anger Ben. In the final issue, he does tell Tai, "Even my name isn't a choice. The dark side and the light side both claimed me for their own the moment I was born. Do you know how that feels? Whether it's Luke Skywalker or Snoke, neither one sees me as a person. I'm just a... legacy. Just a set of expectations." The thing is, Ben Solo is not a reliable narrator. He talks one minute about how the light and the dark are warring over him, even Ren comments on how he’s been fighting this every step of the way, you don’t really want to live in the shadow. “I am the shadow,” Ben replies.[x] He is trying so hard to shove himself onto some path, any path that he thinks will soothe him. The most emotional part of the issue (or at least one of them) is Tai’s pleading speech to him, the conversation that’s been threaded throughout the entire issue about how you choose your path. Choice is arguably the most important theme of Star Wars, and we see that very clearly in Tai’s conversations with him. Even in the previous issue, he tells Ben that he keeps himself locked up too tight, he’s not really being himself.[x] Ben’s recounting of who Voe is (the other important foil for Ben’s character in this comic) is woven together with how he thinks she never really learned to be herself, rather than measuring herself again him.[x] Ren, in their very first meeting, says, hey, you know there are other paths, right? [x] On Elphrona, Voe says he must face justice, and Ben shouts back, “You think I’m a murderer, Voe? Is that what you want me to be!?”[x] Tai’s big speech to him in the previous episode is all about, be who you are, which is another way of saying, “Find the path you’re supposed to be on.”[x] Tai’s words to Voe on Elphrona are also, “[Ben] thinks [the Knights of Ren] can help him find his true path.”[x] And of course, all of the above. Paths and choices and being who you truly are, that Ben Solo couldn’t figure out any of these things for himself. That he didn’t really want to be a Jedi (and that’s fine, it’s not the path for everyone) and we see, we see that he could have chosen otherwise, that Tai offers him a chance to actually walk away from all of it and just go help people, we see the hesitation there before Ren kills Tai and Ben makes his choice. Because he may not feel like he had any choices, but Tai showed that he absolutely did. Even when he truly falls into the dark--so completely that a multitude of people feel it, Leia, Snoke, Rey, Palpatine, they all sense it--it’s framed around the idea of, “I’m not anyone special, so I can do what I want.”

All of this coalesced for me into two things, especially once I added in other Ben Solo appearances in canon--this is someone who has no strong sense of self or the path he’s meant to be on, so he just sort of careens wildly from one bad choice to the next, each time hoping that it’ll feel like the right path, rather than doing the really hard work of looking inside himself and not just locking everything up into a little box. And, two, he is further trying to gain that sense of self through others. Even when he’s not fully aware of it, he keeps walking the same paths they do--like on Dagobah, when he goes into the same cave Luke did, to face his inner fears, he’s walking the same path his uncle did.[x] When he’s offered a choice, when Tai asks him to come back, if you want, you can absolutely read that glowy red backdrop as being similar to Anakin’s fight with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. And certainly, given that Soule was the one to write Darth Vader bleeding his kyber crystal, we can draw parallels between that and Kylo Ren bleeding his:

And that’s one of the things that the character keeps coming back to--and it’s a huge theme for Ben Solo, that he’s constantly being compared to Vader, by others and by himself. Sure, part of it is that I assume that’s just how bleeding a kyber crystal goes, but the parallels between Kylo and Vader (and thus between Anakin and Ben) do a lot to highlight the issues between them both, that we see TROKR’s visuals are echoing Dark Lord of the Sith’s scene, as Kylo is very defined by Vader in an out-of-universe meta way. But also within the universe, he keeps comparing himself to Vader and is compared to Vader by others, because that’s kind of the point, that it’s not just too much power in an unstable person (though, that, too) or that they were born evil (no, they weren’t), but that they both couldn’t really look at themselves or the choices set before them, to either actually commit to the path they were on or to find another one. That they both were still loved even after their fall. That they both had people pleading with them to make a better choice. "Leave [the mask]. I said leave it! You cannot hide behind a mask here. You cannot pretend to be Vader in this place,” Snoke says is Age of Resistance - Supreme Leader Snoke [x] “This is where I will succeed. ...where Vader failed,” says Kylo Ren in Age of Resistance - Kylo Ren. [x] “There’s too much Vader in him,” Han says in The Force Awakens. “A new Vader. Now I fear... I was mistaken. Take that ridiculous [mask] off,” Snoke says, not long before Kylo smashes the mask to pieces, in The Last Jedi. It’s contradicted by Kylo’s theme of, “Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to.” in TLJ, but it’s pretty par for the course with him, where he careens back and forth between one decision one moment and another the next, that he still has no idea what his true path is meant to be. So much of his character was patterned off of Darth Vader, both in universe and out of universe, it seems only fitting that he, like his grandfather before him, has no real sense of self or the willingness to look within himself to find what that path really is, whether it means actually committing to the Jedi path and understanding yourself and working to let go of your fears, or whether it’s finding a path away from the Jedi. And both of them felt like their power must be used for something. "[We're going to] some planet called Elphrona. All this way to find some old junk Master Luke will lock away in his temple and never use. [....] He's an amazing teacher, very strong. I've learned so much from him... but he never seems to want to let me use any of it."[x] Ultimately, at the end of it, it seems like Ben Solo was someone who didn’t really know what he wanted out of his life and so he kept looking for the thing that would finally make him feel like it was the right path, except he kept looking to those outside himself to figure that out, whether to reject what he thought they were making him into or to use them as a measuring stick to define himself, and the only sliver of it that he ever seemed to find was when he finally stopped trying to force everything to make sense and focused on someone else for what he could do for them, instead of himself.

#ben solo #comics #meta #reading comics: the rise of kylo ren #wednesday spoilers #long post

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potahun · 4 years

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Favorite “Wo Men De Ge” Performances, all groups and match-ups included.

No ranking. Just faves.

“Yan Hua Yi Leng | Fireworks Cool Easily”, by Liu Yuning x Xiao Gui (Wang Linkai)

“The rain drizzles softly. In my hometown, the trees and grass grow deep” -- completely overlooked this performance at first. it starts off kind of plain and then gets weirdly intense in the last 1min and now it won’t get out of my head. hmm

“Tian Xia You Qing Ren | Lovers In The World”, by Qin Shen Shen (Li Keqin x Zhou Shen)

“Love is one cycle after another, one reincarnation after another, no matter whether in the southeast or the northwest; love is part after part, thread after thread of rights and wrongs, rendering lovers forever unable to say ‘see you again’.”

legit shouldn’t even have tried to translate this literally but you know what this shit is about. You’ve seen it. It fucks things up.

“Carmen”, by Mei Nan Zi (Fei Yuqing x Li Keqin x Zhou Shen x Xu Weizhou)

“Men are but a pastime, nothing impressive.” ----- Four “handsome men” sing about love and men being pastimes and dance dorkily to music with a cabaret feel. what’s not to love?? also 2 of them didn’t get the memo that it’s not a performance in duos and cant stop showing off their duo’s chemistry. just kidding. unless

“Xin Yuan Yang Hu Die Meng + Shi Ren De Lü Tu | New Butterfly Dream + A Poet’s Journey“, by Yun Dan Feng Qing (Fei Yuqing x Ayanga)

“Should we understand at once, or should we pretend not to? Knowing a lot or knowing little, what is difficult is to know when to be satisfied.”

I had to listen to this again to remember why I liked it and mmm. fuck. mhm. yeah. good. Also, I cannot translate this. Sorry. I tried.

“Meng Xing Shi Fen | Dream to Awakening”, by Ren Xianqi x Xiao Gui (Wang Linkai)

“You’ve known from the start that sadness would be hard to avoid; why fall so deeply? Because love is always hard to give up, hard to part with... Why still care about that little bit of warmth? You have to know that sadness is always hard to avoid, in that moment from dream to awakening. There are some things you don’t have to ask now, and people you never have to wait for.”

Aside from it being super funny in context, this performance is also close to my heart because it’s one of my all. time. favorite. songs.

“Na Pian Hai + Ting Hai | That Sea + Listen to the Sea”, by Qin Shen Shen (Li Keqin x Zhou Shen)

“Let us forget that sea, let us start over again in the next life. Let us, time after time, life after life, never separate again”

This one gets the prize of the most seamless mixing of two songs into one.

“Xin Tai Ruan | Too Soft-Hearted”, by Jie Tou Pai Dang (Ren Xianqi x Liu Yuning)

“Falling in love is always easy, but getting along is too difficult. If it’s not yours, don’t force it anymore” -- hnnnnnnggg in the category “songs with amazing lyrics that are always relevant at some point and timelessly too good”.

“Xin Ru Dao Ge | Like A Knife To The Heart”, by Qin Shen Shen (Li Keqin x Zhou Shen)

“I’ve really loved for you, you’ve really left with him. All I could give, I gave it. I can take everything, except letting you know... that I feel like my heart has been pierced with a knife”

-- HAHA this is the worst translation I’m sry. Anyways, the musical arrangement is hard because there are no beats for almost the whole song and when you’re harmonising without some beats or rhythm it’s hell and yet. yet. this is the harmonising kings duo, baby. oh yeah.

“Ai Jiang Shan Geng Ai Mei Ren | Loving the Beauty More Than Power”, by Jie Tou Pai Dang (Ren Xianqi x Liu Yuning)

“Red flowers go with green leaves, of course. But who will stay beside me in this lifetime? Elusively, we come and go. The feelings from the past resurface; the lotus breaks but its threads last. I sigh quietly. The world’s happenings bears many changes”

-- this song is literally impossible to translate properly, sorry, but it is one of my all-time favorites. Despite the simplicity of the stage and the changes in the song’s arrangement, as far as I'm concerned, these two truly captured its spirit of the song *chef’s kiss

“Ling Yi Zhong Xiang Chou | Another Kind of Homesickness”, by Fei Yuqing x Li Keqin x Zhou Shen

“Those clouds and trees; do not block the road to that hometown” - or as I like to call it: the harmonising trinity of death.

that gesture FYQ does at the end, when he drops his hand? my soul went down with it

“Qiu Niao | Prisoner Bird”, by Yun Dan Feng Qing (Fei Yuqing x Ayanga)

“I am but a shadow that you can do without as you please, coldly watching the way you look when you lie” - I didn’t initially count this in my faves. But the more I listen to it, the more I love it and now I LOVE it.

“Piao Yang Guo Hai Lai Kan Ni | Crossing the Sea to See You”, by Zhou Hua Jian x Ayanga

“For you I spent half a year of savings, crossing the sea to see you”. hnnnnnngggggg best. version. of. this. song. I've heard.

“Ni De Rou Qing Wo Yong Yuan Bu Dong | I Will Never Understand Your Tenderness”, by Luo Qi x Liu Yuning

“I do not want to make love too blurry. If you love, then love clearly.” -- hhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggggggg.

“Wo Ai Ta | I Love Him”, by Zhou Shen x Xu Weizhou

“We once leaned on each others’ shoulders. Now, we’re each drifting away in the sea of people”. -- 1) Very good. 2) Screamo? 3) Some kind of Nightwish-like opera singing that sounds very good.

“Qi Shi Bu Xiang Zou | In Truth, I Don’t Want To Leave”, by Yi Jian Qing Xin (Zhou Hua Jian x Jiang Yi Qiao)

- “The truth is, I don’t want to leave, the truth is, I want to stay. Stay and accompany you every spring, summer, autumn and winter...” -- this song can never go bad. Zhou Shen clapping with that slightly emotional look on his face, like he’s this close to crying? That’s me.

“Qian Li Zhi Wai | Beyond A Thousand Miles”, by Yun Dan Feng Qing (Fei Yuqing x Ayanga)

I send you beyond a thousand miles away, you’re soundless in black and white...”

This is not even part of the competition, but...you know.

“Tian Ya | The End of the Earth”, by Jie Tou Pai Dang (Ren Xianqi x Liu Yuning)

....I’m not going to translate it. I’m not even sure I fully get it. But boy, it’s so good.

One of the reasons I watched the whole show, actually. damn. dammmn.

“Ye Lang Disco”, by Qin Shen Shen (Li Keqin x Zhou Shen)

“On your left, draw a dragon with me, on your right, draw a rainbow.” ASKALKSLKDJSLKDA. Joy. In its purest, silliest form.

^bonus unsolicited qin shen shen pic, which illustrates how I feel about some of these performances. yup.

#wo men de ge #xiao zhan #zhou shen #ayanga #xiao gui #wang linkai #liu yuning #zhou hua jian #na ying #li keqin #ren xianqi #luo qi #fei yuqing #our song #it wouldnt be beyond me to add numbers to this as time goes by #but for now these are my faves #li ziting #Christopher wong

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jadegrey711 · 4 years

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Stolen

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

A/N: Another request from the lovely @thehappylittlehufflepuff but this time for a very dubious Vampire!Kylo Ren and how could I say no to something so intriguing.

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake.

🦇Warnings; It is technically Non-Con since she’s pretty much compelled the entire time, but like I said it’s a bit dubious as well. So, I’m just putting that out there. Also it’s got some stalker themes as well and some blood sex as well if that’s the proper term for it 😂😂

He had watched you for months now, ever since he first saw you, first smelt your delicious scent and the smell of your blood pumping through your veins. He was walking one cold night and saw you standing underneath a street corner and to his amazement when he came into the light, you smiled at him. You smiled as brightly as if you’d known him for all your life; a complete stranger and it would have taken his breath away if he had any.

From that moment on he knew you had to be his, his angel of the night, his dark queen, his, his, his eternally. And he would do anything to make that happen. But he knew that his interactions with humans were slight and knew that he’d easily scare you off so he waited until he found the perfect time to steal you away from the world of daylight and into his world of perpetual night.

****

The club was definitely not the kind of place you were used to. You barely went out to clubs at all but this place was beyond what you were used to. The people on the dance floor made you blushed as you watched them safely from your table, as they gyrated and practically fornicated on the dance floor. Your friend Jane who was the one who suggested you guys spice things up tonight by going to this club had left you for the dance floor where she was part of the gyrating mass. She tried inviting you to come join her in the fun but you weren’t having it, feeling completely out of place in the crowd filled with people dressed in black leather and a face full of piercings.

As you sipped slowly on your beer you were suddenly aware of a slight pressure on the back of your head, like a pair of eyes were drilling into the back of your head.

“See me.” A voice whispered in your head. “See me now.”

You looked around and then stopped, finding a pair of dark brown eyes belonging to a large man sitting at the bar, his posture indicating his wasn’t even trying to hide his staring, since even his chair was pointed in your direction. He was just bluntly staring at you with those intense dark eyes, you met his stare for only a moment before you felt a shiver crawl down the length of your spine, like a long nail raking down your back and sending a wave of shudders through your body, surprised at finding how hot your body felt.

You turned back to your beer and tried to nurse it but felt, those eyes never waver from you, feeling his intense stare heat your body even more. You turned to look back at him but suddenly he was gone. You looked around where he was at the bar, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Hello.” Said a voice to your left and you turned and jumped slightly in your seat as you saw your mystery man standing in front of your table.

“You scared me!” You said clutching your chest.

“I’m sorry.” He said with a small apologetic smile. “That’s the last thing I intended to do.”

You took him in in the silence that fell between you two. He was tall and broad, with dark silken hair that you felt a need to run your fingers through it over and over, you felt the compulsion so much that your fingers twitched.

“What’s your name?” You asked tentatively, not having noticed that he already sat down with you at your table.

“My name is Kylo. Kylo Ren.” He said, his voice deep and silken, feeling like a caress against your skin.

You smiled lightly. “My name is Y/N.” You said feeling blush creep all across your skin, heating you to an extraordinary temperature. When suddenly you felt his hand against your knee, he’d moved from his position in your booth to sitting right next to you.

“That’s a beautiful name, for a beautiful woman.” He purred, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your knee, building that heat higher with every gentle caress.

You didn’t know what had come over you, a cheesy pick up line like that would have had you taking your beer to the other side of the room. And his hand, it was climbing higher up your leg and you were letting him!

Kylo leaned in closer to you, his large hand now on your thigh, his thumb brushing just barely at your center and his nose was buried in your hair; taking deep inhales of you.

“Y/N.” He whispered your name with that same silken voice, making your head swim. “Come with me. Be with me, tonight; for all the nights.” He purred, his fingers finally making their way to your center and brushing against your through the fabric of your jeans.

You let out a small little moan, leaning your head into his, as his fingers, ran down your slit through your jeans, the friction building that heat ever higher in you. You didn’t know what you were doing only, that you wanted what he wanted, to be with him: be with him every night.

You turned your head to face Kylo, finding those dark eyes were glued to you, watching every moment as he inflicted this pleasure upon you: cast this spell upon you. But you didn’t care, you scanned down his face, seeing his large prominent nose and full kissable lips; you knew that your self preservation had gone completely out the window. Knowing this, you kissed him.

Kylo’s other hand pulled you closer to him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into you, as his hand fastened. He ate your moans through your kiss as you felt your climax coming on fast, and suddenly it was washing over you like a tidal wave.

He pulled away from your kiss and kissed at your neck, his plump lips pressed against your quickening pulse point, giving it a small kiss before he pulled away from you altogether.

You should have fought, should have resisted his pull, scream or shout for Jane or for anyone! But you didn’t; you let him take your hand in his cold, tight embrace as he pulled you from the booth, leading you to wherever he desired.

“Let’s go.” He said gruffly as he guided you out of the club, and into the night.

****

Kylo was quick as he stole you, taking you from the vast club and disappearing into the night with you, the both of you only a shadow to any passerby. You were so pliable under his influence, so soft. It took all of his restraint inside of the club when you came under his touch, not to sink his teeth into you right then and there.

And when you looked straight into his eyes and kissed him, letting his tongue explore you, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were made for him and he for you.

****

You didn’t know how you got here, only that you were here now and everything was fine because you were with Kylo. You know this because he told you, everything was fine and you believed him with all your heart.

You watched with anticipation as he crawled up the length of your body from the foot of the bed. Stopping just for a moment to lift up your shirt and kiss your stomach, making you bite your lip to keep the loud moan from escaping your lips.

“Don’t do that.” He said breathily, his face mere inches from yours as his nose brushed against yours, his lips slightly parted, his bottom lip brushing against your own. “Don’t keep silent Y/N I want to hear every little sound you make.” He said before his lips connected with yours, earning a low groan from the both of you, as he brushed his body against yours, feeling how broad and solid he is.

You reached around his neck and threaded your fingers through his silken black hair and gently pulled on it like you’ve been wanting to do since the moment you met him. Kylo let out an appreciative growl at your ministrations.

You felt Kylo’s large strong hands trace down the length of your body, letting him feel every groove and curve in your body as he made his way down to the top button of your jeans. He unbuttoned them, then guided the zipper down opening the top of your jeans for him to slip his hand inside, slipping past your underwear and between your folds.

You moaned into his mouth, and he watched you eagerly as he rubbed your folds with his calloused fingers; taking in every little scrunch of your face and the lovely sound of your heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Suddenly you whined as he pulled his hand from your pants and grabbed the top of your jeans and in one fluid motion, yanked your jeans off and threw them across the room.

You felt your heart jump at the amount of force he threw your pants. But all was forgotten as you felt his large hands on the back of your knees and Kylo swiftly pulled you so your butt was pressed against his knees and your knees were pressed against his chest.

You watched eagerly as his fingers grabbed the top of your underwear and unlike how he took off your pants, he took off your underwear slowly, sensually, letting your legs lift up, until he slowly removed your underwear and tossed it along with your pants: leaving you bare to him.

He held onto one of your legs and started kissing down your leg until he got to your inner thigh then just as you moved your hips up just a fraction he pulled away, putting your leg down and moved to kiss you next leg. Never increasing his pace as he kissed your leg, although he had to calm himself drastically as he felt the pulse of your femoral artery against his lips as he kissed your inner thigh.

He had to stop himself from the flood of images that formed in his mind. Of you moaning and screaming his name as he sank his teeth into your leg, devouring you in a whole other way than he was already planning to. He felt himself grow hard at the image of you watching him as he fed from you. Watching you get off on it, but Kylo could wait for that for now.

You watched as he placed your leg down, before he took his hands and traced down your legs, until he got to your knees and spread you out even more for him. You could practically feel yourself humming with anticipation as he lowered himself so he was level with your center.

“Please.” You whined so softly you thought Kylo wouldn’t hear it, but Kylo did hear your plea and smiled.

“As you wish.” He smirked and you felt that flutter in your stomach again, and before you knew it his mouth was on you, his tongue flattened and licking a strip up from vulva to clit. You gasped out lifting your hips off the bed, but Kylo was quick, as he placed a heavy arm over your stomach keeping you grounded to the bed.

You threw your head back as Kylo devoured you; circling your clit with lavished licks, and kisses before he sucked harshly on it; earning him a delicious sounding cry fro you as you tried to lift your hips again.

Kylo chuckled. “Your not going anywhere, princess.” He mumbled against your folds sending a delicious vibration through you. And somewhere deep down you knew that he meant that, and not just for right now either, it meant something more.

Kylo moaned as you dug your fingers into hair, pulling harshly as he pushed his tongue last your entrance, gaining another beautiful moan from you followed by a yank of hair.

“Oh Kylo. I’m so close, please don’t stop.” You said, head pressed so hard against the pillows as he devoted himself to you. He could worship you like this for hours, days and the image of you doing this to him or doing it to each other for hours on end; he felt himself grow feral with unchained passion.

He knew now that he would do anything for you. He would give you anything you desired, he’d fulfill every little whim that crossed your mind, and he would kill and dispatch anyone of your choosing.

Kylo looked up at your face scrunched in pleasure, as he pressed a finger inside of you, his tongue returning back to your clit and as he watched you writhe under him he imagined you as an immortal like him. Watching as you hunted and fed from your prey seeing the bloodlust glaze over your eyes as you gave into your most darkest desires.

He knew now he couldn’t keep it together anymore, he had to have you now. Before your orgasm could edge you over, Kylo pulled away and before you had time to complain about the loss of contact; Kylo buried himself inside you in one swift motion.

You screamed in ecstasy as you felt him fill you, and stretch you so deliciously. He gave no time for you to adjust before he pulled out and slammed back into you again and again.

You cried out, holding onto him and clawing the hell out of his back as you felt you orgasm building with a frightening speed of a freight train. Kylo kissed you deeply as he pounded into you, edging you both over the edge faster, needing to feel you clench around him as he brought you over that edge.

He was so close now, and he could tell you were too, but the thundering in your veins. Kylo pulled away from your lips to kiss your neck as he felt your orgasm were close, so close. He kissed your neck hungrily, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself with your blood singing to him like that.

And as your orgasms crashed and washed over the both of you, he didn’t. He sank his teeth into your neck, earning a cry from you, as he still pounded into you, riding out your high as long as possible as he fed on you. You had tasted like everything he’d thought you’d be, and it took him all of his might to detach himself from you, kissing the wound softly as your orgasms both died down.

Kylo’s soft hair fanned your face as you tried to catch your breath from the most mind blowing fucking of your life.

Kylo pulled out of you and plopped to your side, pulling you to him so, your body was constantly brushing against his. You reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear.

“That, was amazing.” You breathed, and Kylo watched you, taking in every minute feature on your face and studying the flecks in your eyes.

“It’ll be like this forever.” He said softly playing with a piece of your hair. “It’ll be just you and me for all time now, Y/N. You are mine.” He growled the last part softly and once again you felt that his words were true and didn’t hold some false meaning. No. Kylo Ren meant every word that he said and when he said that you were his; he meant it.

There would be no escaping this man, and suddenly you had an overwhelming feeling that you had been so caught up in the storm that was Kylo Ren, you forgot how you even got here. Or where here even was.

#kylo ren x reader #vampire x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo x reader #kylo x you #kylo ren imagines #kylo ren oneshots #star wars imagines #star wars oneshots #vampire x you #jade tries writing #smutty smut smut #jade takes requests #dubious content #vampire! kylo ren

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punkandsnacks · 4 years

Text

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Twelve; Storm.

Author: @punk-in-docs & @adamsnackdriver

Also on AO3-

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: !!! illness and swooning in this chapter, I mean, seriously, a regency era fic isn’t a regency era fic without the heroine getting caught in a rainstorm-!!!

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

She’d never been more grateful to slam a door behind her in all her life. The sigh that leaves her lips when she presses her back to the wood is the largest she’s ever taken, she’s certain of it.

She had to escape. It was a necessity of sorts- she couldn’t suffer another second of it.

Mother was livid about last night. Iris had been frozen out of her favour - more so than usual - with frosty silences and glowers and glares of displeasure.

When she returned from her shocking interlude out of doors with Lord Ren and the sadly ex-Viscount Eversleigh, Caroline tugged Iris aside and snapped her ear off about decorum and politesse. She returned to Hux’s side and said naught. She couldn’t.

Her mind was overrun by visions of crimson stained fangs, scarlet on ivory bone. And eye’s as gold as wheat sparkling in the sun.

She barely felt the rest of her night. Or saw or heard her relatives around her. She drew into herself.

Lord Ren did not return for the second half. Hux crowed loudly and smug about his absence. Mother sneered, she too seemed pleased. Iris saw none of that.

The night passes and the next day her head is still splitting at the seams. Pain thudding behind her temples and out her ears. Her throat is tickling raw. She suspects a cold coming on. Yet she goes about her chores and errands same as usual. There’s a permanent gnawing ache gathering between her shoulder blades. It burns every time she moves.

Mother seemed determined to remind her of her discourtesy last night. When her, Flora and Posy all sit down to take tea in the front parlour and do their embroidery, Caroline besieged Iris to write a missive to Hux apologising for her conduct of late. To explain herself and her actions. Sacrificing, displaying herself out on the worshipping altar of Hux’s forgiveness.

Iris couldn’t see the sense in it. She’s sat there squinting down in her lap, trying to focus on stitching more infernal thread through the embroidery hoop. Her mother is snapping and fussing and correcting her every cursed move. She’s insulting and sniping and Iris can’t take much more.

She was most insulted that Lord Ren had quit the theatre early especially when he was invited at a proxy invitation. She scoffs that that’s his foreign mannerisms that don’t excuse his rudeness. Probably took off with one of the ‘actresses.’ They were all painted women. He most likely found amusement between a tawdry, painted woman’s thighs.

Iris’s heart sinks at the untrue insinuation. She’s also suffering after a very much sleepless night after the discovery of Lord Rens... particular disposition.

She spent half the night awake; her mind whirring with thought. All those tales and fibs she’d been fed as child about monsters under the bed. And here she is many many years later, as a woman, finding out that all the creatures in clawing dark nightmares do exist.

The darkest shadows do after all bear beasts.

She can’t help wondering what other demons might roam hereabouts? Other horrid things too frightful to utter.

Mother doesn’t stop her poisonous crusade of nastiness on Kylo.

Before long, Iris’ eyes are watering with the sharp pains of her head. Her heart is beating so hard it hurts - thrumming proud with the constrained want to defend Lord Ren as she sits there ripping him to shreds and goading Hux’s perfect conduct upon her.

Iris throws her needlework aside and storms out. Insists she going for a lie down. She tears across the room and shuts the parlour door. Hot tears dribble out the corners of her eyes. Stings at her skin.

She stands there- and as she does, looking into the foyer, right at the coatrack. Her need to flee is looking better and better.

She dons her bonnet and shabby coat and before she can fully know what she’s doing, before she can even stop herself, she’s going. She needs actions and she needs fresh air. Much good a walk would do her. She slips down to the kitchens and is out the back door before even a kindly warning from their nice natured cook could halt her actions.

They heard Caroline’s vile shouts and screeches. Slamming of doors. And now they see her fleeing in tears. It wasn’t any grand difficulty to piece together all that had passed.

Iris wanted to slam doors. To hit things with her balled up fists. To kick and claw and scream about how much her suffocating life was mauling all capacity for happiness out her. She wants to rip things apart til her fingers bleed. Til her bones ache.

As it stands, her neck hurts with the strain of her clenched tight teeth, grit hard. Her back is shuddering with pinched complaint. She hardly comprehends how enraged she is; how fast her legs are stalking her away into the gardens. Up into the woods.

Her throat is raw and her head is pounding. She shouldn’t be out of doors in a thin dress and coat and in her sorry state. But staying in that wretched parlour was not an option.

She’s so préoccupée she doesn’t even turn her head to look at the wicked sky churning behind her storming path. The weather upon the horizon was turning most foul indeed.

The air above the wood is heavy and dark. Black as a fresh bruise. It fully pierced the sky’s colour. The wind whips viciously cold and that’s how she knows rain is lurking not far off. Everything is so still and the woods are damp with snow that the rain will pelt away. This was the deep breath before the plunge. The whole landscape is waiting. Perching on a razors edge.

Every tree is poised and even the birds have quieted. It’s as if every creature has fled from the threat of the violent storm. Iris is the only one oblivious.

She treads on onto the woods. Needing distance. Needing quiet. Needing to hear nothing and feel nothing but her feet shaking from her footsteps pounding the dirty damp earth. Sinking into the leaves and the mush and crunch of the foliage on the woodland floor.

She wants to move and flee and be somewhere else where she doesn’t feel so crushed.

Her lungs heave dry where she’s running and gasping for breath. Throat sore with the cold air. Chest ice cold from where she hasn’t buttoned up her coat. She feels everything burning at her skin. Making her clammy where the icy winds scrape over her as she soldiers on.

She lets the surroundings soothe her. Tries to let the calm of peaceful woodland soak into her mind. Let it pierce the tempest of her quaking soul. The meat and tissue of her flesh that feels like she’s being ripped apart piece by piece. She feels gouged and compressed by all the pressure she’s under. It’s too much. She thought she could bear it nobly but she’s not strong-her back is breaking.

She crumbles into the nearest tree. Let’s it take her weight and keep her standing.

She tears off her infernal bonnet and jams her brow against the wood. Taking deep lungfuls of air spiced with the fragrances of the wood. Wet bark, dewy sweet grass and the mucky mud of earthy leaves rotting under the grip of domineering snow.

She feels her breath ghost out her lips. Feels it chill and dry her parched mouth. She lets more tears fall. Just for a second. Before she has to button up her coat and return to her trap of a life. Shut the sweet song-dove back into their dismal stifling little birdcage.

That’s when she feels it- a raindrop.

It pats heavily down upon her head. Cold and harsh like a sudden strong bee sting, out of nowhere.

She presses a hand to the tree and looks to the heavens. Where all is smoke black and dismal grey. Clouds seethe and roil up above the treetops. Raindrops shimmer between the tall trees. Iris feels more patter down. Striking down her cheek. A stab of rolling ice. More follow it.

She looks across the woods as the patters turn to downpours. The clouds part like a cracked grey eggshell and the heavens pour and flood out.

Chilling heavy rain now hammers everywhere around her. In her hasty fit to get away from home, between the blurred nature of her tears and her looking down, she doesn’t entirely realise she has walked herself miles.

Miles upon miles- she’s almost in the next county even. She’s in the tall dark woods near large country estates. Unfortunately no house she’s near, is anyone of her acquaintance. She can’t beg at the door for shelter from the storm.

She shoves her bonnet back on. A valiant attempt to keep her head dry. Tied up the soggy blue ribbon under her chin. It now sits there limp. Flopping uselessly. Dripping water down onto her chest.

She buttons up her coat and thankfully finds her grey calfskin gloves in her pocket. She slips the things on her numb hands. The material clings and sticks dreadfully to her reddened palm. She’s trembling with cold before long.

She curses herself. Bitterly. “Stupid. Idiotic, foolish and thoughtless...” She yelps loudly when her shoe catches on a tree root and sends her sprawling to the wet earth. She lands hard on her elbow and bashed her shins on the knotted roots of the unyielding tree.

Dizzy with pain she hisses and heaves herself up. Mud oozes up between her clawed fingers. Her knees stab the earth as she scrambled up. Her coat now befouled with great splotches of claggy mud.

The wind whips up terribly. Thrashing the whole forest with rain. Thrashing her too. Her coat catches to her wet skirts. Hem damp with sticky mud and wet. A chill slides down her back. Treacherous weather sneaking under her collar and soaking down between her shoulder blades.

She seized the two sides of her coat tighter about herself and pressed on. Where she stomps and runs through puddles, wet mud and cold cold rain splashed up her legs. It already bled through her cracked boots and her stupidly thin stockings. Her feet are freezing and she has lost sensation in her hands already.

She hasn’t made it more than a matter of yards and she’s already soaked through to her skin-Hell. To her bones.

She’s trying not to quiver too much. Make her body concentrate on stepping her out the wide open woods that offer little cover. Maybe she can find a sturdy squat tree to shelter under somewhere?

She heads for the muddied little track of the lane she can see far up ahead. It cuts a carved path of worn dirt through the woods. She knows that lane is betwixt two estates.

She sadly had walked too far to remember which two. It could be Lord Havisham’s land. And he was famously an old curmudgeon who was damnably strict about who he let wander on the barest fringes and borders of his vast property.

A soaking wet idiot girl from the village was not a preferred sparkling vision of a desirable houseguest.

She shambles onto the road. Earth sinking soggy beneath her soles. Arms wrapped around herself. Grazes stinging her arms from her earlier fall. She huddled tighter to herself to stop the shaking. It didn’t help. Her whole body wracks viciously with it.

She feels shame creep up her spine. Slithering flushed and awful into her blood. She’d been a over-reactive fool. Running out blind into a storm of all things. She trudges along the sticky muddy road. Now the rain is pelting so hard, it’s sneaking through her straw bonnet. Even her brain feels like it’s shaking. Rattling inside her skull like some fevered thing desperate to be let loose.

She slips quickly along to the next field. The long grass tears at her skirts. Claws more dew drops at her wool coattails. Leaves and blades of grass grip at the wool. She kicks through the long thrashing grass and wildflowers.

Boots wrapped within the clinging long vines. She makes it to the slippery wood style, heaves her leg over the thing. She hears her white cotton dress snag and tear on the nails punctured into the wood. She rips her skirts away. She doesn’t have the capacity at present to be saddened over that instance.

She balances her numb hand on the wooden post as she swings her leg over. She’s trembling so much she nearly falls again. Somehow she manages to keep upright a little longer. Her knees now knock together and each shivering step weakens her legs. Her muscles are all sore and burning.

She treads carefully though these woods. As the gradient is steep. The forest spills down a tumbling hill. By the time she gets to the bottom of the muddy slope, her bones ring with the effort. She pauses to catch her breath against the nearest tree.

She trips over rocks in the path, sends her sprawling on her front again. She yelps and winces at the pain that bursts through her.

And this time she can barely stand. Instead easing herself onto her hands and knees. She groans. She wills her stupid body to work. She sobs tears of frustration and they don’t even feel warm on her face. She tries so hard to crawl. She would crawl home on bleeding hands and knees if she must-

She watches the grey haze of rain pass over the brown-green wood before her. It shatters hard off every leaf and douses every trunk of every tree. She hears the loud drum of it swim in her ears. She’s so cold now and senseless. Her coat feels heavy. Her arms are too tired to lift. As are her legs.

Heavy. Heavy. So heavy.

She sags into the soggy earth. On her side. Absolutely drenched in mud and hammered by rain. Her bonnet saves most her hair from the mud. But she feels long wet coils of it, where her coiffure is dishevelled, seep onto the earth. Burdensome and damp. Wringing wet and now stuck with leaves and muddy forest debris.

She must look frightful. Laying here in the dirt. And even her bones are shivering. Every cell of her vibrates with cold.

Iris wonders if she’ll die here- slipping into a nice, deep sleep. Quivering herself into an early grave.

Like drowning. Only softer. Less strenuous. She doesn’t have to kick and fight the waves or currents. She can look up at at the sky or the tips of the trees that rain blazed between. Raindrops sting and bash at her eyes. Rolling down her pale cheeks like the tears she can’t manage anymore. The sky cries for her.

She would’ve liked to have seen the night sky - all those stars and the full moon - one last time. But she is not so lucky as to be the one fated with control over her own death.

She watches the woods til her exhausted eyes swell shut. Lashes wet. Sticks to her face. Her body seized up. Even breathing seemed to ache too much. It’s too sharp. Too much effort.

Her lips were almost now as blue as her coat. And she doesn’t care anymore. About anything. About anyone. She can’t. She’s tired. She’s far too tired- this seems like a good peace. A good soft ending.

Death could either be so ineffectual or violently unfair for a woman. She’d either fade away as a decrepit old bat with barely a teaspoons measure of wit left in her head. Drift away in her sleep very hushed, and then she’s forgotten. Some other paranoid mad old crone who gets shut up forever in her wooden box in the ground.

Or in childbirth. Maybe that what would be the thing to take her. Aching and yelling and sweating, Swelled with fever. Drained from blood. Bleeding her life away whilst she’s split open and raw between her legs and some ugly squat pink infant wails for her from its crib.

This way seems far kinder- a mercy, really. They’ll put her in a stiff little box, cover it with unscented white flowers and bury her in the Pembleton chapel graveyard. Down in the soil with the other bones of the dead, and the moss and the worms. People would say it was a tragedy; but her loved ones may take comfort in the fact she died doing her duty by her husband.

Such a miserable thought. Rotting away to a skeleton in the hot box in the sweat of earthy soil. The sun bleaching down. The rain soaking in. The frost stiffening her. It seems like such a still eternity when her life has always been busy.

Better it’s her. Now mother can have the exuberant Posy to pin her hopes and demands on. The second eldest sister. The flirty one who tries harder. The weight will finally be lifted off her own shoulders.

It will settle in the ground with her and spill and seep, and bleed into the soil. Her worries will fade as surely as her head will decay away to dust.

A great snap cracks the wet air in half. Splinters it to shards.

Now it’s thundering- most excellent.

She doesn’t know why the clouds are bothering with an unnecessarily noisy fan fare. As it is, she can’t possibly get any wetter.

She can hear the great gallops of it striking the earth. Booming. Clapping quick through the air. Like the beating skin of a army drum being pounded. Actually. It wasn’t thunder. It was- closer to earth. Not quite as sky bound.

It starts off far away and it invariably grows steadily louder. She almost wishes to sit up and shush it to silence. But that would require movement and her body is too busy melting into the cold moist earth. Moulding in with the leaves and moss. Churning into the oozy mud and the carpet of frost that the rain is eating away.

The rhythmic thunder ceases to be quieted. For it can’t.

She grumbles a groan of a breath that crackles out of her sore throat, and she struggles but contrives to peel open her heavy eyes.

All she can see is that same hazy grey of the rain in the distance. The silver blur inbetween the trees.

Suddenly it is interrupted. There’s a dark shape bounding towards her. Her mind would make some inappropriate joke about the devil coming to take her soul if her brain hadn’t been rattled to absolute bits by her shivering.

She blinks, it takes every ounce of energy she has left. The shape is tall and getting taller. Bleeding upwards. The top is wider, where the bottom is thinner. Two long sculpted shapes, like black stalactites, and they move, leaning forwards, then two more behind those do the same.

The shape pounds the ground. Churning up dirt and muddy water. Her eyes focus enough to then recognise a very wide pair of horses hooves.

Slowing in rapid succession toward her. The hooves were as wide as her head. It was an enormous animal this black horse. It’s fetlocks were massively muscled. Formed big and sheared with long black feathering.

A Shire horse? Maybe even bigger than that still. She can hear the massive beast above her, snorting. She hasn’t yet sought out sight of of the rider.

She would raise her eyes if it didn’t ache so much. She feels the drips of rain patter over her dry lips. She opens her mouth to speak. In attempting movement, she closes her eyes and tries to twist around, splaying herself into more mud. She doesn’t want to even comprehend the mess of her coat or dress. The sad sorry miserable state of her.

She must look so pathetic - and that ragged on her dignity. What little of it there is existing.

They call out. It’s all a mumbled blur to her. A deeply dark tone that sounds muffled. As if coming from underwater.

She tries to apologise to this mystery rider she’s accosted. Wonders why they didn’t just stomp over her with their horses huge hooves and put her quickly out of her misery. Do her a favour.

The again, why on earth are they out riding in this stormy delude? Maybe they’re as nonsensical as her.

It never occurred to her that they were out here for her benefit.

“Iris...” comes the deep call through the rain. She intimately knows that rich voice.

She looks. It hurts, but she looks. A pair of black boots slam to the ground in her eye-line. Water and mud spraying everywhere under his fierce tread.

She twists up, wet hair sticks to her face. Her lips gape. Lord Ren? It can’t be. She can’t have walked that far?

She peeks up, eyes as wide as saucers.

Yes. Yes, apparently she had walked that far.

The adjoining land she’d forgotten. The one that Lord Havisham’s estate bordered on... it was Hellford Park. How in the living hell had he found her here?

He’s quite a sight to be devoured. This big wet vampire. Out in all this pouring rain.

He wears only a short and greatcoat. With dark breeches and mud splashed boots. His skin is as wet as hers, an icy rivulet runs off his chin. His white shirt is sticky and tamped to his big chest. If she could gasp at seeing it clinging like a second skin to his body, she would’ve. His wild dark hair is swirled and stuck to his head. That too drips on his coated shoulders.

She fancied if his coat gapes open any the wider, she’d be able to see the whole stretch of his naked chest. Again. The dark patches of his nipples and all those enticing peaks and dips in the muscle.

He moves so fast it makes her eyes hurt and head spin. His face is concerned. Bearing down a sad look at her.

Then he’s there. Above her. He’s kneeling in the dirt. Her numb body senses his hands scoop under her. She tries to speak but her tongue has nearly literally frozen - fallen right back down her throat.

Two big and ungloved hands slide under her. One under her shoulders, the other near the numb things she used to call legs.

She’s soaked to the bone and dirty with wet mud and she’s mortified with the way he clasps her so close to his skin. She’ll ruin his handsome coat. He’s just as icy cold as she is. Like old marble stone. She would speak, but her teeth are chattering out of her skull.

“Are you hurt?” He seeks. She shivers through a shake of her head.

He couldn’t stand to yank her up, and then have her shriek out in pain because of a broken bone he hadn’t foreseen.

He lifts her. In one mighty swoop, unsticks her from the earth and up away into his strong arms. Such musculature he has, it’s undeniably potent. Being held by him in this close a manner.

She tries to curl her tongue around some words. An apology. Or a question. He senses this. He’s softly speaking to her. Hugging her tight to his body in a close embrace.

“None of that now. Don’t try to speak. Don’t speak. Just keep your eyes open for me, little dove.” He instructs calmly to her. He walks them back to a horse she can only assume is Erland.

The great equine beast is already snorting and nickering. Lowering his legs so Kylo can hoist her on the saddle.

She barely grips onto the horse with her senseless fingers. He’s behind her in no time at all. Swings his body up and that compact wall of a body is behind her again. He seizes the reins and keeps her tucked close. Curled into his chest. Her head on his shoulder.

“I’ve got you.” He assures her. His breath hot on her temple. Such a scorching promise in comparison to the chilling rain. His words melt the cool on her skin.

One trunk of a big arm curling around her locks her to him. He coaxed Erland around, and dig his heel in the animals round bellied side. They race off through the stinging rain. The woods are a blurring black and grey mush to her. The stark of trees and rain battered undergrowth.

She feels Erland’s back arch as he rears up and clears a fence cleanly, taking it cleanly like it’s nothing. Kylo’s arm fixes around her. Crushing tight when they do. Ensuring she stays right there with him in the saddle seat. Braced right against his thighs behind, and the saddle horn in front. Her hip cradling the pommel.

She inches closer to him. Tucks her face into the crook of his neck. Uncaring for civility now. She clings onto him so tight her fingers leave creases in his clothes. Ten little crescent moons. She knots her knuckles to grip so tight in his sodden clothes that her wrists shake all the more.

They absolutely fly through the rain. She didn’t need to ride Erland to know he was a powerful horse bred for pulling. Clearly carrying two people posed no issues for him either.

He was as quick as ten horses. The Arabian in his blood made him a fast sort of beast. His legs and his hooves pounded the earth quicker than she could rationally comprehend.

She hears the tempo of Erland’s hooves shift when they come to a paved road. The clops echo louder. Ringing like tinnitus in her ears. Sharply striking her senses. Rattling in her head and bouncing from one ear and across to the other. Her head feels full of fluffy cotton. It’s ineffectual.

Kylo’s body lurched behind hers. Erland slows to a halt as bid by his master in his foreign Bavarian tongue. She sways forwards too. The weight of him disappears and she opens her sticky eyes, weakly clutching onto the leather strap of Erland’s tacking. Kylo is below her on the ground, sliding her off his stallions powerful back, into his arms once again.

She sees the steps afore them, leading up to the front of the house. The doors flung wide inwards. She hears him call sharp orders. She wonders if they are to her but then a most obedient stable hand appears as if out of nowhere, leads the horse away quick. Kylo’s carrying her again.

Storms her right up the steps in his hold. Muddy and soggy in his arms. Running quick with her. As fast as he can move.

She barely registers that they’re out of the rain and inside Hellford’s foyer. She recognised the pointed tiles of the floor. They blur her eyes at Kylo’s fast pace covering ground. His big thighs can stride quick and his booted feet rattle sharp clacks on the tiles.

He’s barking orders again. He used to command one of the largest companies of men in history. Orders are things he’s used to issuing. “Jomar. Stoke the fires in the guest bedchamber, now. Draw a warm bath. Not hot. Warm. If she heats up too quickly there’s every risk she’ll go into shock.” He demands.

There’s another hollow clack. She thinks it might be them ascending a staircase. The great dark mahogany one. He speaks again. “Have two maids sent up to the suite now. They’ll need to strip her and help rid her of her sodden clothes.”

His butler with the soothing honey and cinnamon for a voice answers him. “Of course, Your Lordship. I’ll send for Anna and Mrs Jones.” He assures him. Sending for the most competent maid and the brusque housekeeper. The one so stern she gave his strict regimental measures a run for its money.

Kylo whisks her away upstairs. She’s barely stopped shivering when he bursts them through a bedroom door that he roundly kicks open with the ball of his foot. Curses at the stubborn thing.

She’s sprawled back on a bed suddenly. Feather and down beneath her. Staring at a rosebud pink bed canopy. If she had the temerity to recognise where she was she’d have blushed into the next dimension.

She’s still shivering but she manages to curl up and sit, looking down to see his dripping dark head bowed as he teaches under her skirts, and takes one ankle to gently start on working off her muddy boots. Yanking it calmly off her foot with some urgency. Her hands fumble for her coat buttons. The heat of the house prickles at her skin. It burns.

She shudders a weak laugh. “Never-r thought I’d see a day w-when a peer of the r-realm would be ttaking off my boots.” She sniffs. Rainwater’s dripping down her nose. She looks down and sees the priceless silk eiderdown that she’s sat on. A lump lodged in her throat.

“I’ll soak the b-bedding...” She frets. Trying to work off her heavy slippery gloves. Not having much luck.

Kylo peers up at her. She sees the mud smeared over his hands. On his coat. The watermarks on the fine carpets. She feels wretched. Making work for others.

“Damn the bedding. Iris. It is replaceable. You are not. My first priority is getting you warmed again.” He insists.

Then, in a manner so intimate as nothing she’s ever felt in her life. He rises up and cups her cold face in one hand. His palm covers her jaw and most of her neck. She’s as icy as he is. He suddenly fathoms how dangerous that is.

“How-w did you f-find me?” She whispers quietly. Eyes boring into his own. They are that melting brown again. Gone was the gold and rampant red of last night.

She didn’t see the monster here today. She saw only a loving suitor.

“I told you.” He insists kindly. “I won’t have anything happen to you.” He ushers softly. Thumb stroking a sticky smear of mud and a wet coil of hair off her face.

“I felt you were in peril. That, I could not ignore. I could sense it was you from the second you stepped foot near my land.” He tells openly. He was after all, a territorial creature.

She’s not scared of him. She ought have her head examined-

She’s witnessed and heard what he can do to humans. She saw as much last night. She’s been stood on the fringes of conversations about the details of all the grizzly deaths of late. The ones where men were left parted from their arms and legs with their entrails piled and strung around them like garlands or bunting. It’s too frightening to even consider.

She saw none of that here, in him tonight. He rode out into a vicious storm to bring her home and get her warm; those didn’t seem like the actions of a soulless creature. Quite the contrary.

He can rip out throats or rip limbs off lesser mortal bodies and she isn’t scared. He’s a dangerous warrior from an age long past.

She’s never been more wildly in love.

She’s curious about the other facets this beautiful man may be hiding. She’s determined to seek out more curiosities about his character, if it’s the last thing she does.

“T-thank-“ She begins to stammer. He merely smiles and shakes his head. His hair drops more rain onto his shoulders. It bleeds out his shaggy mane. Stuck swirled to his neck and ears.

He touches her cheek again. “I would rip this very world in two with my bare hands to keep you safe.” He assures.

Their moment is rudely interrupted as a fleet of regimented maids burst into the room. Some carrying water jugs to tip into the bath. A stout woman and a waify blonde cross quickly to where Kylo is knelt. The stout woman puts her hand on his shoulder.

“Your valet is in your chambers, my Lord. We’ll see to Miss Ashton, here. Never fret. We’ll soon see her right.” She persuades kindly.

He nods a quick crooked smile of thanks. And stands up. The polite maid smiles nicely helps Iris with her gloves. Unbuttons the soggy calfskin things and pulls them off. Kylo’s chest crushes at seeing the red raw of her cold palms. Her tiny elegant fingers pricked stiff and numb with cold.

“I’ll leave you in Mrs Jones’ capable hands. Little dove.” He takes his hand off her neck and smiles, before he turns to them both and softly orders. “Act as quickly as you can.”

Another whisper comes so softly, Iris barely hears it for the heavy rain still knifing at the window. It’s Kylo’s fear. His voice trembles with the worry. “Please look after her.”

“Of course. Your Lordship.” Mrs Jones replies firmly with great feeling. He turns away, with great difficulty taking his eyes off her and the soggy black shape of him trudges out the room. Leaving rain droplets and mud in his wake. Leaving the ladies to tend to her. He’s a big shape blocking up the doorframe and then he’s gone.

Iris swallows, nervous, freezing with cold, trembling still, and unused to such attention from staff. They’re unbuttoning her coat. She aches from head to toe. And she’s damnably tired. She wants to sink into this luxury bed and sleep like Hypnos.

“Here we go, pet. Don’t worry now. You’re in safe hands.” Mrs Jones smiles. They are kind. Far too kind. She doesn’t deserve such attention for her stupidity. And yet they’re being so patient.

Passing Iris a towel so she may wipe the muck from her face. She does. And when they divest her of everything get her down to her dripping cotton shift, Anna takes her wet things and then kindly housekeeper helps her stagger across to the bath on her weak legs. Her dark hair bleeds mud and wet down her shoulders. She doesn’t even wish to see the state she left the eiderdown in.

“You lean on me, now pet. We’ll have you right as rain in no time.” Mrs Jones assures. Leading Iris to the magnificent anteroom.

Where a steaming copper tub awaits. The fire in there too was stoked. It blazes off the tub like spun flickers of amber. The air smells of roses. No doubt a clever maid has tipped some fanciful oil in the tub for her. She’s very grateful.

She’ll be even more so to scrub the mud off her skin and hair.

Iris fights back a smile. And remarks to herself how she’s never been told to lean on anyone ever before.

It feels awfully nice not to take all the burdens alone for once.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

Kylo’s sitting alone downstairs. In the grand echoing hall of Hellford’s dining room. Washed, dried and redressed. Somewhat uncommonly, at that. One that made Wilton, his valet, arch a wry brow at him. Which Kylo heartily and completely ignored.

He’d coughed a dry polite interjection. His cheeks reddened in scandal. He did always appreciate things done properly. Civility paid its due attention. As it should be.

“You will be dining alone with Miss Ashton Sir. Might you atleast consider a waistcoat?” He flusters. For Wilton that was practically him imploring him, begging on his knees.

Kylo rolls his eyes. After such an impassioned Aria as that, how could he refuse? He let’s him slip the velvet black, satin backed waistcoat up his shoulders. He buttons it.

He distinctly heard the man behind him sigh with newfound relief as he brushed off the shoulders. Kylo escaped the dressing room before he insisted on slipping him into full ceremonial dress.

He was adequate as he was. A fresh pair of dark breeches and boots. And just an undershirt on his top half. No cravat.

And now here he awaits his diner companion. In this cavernous room. He could hardly send her back to Westwell in such a weakened state. He’d have her fed and warmed to the bone before he sends for the carriage. He took great delight in penning a note to Mr Ashton. Telling him his daughter fell ill in his woods. He wonders what her greek harpy of a mother will make of that.

He smiles to himself as he scans around the room, looking to the doors again. Night was falling outside now. Rain still beats heavy on the windowpanes. The scuttle of it fills this room. His dining room.

Finely bedecked in scarlet and gold. The walls are an ornamental barque red wallpaper. The narrow room bears the same pointed black and white tile as the foyer. There’s an ancient mahogany table that he’s sure measures a mile long. When chandeliers or glassware and cutlery are placed on the far end, they glitter like far off stars. The ceiling is governed by three gigantic chandeliers that drop down shimmering gold and crystals from the high gilded ceiling. It’s every inch a rich room.

It’s mostly dark. Candles on walls and side tables lit. Fire blazing. Kylo is settled down the far end from the grand double doors. By the roaring great fireside. Cast in amber all around him.

His sleeves are rolled, and he’s relaxing on an upholstered scarlet wingback chair. One of a matching pair, set by the fire. The one opposite him is currently empty. He hopes Miss Ashton will be the one to fill it shortly.

Mrs Jones had stopped in earlier, poked her head through the door. Said Iris was well. No sign of illness brewing. She’d been bathed and successfully warmed up gradually. Inside and out. She was served two pots of tea, which she drank. And she was most glad to wash all the muck away.

Kylo thanked her for her efficiency. She really was a matriarchal wonder. He couldn’t do without her running this house the way she does. She smiles and bids him a good evening. Slips back down to the kitchens in time for the servants supper.

When the door creaks open again, Kylo leaps to his feet. Head twisting back in the direction of the doors. Face hopeful. When he sees it’s only Jomar walking through with a carafe of wine, and two glasses. Heading toward him.

Today his ever persistent Butler wears his usual robes. A cloaking Sherwani coat. The usual Dastar turban. Today it is a golden yellow like warm gold butter. His coat is an ivory satin. Stitched with beige embroidery of leaves and vines. The same dark dhoti puffed trousers on his legs tucked into his fine long boots.

He settles back down again. Sinking into the chair. Boots scraping on the deer pelt rug stretched across the floor.

“You seem unhappy to see me. Perhaps you were anticipating someone else? I even come bearing an awfully good vintage. A full bodied 1785 Bordeaux.” He smiles. Calling out to his master.

Kylo grumbles. “As enticing as your company is. You know how I much prefer the wine.”

“My lord. I’ve seen you drink the foulest of ale that basically equates to stale barley hops and animal urine. You will tip anything alcoholic down your neck for pleasure. You remain a Viking in some ways.” He corrects with a smile.

“I haven’t drunk in a manner like that since 1632.” Kylo defends as Jomar places the fat bottomed wine carafe on the end table next to his lord. Stands the glasses down next to it. Unstoppering the decanter and pouring the velvety ruby-black wine into the class.

“And you would do the same if you to live around the bloody puritans.... most dull people ever to exist on the face of this earth. That sodding lot and their covenants and bloody purity without sin would drive a monk to tears of boredom.” He whinges.

“Yet. You bear the dissatisfaction so nobly.” Jomar jests. He never passed up a chance to sark at his grumpy Lordship. Handing Kylo the glass wine goblet. He takes it gently. Sips it. Doesn’t want to admit to his butler how right he is.

Jomar knows. He sees the annoyed little twitch tug at he corner of his masters mouth. He stoppers the wine again. Looking too wholly satisfied. He stands with his hands folded behind his back. As if waiting for more.

Kylo glares sharp at him over his glass as the red wine stains his lips. “Pray what is it now?” He asks and is met with a smug smirk.

“Don’t expect me to sit here and gossip with you like some giggling waify bluestocking.” Kylo grumps. Jomar smiles wider. Not the least put off by his grousing.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Kylo adds. “Staff to order about... go and- polish the silver or wind the clocks or do something insipid, would you...” He urges.

“No duties at present are as urgent as this.” He grins. His Butler won’t budge. He was famously obstinate. That’s why he’s able to serve Kylo so well as he does. They are two peas in a pod.

If Jomar had been a lesser man maybe he would have put up with Kylo’s snipes and bore them all in silence. Kylo’s secretly glad he doesn’t. He likes a healthy challenge. Part of his Viking spirit he believes.

His Lordship sighs and rolls his eyes. Cursing heaven and hell and everything inbetween the two.

“Mrs Jones tells me our pretty houseguest is well recovered from her tumble in the rain.” His walnut brows arch softly up his forehead. Cocoa brown eyes glimmer with loving insinuation.

“You and your confounded relations have wanted to see me married, since before Queen Elizabeth I took to the throne.” He strops.

“She’s an excellent match for you. So I understand it.” He continues on as if Kylo has not spoken. He always did.

“I will dock your wages if much more of this insolence continues.” Kylo’s threatening. But he can’t help the smile that breaks his lips.

“I was just curious, is all. And If you do perchance happen to persuade that sweet darling girl to marry you, then please make it somewhat soon. You’ve been alone for eons too long. You really could benefit from loving someone again.” He turns to quit the room with a polite bow. The fire light shines off his marigold yellow silk dastar.

“And also please host your nuptials as soon as. Because then in that circumstance, Mrs Jones will owe me 20 shillings.” He remarks as he takes his leave. He listens to Jomar’s footsteps fade away. Clacking away into echos in the grand room.

Kylo wants to roll his eyes. He settles for drinking some more. “Begone. You wily cur.” He smiles, calling loudly after his retreat.

Jomar talks loudly as he gets to the doors. For Iris is just walking through them. He smiles at her widely. Hands folded demurely and stiffly behind his back. He hears Kylo clatter to stand to attention down the room. Hears the scrape of the chair legs whine on the polished floor.

“Miss Ashton. We are all relieved to see you so well recovered.” He insists. His smile creases his cheeks. He really does have the most sincere smile. And he always smells faintly of mango’s and coconut. Something in his cologne perhaps? Or an oil for his beard. A richly exotic delightful scent. Always draws stronger when he moved closer.

Iris blushes. Well embarrassed and appraised of how the whole house seemed to be aware of her foolish misfortune. Servants gossip. It’s as certain a fact as the sun rising in the east.

“Your staff are most attentive and kind. Mr. Jomar.” She tells him brightly. She looks pale to his eye. But he supposed she’s had quite an ordeal to undergo.

Her brow is a little dewy and her cheeks warm. Her eyes seem very bright with something. He puts that down to the warmth of her surroundings.

She’s dressed in the only spare ladies clothes they kept hereabouts. A new nightgown and shift. Mrs Jones bumbled her up in a long crushed red velvet gown, the colour of split veins, and gave her a golden tasselled shawl to link about her shoulders too. For extra measure.

“Might I bring you anything, Miss Ashton?” Jomar seeks.

“That will be all. Please serve dinner as soon as cook is ready.” Kylo calls from down the hall.

“Enjoy his royal grumpiness. Miss Ashton.” Jomar cheeks before he bows and steps past her. Shutting the door in his wake with a glass smile.

She looks down the room. Painfully aware that she’s been left all alone with Lord Ren. He stands. Awaiting her. A true gentleman through and through.

She walks to meet him. He examines her as she comes closer. He’s afraid his eyes don’t know which part to settle on first. Her hair is unbound. Glossy and fluffy. Recently soaked and dried by the fire. Still a touch damp he reckons. If he curled his fingers around those long strands, he’d still be able to feel a kiss of damp.

Her hair is thick. He never knew that before. It always being up in a coiffure was difficult to measure. And when she’s lying down it’s tucked behind her head. Here, as it seats down, he can see the volume and body on those walnut-chestnut golden brown curls. It stretched right down her back. Almost to her shoulder blades. She looks divinely pretty and wild. Untamed. Like that very first day he laid eyes on her.

He wants to feel that unbound silk on his palms as he cups her cheeks to kiss her-

He swallows. Now applauding her dress. A gown and those silly little slippered stockings on her feet. No stays or pinching necklines. She looks relaxed and it makes him feel so stirred up to see it.

“How are you feeling?” He steps closer when she finally nears the fire. That dining table was surely the very length of Britain itself.

He can’t sense anything the matter with her. She’s over warm but he blames that on his own overzealous orders to see her warmed through. She looks rosy cheeked and healthy enough. Her energy waning a little but he suspects she’s most likely hungry and tired.

“I am much better. And might I just say, thank you greatly for your assistance. I feel a complete fool.” She blushes redder. Looking ashamed.

“One can not predict the weather in this cursed ever mutable country.” He insists.

“And I rather thank your foolishness. Had it not been so- I might thereafter have been dining alone tonight.” He flatters.

“Please, come and sit. You need rest.” He insists gently.

Moving closer and pressing a hand lightly to the back of her waist. She moves towards the chair opposite to his. Listens to the storm rattle at the windows and howl at the roof. It seemed almost determined to get inside with them. Clawing at Hellford’s outer walls.

She relaxes into the seat. Her gown almost moulds into the same shade of the chair. She sits back and lets the fire warm her. Although she feels overheated.

She supposed it’s cause she was so chilled earlier. She can’t differentiate between the two extremes. Her whole body now feels heavy. Her chest feels too tight even though she isn’t wearing her stays. Just loose cotton. But her ribs feel bruised. Every breath feels too short somehow.

Kylo stays standing and pours her some wine. “I’ve sent a note to your father at Westwell explaining what events unfolded.” He tells her.

She thanks him again as he hands her the wine. “I’m surprised my mother wasn’t kicking down the doors to rescue me safely home.” Iris insists after sipping the drink.

Kylo’s smiling. Settling himself back in his chair. Wine to hand. Legs splayed out comfortably. One bent, one reclining out gently. “Mrs Ashton is my severest critic.” He remarks.

“Believe me. I pay her criticisms little mind.” Iris insists. He smiles wider. Good.

He watches her as she stumbles around asking a question. Not quite knowing where to begin...

“Forgive my impertinence around such a subject. But I see no other way to approach asking it..” She begins. Wetting her lips and meeting his dark eyes. Those rough cut gemstones encloses in shadows.

“About last nights, um- events...” She starts.

“Iris. I’m more sorry than I can say for what you witnessed last night. To see death so violently. I know it was shocking for you. I can see it stunned you. It stuns most people to discover what I truly am.” He offers plainly.

“And your staff... do they, well-know?” She asks in a hush. Whispering.

“The ones I know explicitly do. Jomar and Mrs Jones. The rest may circulate whatever rumours they wish. I haven’t confirmed nor denied it. It would scare a lot of people. If it’s not self absorbent, I believe a great amount of speculation flourishes in my wake.”

“I am more intimate with the staff and tenants at my castle. Back home. I defend my territory from the savage appetites of feral new sires and I loyally protect the people who live on my lands. I however saw no reason to shock whole legions of the local staff I hired when Hellford park was opened here.” He offers.

“New sires?” She asks. Kylo senses she’ll have more questions to ask before the night is out. If she didn’t she was a simpleton and he’d never accuse her of that.

“Vampires are creatures that are made or turned. Little Dove. Not born as mortals are.” He remarks.

“New Sires are as feral as a roaming pack of starving wolves. The hunger when it first comes... there’s no mania of man that can match to it. It’s like death visits you twice. But keeps you sensate for every agonising moment. It’s worse than fever or plague. You’d do anything to feed to chase the hunger away. It rots at your gut. Makes you do horrible things. Vilest of things.” He makes plain.

“You were turned?” She enquires. He hopes she won’t faint. But he sees she’s made of sterner - more curious mettle - He’s rather glad she’s sat down.

He nods calmly. “I was.”

“One thousand and twenty seven years ago.” Comes his casual offering.

Draegans face flutters on his mind for just a second. The pale pierce of his eyes. The silk of his silver hair. The sharp savagery of his silver tongued smile. He blinks his past away. Out of his head.

Her mouth hangs open. “My goodness.” She gasps. “You do look remarkably... uh- well. Considering your age.” She stumbles. He chuckles at her reaction. Trying to wrap her head around it all.

“In my many advancing years. I’ll snatch whatever flattery I can get.” He states warmly. Smirks darkly at her. Almost flirting. She smiles.

“I’ve heard of your kind in folklore. Passed on in tales from ancient civilisations all around the world. Campfire horror stories I’m sure- predictable drama in Gothic Penny novelettes.” She tells. “But I never suspected-“

“Monsters like me truly exist?” He jokes. Laughs a little. She smiles too.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” She comments in a tiny voice. So honest. So sweet. It touches the vacant pit where his heart should be.

“Little Dove. Every culture and manner of people that there has ever been, has had creatures like me stalking and hunting in the dark of their shadows.” He promises.

“It’s been that way since the dawn of time.” He eluded.

“At the risk of another impertinence; had you a family?” She asks. The honesty as tragedy of his smile gives her the biggest answer.

“Centuries ago I used too. Naturally. There’s only me left. A mother and father, of course. Two little vexing brothers...” He tells. “I stopped mourning all their passings a long time hence.”

“I’m dreadfully sorry. I can only imagine how strange it must be, to be the only relation left.”

Kylo’s smile is pensive. “I still have a family of some kind surrounding me. I have an impertinent butler and a matron of a housekeeper who resolves to mother me as if I were a boy again. Some friends who are, shall we say.... cursed with the same predilection as myself. It is not such a lonesome existence.” He tells.

He did have a lover. Once upon a time. But even his short fuse of a temper eventually took care of that.

He walked away from the greatest love of his life. His seething anger over his turning ate him up. He felt controlled, abused. Suffocated by his control. Their bond was a trap to him. No longer was it the freedom he first thought. Draegan was eclipsing his life. He was fed up of being in his pocket, hailed as his favourite warrior. His fierce one. As he called him.

He was sick of his Norse endearments. Because Draegan was the kind of lover to endear him in his own native Norse tongue. Kylo quickly made up his mind to leave him. After decades of being together. He felt used. Felt like Draegan only turned him to use him as a puppet. His strength and power were commendable - and exploitable.

He took it out on everyone surrounding him, but himself. Turned the pain and rage outward. That night in the snow after battle when he was turned into a vampire, Kylo had been promised the world and he left Draegan to finally go and take what he felt he was owed.

He didn’t regret the parting then. He was glad of it. He severed his ties. Sheared his hair short, and cut off his viking courting braids. Turned his back on his lover and his maker. Took the world for his own as a lone wolf. He regretted it bitterly now. After all these years.

She nods in gentle understanding. If anyone can comprehend an existence devoid of people who love her, and show appreciation openly. It’s certainly her. Posy and Flora only show her affection of they’re after a pair of earrings. Or some bauble or trinket or her slippers for a ball. She doesn’t see her father enough to have a kind word. Though he oft has plenty for her. And her mother? Woe betide she ever hears an encouraging syllable cross her lips.

“Well. I for one feel most sorry for you Lord Ren.” She begins. He looks confused.

“You left your castle in Bavaria for an enticing and relaxing english country excursion, and all you seem to be doing is saving foolish damsels who find themselves in distress.” She offers. “Hardly a peaceful leisurely winter.” She adds over his chuckling.

“I’ve said it before, I will repeat myself gladly. I found a damsel who is infinitely worth saving.” He comments. She feels her blush creep down her neck. She smiles down into her lap. Holding her wine.

She peers into the flames next to them. Draws the shawl tighter around herself. Kylo stands and offers to refill her wine glass. She hands it across and their fingers brush. Static and molten heat fizzle through her blood. He’s still so cold. She’d always thought it a matter of poor circulation perhaps. Now she understands why that might be the state of his skin.

“You must have so many fantastic tales to tell. What with having such a long and varied life...” She looks up at him as he pours her more wine.

“A couple here and there up my sleeve...” He offers with mirth as he returns to his seat.

He could tell her about seeing the magic unfurling of the renaissance in Florence the 1500’s. The art the muses. He could regale to her the true bloody carnage of the crusades in the Middle East the so called ‘Holy Land.’ He could explain to her what Paris and Versailles was like in 1720. The frippery and the aristocracy. The crass callous nature of French royalty. Powered wigs black rotten teeth and beauty spots. He’d lived through all those cosmetic fashionable fads.

“Immortality is useful if one wishes to see the world. I believe there is no corner of it I haven’t glimpsed.” He tells.

“A soldier and a proverbial wanderer.” She adds in wonder. “You’ve seen the whole globe. I’ve only ever been shut into this tiny corner of it.” She tells.

“You regret that?” He asks.

“In some ways. I know not one person who has ever gone to their grave saying that they should have travelled less. I don’t want to be that person. Aching for experiences and a having a sore soul-full of remorse when my time finally does come.” She admits.

“Imminent marriage to the egregious Sergeant Hux suddenly seems abhorrent in more than a few ways?” He seeks.

“In every way.” Iris insists. Drinking her wine. But she couldn’t help it. It was what had to be done. No matter how much she wishes to undo it.

The dining room doors clatter open at the far end. A whole bevy of servants in Hellford’s crimson livery come in. Carrying trays and silver dishes laden with food. Iris can smell the delicious concoctions even from up where she is.

Mrs Jones directs her busy worker bees. They serve the elegant dinner right down the far end. Near the fire. At Kylo’s insistence. The table groans with food before long. A leg of roasted ham. A roasted saddle of beef. A mound of golden potatoes. A whole terrine of steaming white chicken soup, another of mutton stew. Creamed celery and fried cabbage and sprouts with chestnuts. Buttered asparagus and every fine dish she could ever think.

She sits opposite Kylo as the foot man carved them both chunks off the roasted meats. Along with half a roasted capon each. She likes the indulgence of it. And the meat is well cooked. The beef still drips ichor and the ham is sweetly succulent. Everything is immaculate. The footman pours them more wine and they helped themselves to the banquet of food.

Kylo doesn’t indulge much in the feast. She observed he mostly had the bleeding meats and the wine.

She feels over warm by the time they retire to the fireside once more. Many glasses of wine, aswell as indulging in soup and asparagus and roasted meats of all varieties, the dinner leaves her feeling stuffed full. Her stomach clogged with meat and sloshing with Bordeaux.

She declines another glass when they take to the seats once more. Dabs at her brow. Her headache is pumping furiously behind her temples again. Her throat is cracking dry. Nothing appears to ease it. She’d eaten the sugary sweet peaches and crisp snap apples off the fruit platter set on the table but now her mouth is dry as ash.

“The madness of the weather isn’t persisting, so I see.” She comments as the furious storm rattled the windows forcefully. She would be best to stay the night. As he predicted. He’s loathing the idea of sending her and his staff and driver out accompanying the coach in the severest weather like this.

Kylo peers across at her. Her breath seemed a little short. Her words seemed like enormous effort for her. And she’d seemed reserved at dinner. Eating slowly as if she had no appetite.

“I wager it will pass soon enough. Might see out the night.” He comments. Taking a sip of his own drink. Feeling the scarlet velvet of it sit on his tongue.

Her head is so full of agony. She can barely summon the energy to speak. She pushes herself up out the chair by the arms. Her bones suddenly grate with white-hot pain.

“Please forgive me- I.” She starts. Gasping for breath. She shuts her eyes and Kylo watches her try to compose herself.

“I think I may need to retire to-“ She doesn’t get the opportunity to finish her sentence. She swallows and then she just falls. Crumpled like a wilting flower.

Kylo is there to catch her. He stood the second she started waning. He falls onto his knees and captures her in his arms.

“Dove?” He seeks. Stroking hair out her face. Her neck is stretched back, face pale and dewy with sweat. Eyes ashen grey and bright. Hooded eyes bright with pyrexia. She’s weak. The rain caught her in worse ways than he outwardly supposed.

The chill must’ve settled on her lungs.

He cups his cool fingers to her brow. She’s hot. Terribly hot. A fever. This was grave. Grave indeed.

He turns and yells for Mrs Jones to send for the doctor. He turns back to Iris. Watches the beads of sweat wriggle down her forehead. Her dry lips crack open and she’s trying to apologise again.

He cups the back of her neck. Face tugged into worry. “I’ve still got you.” He promises.

His distress starting to build. Mounting onto his sadness. He never prayed. Gods hold no faith for him anymore. But he prayed in this moment for her.

He truly did. And he prayed so hard his hands shook.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

#kylo ren #kylo ren x oc #vampirelovestory #vampire!kylo #vampire au #adam driver #very wolves and doves #Iris vibes🕊#Draegan vibes 🥀#Lord Ren vibes 🐺#vampire #demon #ao3 fanfic #blood #violence #death #illness #swooning #rainstorms

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nurseofren · 4 years

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Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 19

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Read chapter eighteen

Title: A Powerful Motivator

Words: 5600

Summary: How could you have ever known? You couldn't. You have to accept that.

ST Rambles: Hello newcomers. I hope you all have enjoyed the story so far. And if this is the first update you're receiving. Well. So sorry. If you've gotten this far you already know there's a lot of pain and angst here.

I very much hope this chapter had the effect I wanted. Please tell me your thoughts and reactions! Thank you for reading!

[MASTERLIST]

Only when the elevator doors had shut did the two men unhand you, the absence of their detention obvious as the tissues they’d bitten into amplified with your pulse. The crimson captors stood silently, soullessly, at either of your shoulders, posture so strict not even their armor shifted as you were propelled upwards. If they hadn’t been so obvious in their initial pursuit you were sure if you tried hard enough you could convince yourself you were alone, believe this was any other day and you weren’t venturing towards the Supreme Leader of the First Order. The latter half was true; you were only moments away from encountering Snoke. Though, however many people resided in the blaring white of the elevator, you knew you were wholly and entirely alone no matter what.

There was no floor indicator, clueing you into the fact that there was only one intended destination of this trip. Eternity clawed into the stunned flesh of your lungs, the ride simultaneously taking forever and going too quickly. The only scenario you could imagine waiting for you was one of the premature finality of your life; whatever mangled state of your body that would satisfy Snoke was only to be collected once your soul had left in the wake of his fury. Thinking of how the only people who’ve ever met him at such a low rank as you was blood-stilling; there were only stories of demise, grave retellings of endless officers never leaving the doomed automatic doors. Though you’d anticipated at least another month before you’d take your last breath, the closer you came to meeting the superior of superiors you reconsidered that date, your mind racing to think of every last statement you’d made to those you cared for. Would the last familiar face you’d ever see really be that of a nameless physician as he knelt over your co-worker’s seizing body? Nothingness crowded the corners of your attention, too many regrets and unfulfilled wishes tearing through every last gnarled second you had.

The two goons took hold of you again, this time instead gripping into your axillae and elbows. The gesture was suspicious, laced with motives unknown to you when they didn’t apply pressure. They were waiting on something they’d come to expect, or something they’d been instructed to anticipate. Whichever it was, you couldn’t see a reason to struggle against them; there was no escaping this, there was no way around your fate here. The only things left to do were endure and survive, and you weren’t even sure how much control you had over either at the moment.

The first set of doors hissed open as the diagonal split revealed a second, the perpendicular opening of the outer set offering a shutter-like introduction to the room. In the first half second of taking in your new surroundings, not even having left the elevator yet, your lungs shriveled in on themselves as a ragged strike of unadulterated pain rang through your skull. With every last remaining breath came an unintelligible utterance of curses and shrieks. It felt like every sutured connection of your skull was coming apart, your ears ringing with a piercing screech while your throat shredded against every new scrambled soundwave. The only thing keeping you vertical was the guards’ support, your legs forgetting their purpose as each nerve ending twisted in torment. White hot fury licked at each synapse until your head seemed it would implode, sound no longer registering as the worst of it fringed out over your spine and down your tailbone, eyes searing into the impossible agony behind pinched lids.

Torture had a knack for disproving the existence of time; it was unclear how long you’d been screaming when your ears tuned back in, hearing the remnants of a desecrated voice as it faltered into heavy heaves of breath. The armored soldiers were seemingly trained in the ramifications of this event, only releasing you when you had just enough strength and consciousness to support yourself, vision coming back slowly as a loud clack and hiss came from behind. Gathering the rest of your bearings you spun to find the exit had locked and the two guards had their staffs – equipped with electric blades at the tips – locked into an X behind you, further silent explanation of just how trapped you were.

“You’ll excuse the insurance,” a booming, slithering, rattled voice came, commanding every nerve ending to fire at once, every life-sustaining system halting simultaneously. “I can’t risk this meeting getting back to your Master, now can I?”

The guards took a step forward, your own feet stumbling backwards as they ushered you further into the room. There was a walkway, at least ten paces long and five wide, which mirrored the dusky red coming from the overhead lights. The room was incredibly dark, shadows billowing from each support lining the expansive space. Taking one last backward step, your shoe scuffed against the black-mirrored tile, a jumpstart to your heart as you caught view of the true enrapturement that enveloped you currently.

The far wall was a muted red, light evading it as it stretched upward, eventually becoming indistinguishable from the shadow-thick ceilings. Beside you were two railings, only ending when the walkway opened into a geometric stage. Saliva abandoned your mouth when you pictured being cast down into the unknown emptiness which framed you at either side. Drawing closer, harsh-yet-steady steps forcing you forward, an undeniable dread formed at the sight of several torture-entailing apparatuses scattered about the arena; two platforms rose slightly from the floor, mirrored in their placement as two more hung just above them. For all you knew, one of them would be your likely demise.

There was power in giving the Supreme Leader your attention, so instead you focused on that which framed him, feeling a nauseating sense of violation as his stare seeped into your presence. Six red-armored men framed him, three on either side, all of which held various versions of the weapons which buzzed behind you, a warning raging on as each zap rippled new goosebumps into your scalp. Without a single mistaken glance, your eyes traced the throne that framed your Supreme Leader; the grandiosity of its height intermixed with the cold architecture it stemmed from created an unease rooted in the discomfort that something so dull and lifeless could emerge a sense of such utter intimidation.

A halo of bright white burst from below the cathedra, framing the symmetrical sterility just above the incline it sat upon. You’d passed the railing by now, losing a sense of hopeless protection in its absence. The only thing that quelled your fears of being catapulted into the abyss was the fact that it hadn’t happened already. Seemingly, given you were still breathing – though, the quality of each breath could be questioned – there was a purpose in your being here, an exception to the expendability with which the officers that came before you had been plagued.

The footsteps stopped, yours following suit just one pace ahead of them. Between your feet you studied the excruciating eyes peering back at you, wondering how much more pain or violence or trauma they could endure before they lost every bit of life they once held. It astonished you how bleak they’d already become, how unrecognizable you appeared in the glinting pool of ebony below. To look into your eyes now was to plead with the past, beg to go back, wish that you’d never crossed paths with Kylo Ren.

But then another thought, quick and biting and familiar, trickled into the blown reflected pupils: you couldn’t wholeheartedly make that request anymore. Even facing whatever haunting future Snoke would present, there was a rejection in considering never meeting your Master. Though he’d completely uprooted every aspect in your life, entirely deconstructed your every belief, in facing the unknown – whether it be death or something worse – you knew that part of you had grown to want him. To need him, even. A fog of regret clouded your vision when you remembered the last words you’d said to him. This doesn’t fix everything.

And maybe it didn’t, maybe you still held reservations to preserve whatever remaining self-respect you clung to. But if given the chance to go back ten minutes, to be in his arms again, to feel him so warm and so close? To instead forgive what he’d done, even if it meant compromising your pride? Right now, periphery dancing around the blurry frame of the Supreme Leader, you would take it without thought. If you were to be haunted by one last thing, let it be the pitiful nonexistence of your spine instead of the ache taking root imagining never seeing the black-winged Adonis which held your every thought.

“It’s disquieting,” Snoke said, introspection and examination flagrant on his tongue, “to feel familiar with such a young, useless officer.”

There was nothing left to look at, no more metallic stylings to admire. The last object of your attention sat before you atop the soulless steel, lounging lazily against the backing. He wore a robe dripping in gold-flecked thread, his lower body encased in the wrappings. At his waist sat a tie to keep the article tight against his abdomen, leading to the exceedingly low V of the robe’s opening. The skin that lied beneath was marbled in scars which echoed the remnants of a life lived in war. Though, given his rank, his authority, you already knew that to be true.

Talons sprung from bleak fingers, tips tracing into the fronts of either armrest in repetitive horizontal paths. The sight begged the question if he was entirely human, such an animalistic quality forcing your teeth together with fear. Quickly, though, inquiry was replaced with a blaring affirmation; the face that peered back at you incited astonishment of the coldest nature. Even then, was it even a face? Or just the personification of withered, battle-bludgeoned, venom-stained malice?

A shiver shook your chest, eyes too enthralled in the chaos of features to care about social niceties. Agony tinged into your blood, eyes blinking back the sight of the knots of flesh constructing his neck, burrowing notches creating pathways leading to an unknown you’d prefer not to think about. Half his face chinked into itself, a hollowed-out cheek splaying into stretched, melded strings of scarred skin. An asymmetrical mount of flesh stood where his nose supposedly was, two crystal-clear sea green eyes lopsided at either side of it. Above the caverns of his sockets laid a semi-centered gash sinking unsettlingly far into his scalp.

Though he’d done nothing to provoke it other than exist, you feared him. Briefly you considered if he’d become this way purposefully, wondering if his outward appearance worked advantageously towards his goal at inciting sheer terror in his victims. In the comfortable distance you fought to keep your jaw shut, senses overpowered by the gnarled suggestion of life founded in your Supreme Leader.

He tore through your first and last name in guttural pronunciation, metal walls screaming back the echo of your name as it reverberated from his mouth into your soul. “Ranked forty-eight out of one hundred and twenty graduates. Born to no one of acclaim. Heir to nothing. Yet, provider to my prodigy.” He still sat back, words clawing into you as you imagined his talons could. “Why do you think that is, officer?”

Swallowing against your throat, spit nowhere to be found, your lips parted in hesitance, not knowing if he actually wanted you to answer. He said nothing, eyes scraping over your stature with every suffocating second you took before speaking. “Supreme Leader,” you faltered out, thoughts barely forming. “It’s an honor to-,”

“I have no time for pleasantries or half-witted pleadings.”

“Sorry sir – err, Supreme Leader. Won’t happen ag-,”

“It will be to your benefit to only speak when spoken to.” His glare withered every remaining fragment of hope which resided just behind your eyes. “Now, tell me, why do you think you have the position that you do?” Every word slithered from him in an encrypted riddle.

Trembling fingers flexed at your sides, your heart racing into indiscernibility. “I was chosen by Commander Ren. I know this.”

“Precisely.” He brought his dusk-tinted claws in front of him, bringing their tips together to form a sharp angle. “Have you ever questioned your placement? Wondered why you weren’t vetted for the assignment?”

“In the beginning, yes.”

“Not anymore, though, no?”

It was obvious he was leading you into a trap, though you didn’t know why. “No.” Simple answers offered the most protection from such a predator as Snoke.

A low, rolling hum of gravel came from his throat, his mouth forming into a knowing smirk. The sight stabbed through your sternum. “It’s fortunate that I’ve chosen to make use of you. Calculated answers don’t bode well here, I’d suggest being more forthcoming before I change my mind.”

Pulling your lips into your teeth, you stared into the reflected blue mirroring you. “I found it questionable that I would be chosen for such an esteemed position, yes. I struggled with it for nearly two months while being assigned to my Master. I’ve since overcome whatever doubts I had.”

“It seems you shouldn’t have—” he brought his arms back down, fingers molding against the stark angle of the armrest while he leaned forward slightly “—given your upcoming trial and the events which preceded it. How much longer do you have before your initial hearing?”

“One week, sir. Exactly seven days from today.”

“And how do you suspect that will go, officer? Any early predictions? Gut feelings?”

Though you knew he wasn’t anywhere near you, his appearance – cunning and close-chested – suggested he had taken residence in your head, his questions barely questions and instead breadcrumbs. “I trust the Board will make an educated, unbiased decision. However they end up voting.”

“And the sentencing, the only thing in question is your license, yes? Nothing of more… consequence?”

This was no time to have a smart mouth, though your tongue tingled to question his motives. “My license will be revoked no matter the judgement I receive,” you said, listening as the truth slit through your efforts to avoid it, knowing completely he was making you do so purposely, “I’m being tried for my life.”

“Hm. Remind me, girl,” the way the identifier purred out sent a shudder down your arms, “how did this all start? What did you do to prompt such an uproar?”

He knew all of these answers already, only asking them to see you squirm, to force you to acknowledge his authority. “I took supplies from my Master without the proper permission to acquire them.” He didn’t want or need to hear your argument surrounding the ordeal.

“Certainly a competent professional such as yourself would have good reason to do so, correct?”

A huff of indignant air nearly escaped at the suggestion. “Not one good enough, apparently.” A flash of the man’s face came before you, remembering the way warmth flooded over your fingers while compressing his neck.

“Ah, but you disagree.”

Staring back at him, you could feel the coaxing of his implication, your eyes narrowing infinitesimally. “My thoughts are of no importance, Supreme Leader.”

A contained frenzy lit his expression before he slowly stood from the desolate throne. “Don’t discount yourself entirely, officer. Your thoughts are of much value at the moment,” the robe moved fluidly against him, like it was anatomically attached to his physique.

“How do you mean?” It was growing difficult to keep his stare, wanting nothing more than to drill your eyes to the floor.

“Maybe not your thoughts directly, but thoughts that resemble your presence, your frequency per se.” He formed another pyramid in front of his chest, eyes narrowing into you as he paced on the inclined platform. “However unknowingly, you have become quite the obstacle in Ren’s focus.”

“Sir?” He wasn’t making sense. Whatever he thought had to be a misunderstanding.

“It’s only recently become an issue of mine, hence why I allowed it for so long. And your disruption has proven an asset, in a way turning my disadvantage to an equitable benefit.”

There was no other respectable way to tell him you didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, so you stood there, eyes tracking his patterned steps while he kept you locked under his own. “Such a young, impressionable officer. The odds were against you to begin with, so I can see the allure his power had, see how you could be so ignorant to the consequences of your decision. Well, I suppose it wasn’t your decision alone, was it?”

A furious intuition rang in your ears to keep still, to disallow any reactions to his speech, to try and tune it out completely if you could. He was walking you down a dangerous path of admission. Again you stayed silent, barely breathing now.

“I suppose I should make my point.” He stopped moving in his repetitive paths and began the descent towards you, your pulse rioting in your chest. “You are to stop all relations and contact with your Master, Commander Ren. Professional or otherwise.”

That momentary intuition turned into a permanent mental siren, skin burning as you realized Snoke knew; he knew about you and Kylo, and you didn’t know how much or how long or how or why. The only thought that could form was one of complete infraction upon your privacy. Paranoia catalyzed a brewing insanity, inwardly questioning ever interaction you’d had with your Master, backtracking routes to imagine any covert cameras or onlookers. If Snoke knew, so did the Board. This solidified your execution. This stole your future. And all you could think of was how stupid you’d been to believe it would’ve resulted in anything other than your own pain and suffering.

“Of course I hate to be the one to get in the way of young love, but-,”

“What? I don’t love him.” The objection came before the words had formed in thought, fast and fumbled as you rejected his phrasing.

Snoke’s face fell to a disinterested snarl, his steps leading him ever closer as his robe draped off of him, smoke following fire. “I don’t care about the details, only that your existence in Commander Ren’s—” a small, terrible smirk turned his expression sinister “—Kylo’s, I suppose, life has begun to distract him from his duties.”

“And how would you know any of this is true? What if you’ve received false information?”

“Speak when spoken to, girl!” He flung out a hand, with it coming the most intense blockade to oxygen you’d ever experienced, blood immediately pounding against your skull. “Did you really think it was a coincidence you were the only officer to receive a letter upon arrival to the Finalizer? Did you think yourself so entirely special and set apart that I, the Supreme Leader of the First Order, would care enough – or at all – to welcome the most lackluster provider in the program?” He was full on roaring, ears pierced with each booming, malicious redundancy.

He began to circle you, your feet lifting from the floor as the Force continued to steal your breath. “It made no sense for Ren to request such a subpar provider as you, so I gathered intel, placed surveillance of my own, formed a team to compile all the information and present it to me when it became an issue as I knew it would from the beginning.”

Heaves of wordless pleas came as you gripped onto your own throat, clawing at hands that weren’t there, vision blackening as time went on. “I’ve watched you, seen your friends, listened to your conversations.” A hysterical, crazed laugh bellowed from him, the scraps of skin over his neck bouncing in rhythm. “You didn’t even think twice about being the only provider to live with her Master. Didn’t even have the brainpower to suspect something was off. Stupid, emotional girl.” The darkness in the clear blue of his eyes was unsettling, like there was no soul behind them at all. “You are not, and will never be, special. You will only ever be the start and end of the issue.”

By now your lips were surely blue, the vessels in your eyes on the verge of explosion, but he was relentless in his point. “You’ve quite the stamina, though I regard there isn’t much choice involved,” he said, sly staining his features. “I could be wrong, given I’ve only heard a few of your… interactions, and viewed just one. Though, I can’t believe you’d want anything to do with him after the incident last month.”

If it could, blood would be filling your cheeks with a desert heat fueled by the fires of embarrassment and disgust at the thought of Snoke knowing about your relationship, let alone hearing you, seeing you, have your will taken away. Every sexual interaction you’d shared with Kylo ran quick and fleeting across your fading sight, wondering which ones he was referring to, simultaneously wanting to know and to never think of the fact ever again. Although the invisible grip kept strong around your neck, you felt the urge to vomit, to reject completely the knowledge he’d just given you.

“Trial this, door that, practice this, Robbie that. All of these things lie just below the forefront of his mind, distractions from his true responsibilities. And they all focus around you and your pathetic, meaningless life.” Snoke bit off the words as spit sprayed in the low light.

Altogether his hand came down and your knees crumbled onto the floor below, the joints screaming in protest while your lungs flourished with new, vibrant gusts of oxygen. Palms pressed to the floor, spit coughing past your lips and onto your reflected face, you allowed your body to find equilibrium, all the while aware of the predacious nature of Snoke’s paces.

“What can I do that will fix any of this?” There was no longer a need to show respect, bluntness forming over your tongue now as hiccups of breath swelled in your chest.

“As I mentioned, you may have started this ordeal, but you will be the one to end it as well.” His steps stopped just in your periphery, a long pause forming between you, his own reflected face just feet from yours. “I’ve chosen to take this as an opportunity to both refocus Ren and reinforce his priorities, and you’ll find this arrangement will be beneficial to the both of us,” his pitch rose just enough as he said your last name to run creeping chills down your arms.

“If I’m such a wrench in your plans, why not just kill me? Wouldn’t it be easier?” Sitting back on your heels you rubbed your temples, vision still not wanting to focus.

“Easier, yes. Though, ending your life would barely serve to my advantage. I don’t understand why, but Ren is rather invested in you. To kill you would be to make him my enemy, and I still have use for him and his legacy as of now.”

“I will never, ever, do your dirty work. You disgust me.” Blinking back in the light, his second face met the first and aligned into one solid image, your pulse still pounding in your ears.

“Don’t make up your mind so fast, officer. I believe once you hear the exchange I’ll make for your compliance that you will be more than eager to join forces.”

He was the most repulsive being you had ever laid eyes on, or ever had to exist with that you’d ever met; a disgusting, selfish, transactional man – still up for debate – who only did anything to advance his own agenda. It was easy to identify what amplified the blood in your veins, to know the culprit that prickled your cheeks in rage. Within you, staring up at this thing, all you knew was how overwhelming the feeling of pure, centered, unrivaled hatred was when it rooted at your sternum and spread until every cell in your body screamed in protest at his presence.

“Even if you did have anything I’d ever want, I would never accept it. I have a duty to protect and serve my Master. Only him. Never you.”

“You’re more oblivious than I thought,” he said, beginning his circling again as you listened to the shifting echo of his voice. “I suppose I’ll put two-and-two together for you: in exchange for your gracious compliance, I will ensure you come out of your trial with not only your life – however small and pointless it may be – but also your license to practice.”

He stopped behind you, your face hidden from his observance. The two guards stood firm in their blockading of any exit, the two open abysses free to jump into anytime, though you didn’t believe you held the courage to off yourself. Someone else would need to do it. You wished someone would, now.

Devastation cut into your intestines as you realized you had begun to consider his offer; to your utter disturbance, he held exactly what you wanted, what you knew you needed. A guarantee so grand could only be made by a man of his caliper, the strings he held both incredibly invisible yet impressive in their multitudes. Snoke had the power to make this part of your life disappear, to pluck you out of this misery like it never happened in the first place. But as you regarded earlier, you didn’t know if you wanted to leave the entirety of this season, portraits of perfect lips flickering into your thoughts and reminding you of the compliance you’d be tasked with, noting Snoke had yet to explain it.

Swallowing, hating yourself for considering him, you closed your eyes. “If I accepted, what would I need to do?”

“When you accept, you would simply have to quit Ren’s service. Tell him the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Tell him how he disgusts you. How everything he does, every person he kills is makes you sick. Tell him how he’s an irredeemable bastard who isn’t worthy of your… care. Tell him how for the past month it was easier to hate him than it was to breathe. It’s that simple.”

A terrifying ripple of regret tore through you, inwardly regarding how all of those things had been true. They had been. However long ago it was now, though, this morning had worked to undo nearly all of those damages. “You know it’s not simple,” you bit back a derogatory name, still aware of the bottomless pits framing the platform, “why does it have to come from me? Why can’t you tell him? Or Hux? Why does it have to be me?”

“You are the key, officer.” He came back into view, his presence prompting you back to your feet, arms crossed and face flat. “If anyone else were to inform him, it would be clinical. Corporate. You and I both know Ren isn’t keen on being told what to do, especially when there is no reason for him to do so.”

Slowly your heart was coming down, fingers digging into your arms as he continued to speak. “But from you, oh from you,” he emphasized, his tone growing in volume and exuberance, “it will be a personal attack on his soul. For someone he regards with such admiration, though ill-placed and confused, to tell him they don’t want him…”

“It will break him,” you finished the thought, voice a broken whisper.

“And in turn undo the damage you’ve caused. Something I’ve come to realize in my lifetime: betrayal is a powerful motivator.”

Was it selfish to believe that what you’d caused wasn’t damage? To choose to view how his thoughts caressed you as something wonderful and worthy of cherishing instead of a plague which poisoned him? To even have that knowledge now incited the light from a million stars. To know that his stunt last month was brought on by doubts placed by the same man who was recruiting you to hurt him in an irreversible way was to feel your heart piece back together. He really hadn’t wanted to, but in some way he was made to. Within your chest lied an immeasurable amount of disgust, eating away at your withering resolve. Not for Snoke, but for yourself. Taking any opportunity to stall your decision, you fought back tears while inquiring further.

“And if I choose not to? What then?”

Snoke’s eyes momentarily lit, surprise quickly returning to a shuddering contempt. “You would die for him? Give your life for Kylo Ren, the one who made you-,”

“Don’t you dare say anything about that night. You’re the one who instigated his actions, I know it.”

Like it had been there all along, a bright white fury shone against your face, the clean blade of Snoke’s lightsaber buzzing just next to your ear. You listened as hair singed off, smelled as it blew down to your shoulder in its fried state.

“Even so,” he said, apathy palpable in his voice, “you asked what would happen if you refused? Well, it wouldn’t make sense for me to kill you here and now, debilitating any future opportunity I would have at using you to my advantage.”

The weapon’s heat started to burn against the sensitive skin of your face, its proximity prompting sweat at your hairline. “No, if you refuse me, blatantly renounce your Supreme Leader, I’d use much more effective, much more… personalized tactics.” He angled the lightsaber so its tip was just below your ear lobe, its vibrations lingering into the trembling skin over your neck. “Maybe first I’d finish what Ren couldn’t in that McCarty physician you like so much. Though I’d still ensure you endured your trial, even when I would make it impossible for the Board to grant you your life. Maybe even arrange to execute you myself,” he narrowed his eyes, “or, I’m sure Ren would have no problem volunteering himself after I tell him how you informed me of your affair in an effort to quit his service.”

A rage-stuttered laugh came from your chest. “You’re the irredeemable bastard.”

Snoke snarled once more before quieting the white fury of his blade, your sight inking in its absence. “This is a one-time offer, girl. Don’t let the urgency of your youth blind you from your reality.”

It only angered you more that he was making sense. “And what would that be?”

The flesh at his jaw set uncomfortably against his healed injury. “You have something I need, and I have something you need. It’s simple business.”

“Nothing about this will ever be simple.” The phrase was vacant in tone and broken with acceptance.

He knew he was about to get what he wanted. “Do we have a deal, officer?” He extended his decrepit hand, a notion of finality.

Shaking your head, one single tear – hot and betraying and shattered – ran down your cheek, your head a concoction of torment. You didn’t want to do this at all, but just as he’d done to Kylo, Snoke wriggled your head full of contradicting truths. Truths you had worked hard to suppress, truths which lied dormant until now. A half-skip in your heart bloomed from the thought of never spending another moment with your Master, a harrowing torrent of guilt as you regarded his verbalized trust, visualizing how entirely decimated it would be when this was over. Not even decimated. Completely obliterated. Like it never existed in the first place.

“When does this have to be done by?” you whimpered, hand falling into his before his knotted joints cracked into your knuckles.

“By the end of today, if Kylo Ren hasn’t returned to his focus, your trial will become the biggest waste of time and currency the galaxy will ever bear witness to.” He dropped your hand, clasping his together within the confines of his robe, turning back to his throne. “Take her away.”

Not that you were aware, physically or mentally, your arms were ceased once more as your feet dragged lifelessly below you, face stunted as hatred burned below the surface, floods of shame and loathing dripping down your neck and staining into your uniform. The trip back down seemed impossibly short, though you didn’t know if that was due to its direction or your indifference. Before, your only thought had been never leaving from Snoke’s presence. Now, as you stared into the bustling crowds of the Finalizer, the doors locking shut behind you as your earlier captors vaulted back to their leader, your only thoughts were focused on the harm you were indebted to cause. A pain that scraped against the very foundation of your being. A pain you were now required to deliver.

“Hey, stranger!” Mason came out of nowhere, his cheery voice violent against your somber ears.

“I can’t talk right now, Mason,” you said, hiding your face and turning towards the Elite lobby.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? Did Ren do some-,”

“Go away, Mason!”

He caught you by your wrist, your arm lurching back towards him before he caught view of your crushing expression. He lulled your name, eyes dancing over your features. “What is this about? Your trial?”

Lips trembling and brow creased, you yanked your arm from his. “Don’t worry about the trial, Mason. It’s handled.”

Turning away from him you dashed into the crowds. “What does that even mean?” Mason shouted at you.

A heave crested your back, face split in an agonizing grimace while you licked salty tears from your mouth. It wasn’t meant for him to hear, only saying it out loud to solidify the reality Snoke had pointed out.

“It means I have to go home.”

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x you #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #ao3 #st kyp #angst

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