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merakiclosed · 4 years ago

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Princess of the tower

》Pairing: Thief!Jungkook x Princess!reader 》Summary: The thief of the town who goes by the name of JK finds the lost princess but didn’t expect to fall in love with her along the way. 》Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst, Disney!au/Fantasy!au , Strangers to lovers!au, Tangled!au (2010) 》Word count: 7k 》Notes/Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and fighting, manipulation, long-haired Kook because that’s a danger in its self.

The sky looked like a fresh blend of colours brushed onto a canvas. Pomegranate pink and papaya orange teased each other, daring to touch but not completely mixing. You’re tempted to close the shutters and go to bed, tiredness pulling at your being. But you were defiant, what good would tomorrow bring? It would be like any other day; clean up, read, paint, sing, cook.

Pascal sleeps on your shoulder when you look down, unconsciously he matches with the sun, his normal green scales changing golden. Sighing, you move your gaze to watch the silhouette of birds fly past, wishing to be as free as them. Reaching out, you touch the plants that wind around the tower, almost crying out to be touched and held as you caress the soft ridges with your fingers.

Finally, you stand up straight and brush the imaginary dust off your purple dress, the silk smooth on your skin. You can remember vividly the day that you made this with your own hands, sewing and cutting material for hours because you grew out of your previous one. Unfortunately, this was the cheapest material your mother could get you, meaning that all of your dresses looked similar. You were dying to get out of the tower and get some more material, experimenting and trying on different styles and colours. But that would never happen. You weren’t allowed out of the tower. It was mother’s number one rule, not under any circumstances were you to step foot outside of this tower.

Carefully, you set Pascal down on one of the pillows as you flop down beside him, trying to not wake him up. Gazing up at the roof, you find the multiple paintings you did, filled with flowers, birds and butterflies, thinking when your life will truly begin.

Your hand moves along the wall, almost like your mind is directing it without you. You never think too much whilst painting, it’s where you see the reflection of your own imagination and mind. Every colour is bold and painted with precise lines, curved yet defined. Small dots of gold contrast with the deep blue of the background, representing the floating lights. The same ones that you know will appear tomorrow night, on your birthday. You could only hope and wish that this year, your mother allows you to go see them.

“My precious daughter.” she cooes, pinching your cheeks making you wince slightly.

“Mother -”

“Would you let your mother brush your hair whilst you sing dear?” she interrupts you. Instantly you’re moving around, grabbing a chair and the brush, rushing to sit her down.

As soon as she is sat down you put a pillow on the floor to sit on, singing the song as fast as you can. Your hair reached the bottom of your bum, thick and tangled from having a busy day, though you don’t wince or groan when she pulls at a knot, too excited and nervous to ask a question. Behind your closed eyes, you briefly see the glow of your hair along with a Zapp at how fast the magic worked.

“Y/N -” mother begins to scold, but you couldn’t care less.

“Mother, I was thinking about what I want for my birthday. Wou- would I b-be able to go outside. To see the floating lights?” Your once confident voice trails off with uncertainty, “They only appear on my birthday and I need to know what they are” you plead, moving to show her the painting you did today, behind the closed curtains. But your grip quickly loosens when you hear her next words.

“Y/n. You want to go outside? You know why we stay in the tower, trust me mother knows best.” She says firmly, standing up towering over you. Her eyes are as dark as her hair as she looks unimpressed, “there are many bad guys out there, diseases that can wipe you out. You know what they do to bright things in the world. They eat them up.”

“You don’t ever ask to go out of this tower ever again.” she finalises, pulling at your dress harshly, “do you understand?” Her gaze is firm and hard making you nod your head meekly. Though, she wanted more than that as she grabs your chin roughly, tilting your head to look her in the eye, “Yes mother I understand.” She beams at you and kisses your cheek. Grabbing the keys, she heads for the door and with another kiss to your head along with a quick I love you, she’s gone again.

Not soon after you could hear laboured breathing coming from the door, the person bangs against the door, followed by a groan. Frantically, you look at Pascal who also has wide eyes, who then points to the frying pan, “Pascal you’re a genius” you whisper. You run behind the door, continuously hearing the stranger try and break the door, making it rattle and echo throughout the room. Any moment now and he’ll end up-

The door breaks off its hinges, the chain now scraping across the ground. It’s silent for a moment as you watch the man look around, failing to look behind him. “OW.SHIT” He shouts when you hit him in the leg with the frying pan, he whips around to look at you. Your mother’s voice sounds in your head of the hideous men with sharp teeth and ill intentions. But this man in front of you was nothing like that. His white shirt was dirty and rolled up to his elbows as underneath was a blue vest, wheat-like string buttoning it together. Brown pants are tucked into brown, leather boots that have clearly been worn for a long time as they are scuffed with mud splattered on them. When your eyes finally land on the satchel in his hand, he moves it closer to himself protectively, interesting.

Like deja vu, you hear another step of footsteps and instantly you know who it is. You and the strange man look at each other wide-eyed and shove him under the stairs, where the kitchen is and hide him behind the curtain. The man stumbles from your push as you take the opportunity to take the satchel out of his hands. Luckily, your mother only gets halfway before she decides to shout, “Y/n, did you want me to get the paint from the beach?” you know that she is doing this so that you don’t talk about going out of the tower, “Yes, mother.” And she’s gone, once again, thankful that you didn’t have to explain why the door was broken.

Cautiously, you creep towards the kitchen, coming face to face with the man, frying pan at the ready in one hand, the satchel in the other. You both looked at each other, he was young, possibly around your age judging by his face. His eyes were deer-like, sparkling with a hint of mischievousness in them, slightly round cheeks but sharp jaw and eyebrows as his black hair slightly hung in front of his eyes, obvious that he hasn’t had it cut in a while. His eyes scan your figure, wanting to roll his eyes, you look innocent and scared. It was obvious that if he shouted at you right now, you would cower. However, he notices the satchel in your hand, “that’s mine, give it back.”

Shaking your head, you hold it closer to you, “No. why are you here?” you foreign confidence when in reality you could feel your erratic heartbeat in your chest. He wasn’t threatened as his face showed confusion, making his nose scrunch up, “Is that all of your hair?”

Your mind starts to connect the dots, “Do you want my hair, is that why you are here? How did you find me?” you accuse, trying to sound threatening.

“I don’t want your hair, I want to get out of here. Now, give me my satchel.” You were shocked by his firm and deep voice as he hardened his gaze on you. Neither of you said anything, his ice-cold stare not wavering as you came up with an idea.

“No. I won’t give you the satchel until you take me to see the floating lights tomorrow night. You will take me there and in return, you’ll get your satchel.”

“That’s it? You want to see the lanterns?” he sounds bored. Well, he shouldn’t have broken your door! You unconsciously pout and nod, “Yes.”

“So, is this a deal then?” he says, cocking his eyebrow. This will be easy.

“Yes.”

“Well let’s get going then”

The words make you pause, you’ll be leaving the tower. Without your mother’s permission. It was against the rules. What if she comes back early. No, you can’t think of that. You either leave the tower now or stay and never be able to see the outside world, “well what are you doing just standing there princess, let’s get moving.”

Feet firmly planted, you look up to the sky that is bright but soft all at once, it looks bigger from down here, reminding you how small you are in a big world. Looking back, you see the plants that have grown thick on the tower, stone of grey peeking out as rigid pieces crumble to the floor. The grass is soft on your feet as you timidly take a step forward, the bottom of your dress soaking up the morning dew as you bend down to pick out a flower. The petals are vibrant and proud as you softly brush your finger along the soft texture. Your hair flows behind you in the grass, but you don’t care. Pascal takes in a big, deep breath of the fresh air, peering over at the young man. He doesn’t trust him.

The man looks at you unimpressed, but in reality, he finds it quite endearing as you look around. The scenery was normal to him, but watching you appreciate all of the little details makes him think more about taking things for granted. But he can’t think like that. He needs to leave you - somewhere safe of course- and run. All he has to do is steal the satchel from you when you sleep and then he will be on his way. He strolls up to you and plucks the flower out of your hand, causing you to pout, but soon turns into a shy smile once he places it in your hair, next to your ear. Firstly, he has to gain your trust.

Walking away, he hears your feet pad on the ground before you walk next to him, “So, princess what’s your name?”

“Y/n.” You say softly, looking up at him, he mulls over what to say before talking, “Mine’s Jk.”

Now fully in the forest, you take it all in. Trees that you once looked over, towered over you causing you to smile like a kid in the candy store, they were bigger than you imagined. You gasped at the sight of a bunny, running over to it, the motion causing it to squeak and hop away. Subconsciously you frown with a pout prominent on your face, you only wanted to pet it, the fur looked so soft! JK looks over at you, cocking his head to the side. How strange and innocent you were, shrugging it off he walks off, wanting to get this over and done with.

“Hey - wait up.”

The woman trudges up the stairs, huffing with every step, her shoes clacking against the stone. She can sense that something is wrong, the echoing doesn’t sound as harsh to her eardrums as before. Thoughts of something getting to her precious prize, causing her to fasten her steps before she abruptly stops, two steps before the top. The wooden door lays on the floor, pieces of wood aloof. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears, adrenaline rushing through her as she shouts out, trying to find her. Pots and pans on the floor, material is thrown all over. Nothing.

As she lays on the cold, hardwood floor, she thinks about all of the possibilities of what could have happened. She can’t lay around all day, she has to do something. Standing up, she pulls her black cloak over her head as her blood-red dress dances against the door, her boots crushing the debris. She will do whatever it takes to get her back.

You walked until it was dark, the atmosphere between you both was awkward for the full day, asking him questions but only getting either one-word responses or gestures of yes or no. Goosebumps appear on your arms from the evening chill as crickets start to sing in the swaying grass.

“I’ll get some firewood, stay here.” He commands, not waiting for an answer as he walks off into the woods. The green canopy almost looks black, drained of colour almost like it was muted under the artist’s hand. Every noise and russell from the bushes makes you jump, you’ve practically been alone for most of your life, but you were surrounded by the tower walls. You’re vulnerable under the moon that shines in the night. It was a weird experience, you’ve seen the nightfall and the sunrise, yet witnessing it outside was so much more magical. You only wish that your companion would be better, but at least Pascal is with you, though he isn’t much help as you look over to find him knocked out on the edge of the branch that you’re sat on. The familiar crunch of boots makes you gaze up at the man, his biceps bulging in the shirt that he wears.

The fire crackles as soon as he has light it, you watch him silently as he tears a bit of his shirt off to stop the bleeding of a scrape on his arm. Maybe, you can get him to talk if you become closer. Wordlessly, you scoot over to him and reach out softly to stop him, he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows wondering what you were doing. Winding some hair around the cut, he hisses as your small hands press harder onto his forearm, with a cautious gaze you look up at him, “Please don’t be scared.” The vulnerability in your voice is evident as he looks at you skeptically.

“Flower gleam and glow” Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine”

Jungkook watches you as if you were crazy, but confusion knocks into him once he feels a tingle in his arm, looking as your hair starts to glow. Staring at your face, the light illuminating your face. Your eyes are closed firmly, he observes the silent features on your face that draws him closer to you, you look so young, yet so worn out. Watching as delicate lips sing the song.

“Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was mine.”

What and why were you in that tower?

Opening your eyes, he’s taken out of his thoughts, clearing his throat. Meekly, you look up at him as you unwrap your hair from his arm, the cut no longer there. You wait anxiously at what he will do next. You haven’t shown anyone other than your mother that.

“H-how long has your -uh. Magical Uhm. Hair been doing that?” He coughs when his voice cracks, not wanting to show how scared he actually feels.

“Forever. Something like this” You gesture to your hair, “has to be protected, that’s why my mother - why I never left the tower.” Your voice trails off at the end, still uncertain about what he is thinking.

His thoughts are running wild. He’s sitting there, in the middle of the night, with a girl who has magical hair. Is this a dream? Something like this doesn’t happen, maybe he’s going crazy. Maybe the guards have already taken him and this is all some sort of hallucination. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you twiddle your thumbs, waiting anxiously. He had a perfect plan for tonight, wait until you fall asleep, take the satchel and run. He knew you wouldn’t be able to stay awake for long, yet he doesn’t think he can do it. If someone gets to you, you’re a goner. And for some reason, it makes his gut twist at the thought of you in danger, especially after you showed him your little trick. People like him, eat people like you for dinner. He yearns to know everything about you already, but he doesn’t think he can bring himself to do it. He’s not a good person and you don’t deserve that.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh?” You look up at him quizzically.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook.”

You gaze up into his deep, marble eyes where you could see tales - most likely fascinating, secrets and stories that he’s held up in his head for years. He was far more interesting than you, that’s for sure.

“How did you find the tower?” You questioned, averting your eyes to pascal as he sleeps peacefully.

“I ran, I didn’t plan the journey to the tower, I just ended up there.” He says with a humourless laugh, thinking about how he had run away from the guards at the palace, then proceeding to ditch the two others. His eyes unconsciously flicking to the satchel around your shoulder. Was all of this worth it?

You nod at him, not knowing what to say, you want to know what he was running from, why he never gave you his real name from the start, why he was so desperate to get the satchel. You had so many questions for people outside of the tower, but now sitting in front of him, Jungkook, your mind runs blank. Yawning, you rub your eyes, but you’re fearful of sleeping outside. Will someone attack you? Will it rain? What if a giant creature comes and gets you?

“Easy there, princess. I can see your head about to blow smoke from how hard you’re thinking.” Jungkook said in a small voice, presumably not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night. Laying down, pieces of wood stabbed your side, but it would have to do if you want to get to the lanterns tomorrow. Your head lays gently on the bark, the constellations that have witnessed centuries watch over you both in this small moment before you finally close your eyes drifting off to sleep.

Jungkook looks over when he hears your breathing slowing down, to see you knocked out like a light. Chuckling to himself, he can imagine how hard today was compared to being in that tiny room in the tower. He sits on the grass, leaning against the log you’re asleep on, looking at your figure. He was so curious to know you, he never heard anything about a girl being locked up in a tower, and surprisingly, he felt bad for you. So youthful and full of wonder, and he was youthful but full of danger.

Luckily, the town wasn’t far from where you slept, only a couple of hours in the morning and you finally saw the opening to the village. Even from afar, you could feel the energy that the people emit, vibrant clothing shining in the sunlight as people dance to the music. They move around each other like pebbles in the water, flowing around one another, as they fill each other with adrenaline-pumping happiness. You only see joyful faces as they bring the village to life. Chatter between sellers and buyers as if they were old friends. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Mother was wrong, there are good people in the world. Pascal looks in wonder, as he hides in the pocket of your dress, he’s never seen something like this in his life. If he thought your paintings were colourful, this was on a whole other level as they whizzed past him.

Purple seemed to be the main colour as it is splashed onto every bit of material you see, as you get closer you see a group of young girls that paint a mural on the floor, a star in the middle of purple paint. A picture of, who you presume are the king and queen with a young daughter in their arms, was in front of the painting.

Jungkook watches you silently as you smile widely, your eyes darting in every which way to take everything in. He gently grabs at your sleeve and tugs you towards one of the stands who does hair, sitting you in the chair. You look up at him questioningly, as the woman starts to braid your hair, making sure not to hurt you. She doesn’t question the twigs and leaves she finds, simply plucking them out. You sit in wonder, trying not to dart your head around to see more.

Your hair feels lighter and is easier to manage as you walk past the stalls. Briefly, you smell something sweet as you get closer to a particular one, your face lighting up at the sweetness. You pause your steps, taking a closer look at what it was.

Jungkook turns around to find that you’re not following him anymore, sending him into a panic as all he can see is a crowd of people. He’s familiar with his heart racing, normally from running away, but as he looks around he feels a different type of adrenaline, but all he has to do is breathe before calming down. His eyes are quick to find you, your purple dress matching perfectly with the theme as your hair flows down your back, flowers intertwined in certain strands. Walking towards you, he laughs when he sees your nose practically smudged against the glass that holds the doughnuts. You stare at him in shock, forgetting that you were supposed to follow him, causing heat to rise in your body.

“Do you want one?” He asks softly, nodding towards the sweet treat. You nod enthusiastically, causing another chuckle to rise from his throat as he hands the man behind the glass some money. You whisper a thank you as you take it from him, “what is this called?”

“It’s a doughnut.” He’s careful in calling you princess in the village, knowing it’s a sensitive topic and he doesn’t need to be at the center of attention right now, especially with all of the guards that he has seen. Tentatively, he watches you take your first bite, a giggle passes your lips once you’ve eaten it, taking another bite, clearly enjoying it as your cheeks fill like chipmunks. He watched fondly, before catching himself. No, he can’t fall for you. In a flash, he turns serious, cocking an eyebrow at you. Humiliation falls over you, at your obvious display of enjoyment. You’re not sure what you’ve done, but you still feel it as he looks at you with his sharp gaze. Lowering the doughnut, you avoid eye contact before nodding at him to continue with where you were walking to, giving the last of it to pascal.

However, you get distracted once again at a group of people dancing, their bodies speaking for how they feel. You have danced before, in the comfort of the walls you call home, but here where you see young girls skipping and weaving past the seas of people, smiling as if nothing bad ever happened, you realise that you’ve never truly danced. Forgetting about the moment earlier, you grab Jungkook’s hand and dance with him. His larger hands encased in yours as you follow the rhythm, being carefree of everything, feeling freedom run in your bones. You know that after tonight, life goes on as normal, so today you will be free of all of your worries.

Smiling and giggling you look up to find him mirroring your expression. His laugh is beautiful as you finally get to see him enjoy himself, maybe he has realised that he can also be carefree. Your feet pad against the stone floor, you know you’ll have to make up an excuse as to why your feet are battered and bruised when you get home, but right now you don’t care.

But you’re soon thrown out of this dream when his eyes widen, looking at something behind you. You go to look back when he softly puts your head in his chest, holding you close, your breath hitches at the contact of your bodies pressed together. The feeling of having someone so close was bizarre, even your mother didn’t hold you like this especially as long as this. Suddenly, he pulls away, holding your hand in his as he runs, shouting of guards impales your ears, clattering of boots and metal follow behind you as each step is calculated. Not used to the exertion of energy your breathing starts to get laboured as you both rush past people, it’s all a blur as your steps start to falter, Jungkook’s grip on your hand getting tighter. Your bare feet sting as they slap against the moss-laden rock, each stride of his were worth at least two of yours, his long legs and previous endeavours made this easy, barely breaking a sweat. With a good distance between you and the guards, Jungkook drags you around another corner and into a darker and smaller passageway. Abruptly he shoves you against the wall, causing you to wince, his body once again up against yours. In your pocket, you barely realise that Pascal is shaking, clinging onto your dress for dear life. But all you can do is look at his face, tight-lipped and his gaze is sharp as he listens for the guards, your breath hot against his hand that is against your lips, keeping you quiet. His own breathing is steady but slightly offbeat as for the first in a while, he is scared of being caught. He’s been running away from guards the whole of his life, but he couldn’t get you in trouble because of his actions. You can hear the guards getting closer, footsteps matching in beat with each other, trained to perfection as they rush past you both.

A sigh of relief from him as you smile up towards him, “that was an adventure” you laugh. The adrenaline that pumped through you was certainly a new experience, though your feet are paying the price as you look down at them. Jungkook copies you and looks at how red and bruised your feet are making him grimace. He opens his pouch in his pocket and hands you some coins and points to one of the stalls, “I’ll stay here, are you alright buying your own shoes?”

Looking around you don’t see any of the guards and nod at him, slightly uncertain. You’ve only socialised with two people, but you can do this! You can totally do this! Hesitantly, you walk up to the stall before looking back to Jungkook to find him standing with a smile and two thumbs up. Briefly, you look down to Pascal who nods at you, a small smile on his face. You nod your head again and continue forward, with timid steps before looking around at the shoes on show before finding a pair of loafers, white with a golden pattern on the front, matching perfectly with your dress. The woman that owns the stall laughs at you before guiding you to try them on. You smile widely at her before giving her the coins, to which she accepts with a small smile, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons. Putting them on your feet, you wiggle your toes before skipping back to Jungkook. He smiles at you watching your eyes brighten up, talking animatedly about how you think they’re pretty and soft. Again, he can feel his heart skip a beat. But once more he ignores it. He’s not meant for you.

Unknown to both of you Pascal notices the looks he gives you and tilts his head, maybe he isn’t as bad as he thought.

As the sun descends and an ashen moon rises into the darkness he walks you along the beach, where a river lies in front of the castle. A small rowing boat sits upon the pale yellow of the sand, still against the calm waves. Jungkook unwinds the rope from the wooden pole and throws it into the boat. Holding out a hand he helps you get in as he pushes it off into the ocean, jumping in after, making the boat rock. You yelp and hold on to the side, crouching into a ball as you can feel it rock beneath you. You hear him laugh as he sits down, not bothered by the sway of the waves. He grabs the paddles and starts to row, you watch as his face contorts into concentration, his tongue bulges against his cheek, his once injured hand gripping the paddle with a tough grip, veins run along his forearm. A foreign feeling surges through you as you watch him, butterflies invading your stomach.

Soon enough you’re in the middle of the river, as he stops rowing, wiping off the sweat that formulated on his forehead with the back of his hand. Swiftly, Pascal crawls to the side of the boat and seats himself on the wood, waiting for the lights to warm up the sky. One particular question has been nagging in the back of your head ever since you saw the lanterns, “why do they send them off every year on my birthday?”

“The lanterns?” You nod.

“The daughter of the King and Queen was taken on this day and was never seen again. They hope by sending these lanterns off that she will find her way back.” He sighs, running his fingers through his already unruly hair. You know that he is hiding something as he avoids your eyes, looking out in the water. Before you can say anything a singular light floats up into the sky followed by thousands more. Gasping, you jump to the edge of the boat, trying to get a closer look, ignoring the tilt of the boat in your excitement. Lanterns illuminated like stars against the inky black night, the water merged the reflection of those in the sky, an autumn orange. Inside each lantern holds a small candle, lit with a prayer, calling out for the lost daughter. The pale silk hand-painted with the same star you saw earlier.

A cough from behind you causes you to look back, to find Jungkook sat with two lanterns in his hand and a sheepish smile on his face. Gasping, you reach forward to grasp one, and softly it floats between your fingers and into the sky, circling around Jungkook’s. The world feels like it’s shifted, warm and bright even in the crisp night. Turning around, you thrust the satchel in his hands, “You took me to the lanterns. This is my end of the deal.”

Shaking his head, he pushes it away, “I don’t want it.”

Tilting your head in confusion, he continues to look in your eyes, his eyes uncharacteristically soft, leaning closer to you, “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve changed me. You made me question everything that I’ve done if only I had met you sooner.” you can feel his breath on your face, his gaze wavering to look down at your lips as you unconsciously lick your lips. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you scoot closer to him, resting your hands on his knees. Your lips centimetres apart before the boat rocked, but it wasn’t due to the waves. A dark shadow cast over the both of you, laughter of three people getting closer to the boat, “well, look what we have here.” A rough voice calls out.

Looking up, you find your mother standing next to two men who are easily 6 foot in height, scars all over their bodies. Slamming their boat into yours, you go to topple over the edge beforehand reaches out and pulls you into them, “My sweet, precious daughter.” Her familiar scent engulfs your senses, her bony frame hugging you in a death grip. Jungkook heaves in a breath as his wet form is slung into the boat, coughing up water. The two men hold him in a vice grip, hauling him up by his arms as his body shivers from the cold.

Struggling to get out of your mother’s grip, Jungkook looks up at you and shakes his head, telling you to stop. Ignoring him, you continue, “Let him go.”

“Oh no, sweetheart. He took you from me, we can’t have that can we?” her patronising voice sings in your ear. One of the men punches him in the gut, as the other kicks his back legs causing him to fall to his knees, the wood digging into his skin from the impact. “And these lovely boys helped me, aren’t they sweet,” she says, grabbing your chin and harshly tugging it to make you look at them. An uppercut to head and he spits out blood, “Mother. Stop.” your voice is filled with panic, watching helplessly as they repeatedly punch him and kick him. Your mind goes wild, why isn’t he fighting back? Pascal watches on with wide eyes, knowing that he can’t do anything, feeling useless.

The pain that he feels is excruciating but he doesn’t do anything other than let it happen. He hears your blood-curdling screams but it comes in and out like waves, his sight becoming blurry as they continue. He deserves this. The stealing, the robbing, the slowly falling in love with you. He doesn’t deserve to be in your life. He screams as he’s cut in the shoulder, the knife shortly ripped out of him to be plunged into his left side. His blood is hot as it pours out, burning his cold figure. Looking up, he finds your face covered in tears, eyes bloodshot as you kick and scream for your mother to stop. You were one of a kind. He didn’t know how you did it, but you made him want to change for the better. He didn’t want the crown. He didn’t want wealth. He wanted you. But fate had a cruel way of showing him that he couldn’t have you. Another stab, another scream. Not from him, but you. He smiles weakly at you as he can feel himself about to pass out, his skin turning paler by the second.

“Mother, please,” you beg, tears cascading down your face like lava.

“Boys.” She says simply, both of them stopping and holding a bruising grip on his arms. His head sags, not having the energy to look up at you anymore.

“P-please. Please… Let me heal him and then you can take me. I’ll l-live with you forever. You and me. I’ll never go outside, I’ll do everything you ask of me. Just let me heal him and let him go.” You sniffle and choke on your words, breathless from screaming. Your mother cocks her head to the side before looking back to the two men, “Shoo. Take the crown and go.” A sick, twisted smile coats their faces as they both look at each other before jumping into the boat you came on, picking up the satchel and rowing away. Jungkook slumps to the floor, weakly holding onto his side.

Her grip on you disappears and you throw yourself to the floor, “Jungkook.” You frantically try and stop the blood, but too much has already been lost, “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” you whisper, pushing down on one his wounds causing him to wince.

“Y/n.” you ignore him, grabbing your hair in your hands to wrap around him, before pale hands grip yours, “I can’t let you do this.” A single tear makes its way down his face, his hands are cold against yours signifying that you don’t have much time left.

“Please, please let me do this or you’ll die.” you softly caress his cheek, moving some hair out of his face, “If I let you do this, you’ll die.” he whispers, eyes blinking rapidly to try and stay awake. His breathing is heavy as he wheezes. Gently, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into him as your body shakes, “I love you.” With all of the energy that he can muster he snatches the knife from the floor before grabbing your hair and cutting it in one swipe. Jagged lines of hair fall to the ground, as you gaze at him with wide eyes.

A piercing screech comes from your mother, “what have you done?” she shouts, pulling her cloak over her, as she stammers around the boat before reaching the edge. It was like it was in slow motion as she topples over the edge and into the water, her arms flaring, struggling to keep afloat before her body slowly sank, as her body ages before you.

Jungkook’s grip around you becomes weaker, his breathing getting slower. Your heart sinks to your stomach, as you watch him take his last breath. “No, no, no, no, no” you whisper, choking as a sob threatens to tear at your throat. Pascal climbs on top of him, eyes sad as he watches the both of you, beneath him he can feel Jungkook’s breathing slowing down. Your hands shake as you watch blood ooze from his wounds, and you burst like a dam. Salty tears run down your face, racking with sobs. This was your fault, he didn’t deserve this. If only you would have stayed in the tower. If only you didn’t fall in love with him.

“Flower gleam and glow” Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine.

Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was m-mine.”

Your voice cracking continuously as you breathed the song. It was a bittersweet moment as the lanterns around you continued to float around you, full of life, burning into the ever glowing night sky, almost like they were mocking you. Light beamed around you, a golden hue spiraled around the both of you like it was dancing to a song before bursting, like a firework, into the star that has been engraved into your memory since this morning.

A wave of dizziness crashes over you, making you lose balance, your hands scraping against the wood. Flashes of memories burst through your mind. A small hand touching bigger ones. Chubby legs that look like they’re learning to walk for the first time. A mobile hanging from above the crib. And a star. The same star that you painted on your ceiling. The same star that’s been in front of your very eyes this entire day. Another flash and you see a man and a woman. The parents of the lost daughter.

Gasping, you see Jungkook getting up and holding his head in his hands, his body feeling sore. Throwing yourself at him once again, you swallow thickly holding back another sob. Gradually, he lifts himself up whilst keeping his arms around you, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“J-Jungkook. I-”

“It’s fine, I know,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head as he manoeuvres your body to sit in his lap. “Y-you know what I am?” you sniffle, looking up at him, watching as he nods. “There was no way that you weren’t the missing princess. A girl that was kept in a tower, magical powers and the fact you looked identical to the picture painted on the wall in the middle of the village? I put it together fairly fast”

Leaning up, you kiss him softly on the lips but soon gets broken as you both start smiling uncontrollably, “Let’s get you home, princess.”

The balcony stood over the village, the open porch in front of you was held with detailed pillars, painted in a brilliant white. The architecture fitting perfectly with the village buildings, get standing out in the most ostentatiously way as the castle stood the tallest. Guards surrounded the both of you, causing Jungkook to be on his toes. If this all goes wrong you’ll both be jailed for life. The white stone of the castle glistened in the summer sun as you both wait anxiously.

Heels clack on the polished floor, steps full of purpose as you clutch Jungkook’s hand tighter. Two people; a man and women step out. A gasp escapes them both as your eyesight gets blurry. Your parents. Your mother runs towards you and embraces you, knocking the wind out of you as she storks your cheek as if you were made of glass, her bloodshot eyes smiling at you with love, “y/n.”

“Mother, father.” you smile at them taking a hand each in your own.

“This is Jungkook. He helped me get here.” You say as you turn around to face him. Your dad walks towards him, boot heavy on the ground as he embraces him, “thank you for bringing my daughter home.”

Smiling at the sight, you pull Jungkook towards you and squeeze him tight, “thank you.” you whisper into his chest, feeling the rumble of his chest as he laughs, “anything for you princess.”

Pascal squeaks from Jungkook’s shoulder before turning blue, when all of the attention is on him from his celebration of joy, making you all laugh and coo at him. The princess of the tower was finally free.

Please comment and reblog, tell me what you think!! It took me around 2 weeks to write this and I’m sorry if the ending isn’t as good :(( But I still hope you enjoyed

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thecaptainhelm · 4 years ago

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Aesthetically Pleasing

Super excited, so without further delay, here is my day one. Also heads, my writing style is doing that weird evo thing so if the tone is weird, that’s why. And the minimal editing, that too. ;D

Day 1: Inspiration

@daminette-december2019-2020

Damian walked through the streets of Paris at a sedate pace with the bare essentials, in no particular hurry as he made his way to the address written in his sketchbook. He hasn’t been to France much, not since his days with the Shadows, and even then he only stayed in this particular city for the rare surveillance mission.

It’s different somehow, he mused. Father had taken him and the rest of the family for a ‘pleasure jaunt’, while he touched base with the European branch of the Justice League. For the sake of a cover story, he publicized it as family vacation and encouraged everyone to take a few days to themselves before they made fools of themselves for the local and international media houses. Not something he was looking forward to, so he would make the most of these next few days.

Soon, he found himself at the entrance of a secluded park, the metal plaque translating to Solitude’s Grace in english. It was relatively new and was constructed to convert an old parking lot into a small and intimate park, at least when compared to others in the city. Plentiful flora, Edwardian columns and street lamps providing him with a sense of being stuck in time, a romanticized feeling.

He made his way in, taking a deep breath as he did so. With the way the park was constructed, it’s distance from the busy tourist sites, and the muffling effect of the surrounding hedge fence, the park is quiet and comforting. He sets out on a stone path, occasionally passing by others who seem to find the same relief he does in being alone. He sighs this time, heading further in to find a place to sit. If there’s one disadvantage to this place, it’s that everyone wants a seat to themselves, and he didn’t feel like sitting next to someone on the off chance of them trying to make conversation.

As he goes, the overcast sky breaks somewhat and opens over an occupied stone bench, revealing a girl who appears to be around his age. In that moment, were he a different kind of man, he would have called a sight like this a chance from fate. As he got closer, he saw that she was cute, quite pretty in fact. Her legs were clad in washed out skinny jeans, white polka dotted converse and a white vest to tie it all together. Her hair was pulled into twin tails over her shoulders, shining like silk in her temporary spotlight. The sudden light reflected off of her pale skin and emphasized her silhouette with a divine halo.

However, what truly captivated him was her presence. She exuded a relaxed and casual atmosphere, flipping through a small sketchbook, occasionally jotting something down tongue stuck out of a focused grin. In that instant he saw the scene before him as a moment of indulgence, a moment to enjoy a hobby and unwind in nature.

A familiar feeling spread through his chest as he observed her, fingers twitching. He knew what this feeling was, he knew it very well, little as it happened.

He watched her lean onto her palms, seeing the relaxed curve of her spine as she tilted her head up to look up at the gap of sunlight as it moved over to him, and then her eyes, a stunning blue that widened slightly as she caught sight of him. He saw the way they brightened, and knew that she felt as he did, too. He changed direction and made his way to the mysterious beauty.

His breath stuttered in his chest as she stood to make her way to him as well. With every move she made he found her all the more beautiful.

The tilt of her smile, the roving of her eyes up and down his form, the sunlight providing a fading halo as she moved toward him--

“Salut,” he said at the same time she said, “Hello.”

“Oh, désolée,” she stammered over his own, “My apologies, I’ve--”

They both fell into silence before she abruptly started laughing, and heavens, if he thought that she was pretty before then seeing her so expressive was like waking up to dream.

“Amazing,” he murmured to himself, and patiently waited for her to regain control.

“I’m sorry,” she said in english, her accent pronounced. “I’ve been speaking to tourists all day for the past few weeks. I’ve formed an unfortunate habit.”

“There’s no need for apologies, I believe. Also, if I may say, I think the lady speaks beautifully.” He bowed with an arm across the waist.

“My name is Damian. This may seem brusque, but I have a request to make of you, should you deign to hear me out.” Her eyebrow quirked at his polite speech but it didn’t last as she looked at him more seriously.

She observed him for a moment, a brief period that seemed to stretch on for minutes as her eyes pierced through his.

“Well, as long as it’s reasonable. And,” she paused, gazing intensely at his...shoulders?

“And, if you grant one of mine.” She grinned brightly and clasped her fist in her palm.

“My name is Marinette. Enchanté, Damian.”

He nodded and nodded back to her bench. She nodded in return and soon they sat facing each other.

“I’ll be honest, this is a little weird, you think? At least, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking.” Marinette started, fidgeting as she spoke.

“Then I believe great minds think alike, Marinette. This is rather forward of me, but I would like you to pose for me.” He held up his sketchbook and opened it to a few of his drawings of people, animals and landscapes. She looked at them all with an appreciative gaze that had him inwardly preening.

“In that case, may I have your measurements in turn, as well as some quick poses?” Damian’s face went carefully blank and he stood up to make a quick escape. She jumped a bit at his sudden movement, and appeared confused before her eyes widened as she interpreted his reaction to her last sentence.

“Wait, wait, not in a gross way, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m so sorry!” She squawked as she flailed her arms in a panic, a blush overtaking her face. Idly, he wondered if she was trying to take flight with all the flapping she was doing.

Still, he could admit when he jumped to conclusions. Well, actually he made the rare exception now and again, but she didn’t have to know that.

He looked her in the face and after a tense silence, raised a single brow as though to say, “Well?”

“Designer! I’m a designer, I make clothes, graphic art, and accessories! I’m not trying to harass you I swear and I’m so sorry that I even made you think that way and I’m so sorry I made you get up to run as if you were in danger, but it’s not if, you really thought you were in danger of being with a weird sexual harasser and--” her face was starting to get to an alarming shade of red.

“Stop,” he snapped and her mouth clicked shut. He nearly sighed as out loud as he saw how she almost bit her tongue in her hurry. His frustration quickly faded as he saw her retreat into herself, quickly becoming distracted.

It’s truly artfully done, he thought, I would think she was posing on purpose if I didn’t know any better.

He would make a few changes to her posture and fix the lighting, but other than that he would take her as is in a heartbeat. Everything about her was urging him to commit her form to paper, an immortalized vision frozen in time.

“I, um,” she sighed, gaze averted. “That happens more than I like unfortunately. I, it’s, um,” she sighed again.

“I also would like to apologize for jumping to conclusions. Propositions tend to come my way, unwarranted, so I was quick to assume,” he said stiffly.

“Can we move on, please. I don’t, uh, know the specifics of your proposal anyway.”

“Of course,” he said curtly. “I only use my drawings as a personal form of enjoyment, and rarely show it to others beyond close personal friends and family. As well as ensuring that your image is safe and protected, I would also like to pay you to be my model, even if it’s only for a few hours at most.”

Marinette nodded slowly and he committed the change of shading to her features as she moved to memory along with her thoughtful expression.

“I don’t have a problem with that, but would you mind if I do your measurements after, sitting still for a long time makes me feel sluggish and I don’t like to walk around trying to wake myself up in public spaces.”

“Not at all,” he assured. “If that’s the case, I wouldn’t mind you taking your sketches first, switching out would be more beneficial to you at the end.”

“Why, that does sound nice, but it might just make me feel bad,” she said teasingly. Seeing his confused frown, she giggled.

“I can tell just by looking at you that you’re practically dying to get me posing for you,” she grinned at him, eyes sparkling.

“Tch, since you insist,” he said without trying to fight her on it because she was right. During their entire exchange he’d been drinking in her every detail like depraved loon.

“If you would gather your things, in that case? I don’t know how much longer I can wait until I get my hands on you.” Hearing this, she blushed and began to stutter.

“Oh, uh, yeah, gazebo by lake, middle park of, um,” she quickly looked down as she grabbed her jacket and backpack.

Without any lingering qualms, he leaned over her to look at her face more closely.

“Yes, that’s exactly the face I want to see,” he rasped with dark eyes.

“Ok, I’m ready! Let me lead the way, native and what not!” She laughed nervously as she hurried to the center of the park.

Damian grunted and slung his satchel over his shoulder and easily matched her stride.

He became preoccupied thinking of ways to shift and coordinate her body to the scenery, which is why it felt like no time at all when they reached the gazebo.

It was a brown, humbly crafted structure that matched the atmosphere of the park, with its rose hedges wrapping around the fencing and lacquered benches and railings. He and Marinette walked up the steps together and soon he was pulling out his sketchbook and turning toward his model in a hurry.

“If I may?” He held out his hands and waited for her approval. Marinette set her things down next to his and took a deep breath before whispering a soft okay.

He slowly approached her lightly grasped her shoulders, gently pressing down and her body folded to sit on the bench behind her. He let go, trailing his hand to her wrist and bending her down, down, down, until she was leaning over an empty space bracketed by her forearm. He backed away slightly, turning her head to gaze at the invisible person beneath her. Finally, he lightly pulled her lower lip into a subtle opening as if she were helpless to give in and close the final distance for a kiss. He traced her cheek and that blush from before rose, a new sight in the different lighting and he memorized it.

Done with her head and torso, he told her that he was going to touch her legs, and she gave the ok again. Carefully, he curled both legs in the same direction, spreading them somewhat and planting one foot down as though it was going to push her up and let the other loosely rest at a comfortable angle.

Stepping back he saw the image he desired, but somehow better. The sky had turned a pale bluish gray that gave Marinette, posed as she was, a fragile halo.

He grasped his sketchbook and began.

An hour later, on his fourth sketch and her third and final pose, it started to rain.

Marinette, leaning against the bench with her head tilted a bit over its edge, gasped as the cold water pelted her face out of nowhere.

Damian cursed, rushing to grab their things and move them to the center of the floor and the rain began in earnest.

He’s kneeling as he puts them down, so when his new model leans over him to grab at her backpack, he looks up on instinct and gets a face full of a wet jamila.

Marinette is only somewhat wet from the pouring rain, but the sky is still bright with that bluish gray from earlier and provides a backdrop of faint light to reflect off the few raindrops that are trailing from her bangs, dripping off her dark, fluttering eyelashes to roll down freckled cheeks in a mimicry of tears that leaves him ensorcelled.

“I have a towel in my bag, could you…?” She makes a vague gesture for him to move and Damian is distantly aware that his expression is akin to that of a slack jawed moron. He rose up to his full height, and he feels that he can’t help his next words.

“Sincerely, you become lovelier and lovelier the more I look at you,” he reverently intoned as he stared into her eyes, watching with rapt attention as her own stare focused on him.

“It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one feeling this way,” she said. “From the moment I saw you I couldn’t help but memorize the way you looked then, underneath a circle of dappled sunlight.” She licked her lips, blue eyes darkening to a silvery hue.

“I really,” her eyes begin to run a trail from shoulder to shoulder, down his chest and stopping at his waist.

“I really liked your posture when you bowed earlier,” she said in a breathless whisper.

“Is that so?” He matched her tone, watching her appraise him.

“With the proper shirt, I could really emphasize that, give you a mandarin collar and make the cuffs round themselves out, three holes, one for the cufflinks and the other two to anchor the embroidery. A pale grey with geometric patterns to call attention to the rigidity of your stance and will allow for others to make note of your impeccable discipline.”

“Thank you,” he said and found that he meant it. “For agreeing to this, I mean. Today has been so…”

“Magical?” She guessed.

“Fulfilling.” He watched as a small rain droplet trickled down her cheek and brought his hand up to wipe it away.

“I never thought a day like this would happen,” he continued. “To think I met my muse an ocean away from home.”

“Muse? Me?” Marinette said in wonder. There was that blush again, delicately framing her freckles in a pink hue that spread all the way up to her ears.

“Indeed,” he said. “ After all, no other person has inspired me as swiftly as you did.”

“Likewise, Damian.”

They stood there together under the gazebo until the rain settled completely. They parted in opposite directions, longing but reassured with the knowledge that they wouldn’t be separated for long.

In the space between them, lightning flashed above and thunder rolled quietly in the distance.

#daminette #daminette december 2020 #maribat

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kusunogatari · 4 years ago

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[ ObiRyū October | Day Sixteen | Incantation ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi ] [ Verse: Ghost Among the Ghosts ]

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“Hi, Mom...it’s me again. I brought you some fresh flowers! Sorry I left the other ones here so long...I’ve been busy the last few weeks. School is going well, but...it’s a lot of work. I’m keeping my grades up, at least. But that means less time for...everything else. And no, I still don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, for that matter. But maybe that’s a good thing. I’d be really inattentive lately, and that wouldn’t be fair. I dunno, maybe I’ll meet someone after, y’know? But if work is busy too, then...guess I’ll just be a crazy old cat lady. Though I don’t have a cat yet…”

She’s rambling. But then again, that usually happens when she takes a day to catch up with her mother. Sitting cross-legged in the grass, Ryū lets an elbow rest on a knee, chin held in a palm. It’s nice to just...sit and chat.

And given Reika can’t really reply, it means she can go on for as long as she wants.

“Dad came to visit yesterday. That was nice. He said he was going to stop by and see you while he was here. I hope he did. Guess he didn’t leave anything, but...well, I told him I was going to stop by today. Maybe he just figured things would get cluttered, otherwise.”

Beyond the freshly-replaced flowers, Reika’s headstone is clear. There’s a small growth of lichen, but she’ll take care of that while she’s here. Otherwise, the polished black marble is flawless.

“Anyway...I guess there’s really not much else to report. Kinda stuck in a bit of a slog, I suppose. Same routine over and over. Classes change, but the routine doesn’t.” Shifting positions, she leans back on her palms, sighing. “There’s a few people I’ve seen in a couple of classes with me, but...haven’t really made any friends. Dad says I’d scare them away anyway cuz I spend so much time here.” Ryū can’t help a snicker. “I might’ve had my baby goth phase in high school, but it didn’t stick. I just...like dark clothes and hanging out with my dead mom! Nothing weird about that, right?”

The only answer is wind rustling through the cemetery trees.

Another sigh escapes her, seeming to get lost in thought. “...guess I kinda just fell into it all. The image, I mean. People were always calling me Ghost, so...it was easier to roll with it than fight it. Is that weird? Maybe not. Guess I just kinda adopted it. Maybe part of it’s still sticking, huh?”

Another thoughtful silence before she straightens, hauling herself to her feet and brushing leaves and grass from her clothes. “Well...I won’t bug you any more today. Though I’m not really looking forward to heading back to my dorm. It’s so cramped, and my roommate snores. Not to mention I have an essay to do when I get there. So maybe I’ll just...wander around a bit. Y’know...procrastinate.”

After clearing the lichen, Ryū says her goodbyes before heading further into the cemetery rather than back toward the gate.

It’s strange. She’s here so often, yet she’s never really taken the time to look at any other parts of the graveyard. Even back when she was embracing her spooky image in high school.

Better late than never, she supposes.

The further you go, the older the plots get...and eventually, entire family crypts start popping up. Ryū eyes them curiously, feeling an old itch start bubbling up to the surface. Maybe she’ll just...take some pictures. For old time’s sake. Surely nobody will mind, right?

Out comes her phone, subtly snapping photos of some of the more unique headstones. One bears an entire full-size weeping angel, arms outstretched to the sky in mourning.

“Wicked…!”

Okay maybe her goth phase isn’t as over as she likes to pretend it is.

Soon enough she’s losing herself in it, taking artsy pics of as much spooky splendor as she can manage. The cloudy Autumn day only adds to the atmosphere, she can’t help it!

And then she hits the motherlode.

Looming up out of the gloom is one of the crypts: its own stone building to inter members of a family. And this one is massive...let alone clearly old as old gets. A wrought iron gate blocks access to the interior, and no matter how she cranes her neck, Ryū can only see so far.

Backing up a few paces, she realizes there isn’t a family name carved anywhere in the stone. That’s a bit odd. Instead, a phrase is etched along the top of the threshold. Usually it’s something in Latin, but...this doesn’t look quite right.

Brow furrowing, Ryū reads it over a few times in her head. Maybe it is Latin and she’s just...really rusty. But her curiosity persists, and so she googles it.

...nothing really comes up.

Well, drat.

A sigh escapes her, tucking away her phone for the moment. Under her breath, she tries sounding it out, doing so slowly with the Latin pronunciation that she knows.

As soon as she finishes, a flash of cold washes over her, seemingly coming up from the crypt.

Every hair on her body stands on end, tensing as eyes fly wide.

...what the…?

Fog then begins to plume up the steps, curling around the gate. And as she stares, Ryū sees hands slowly reach to grip the bars. Then with an ear-splitting creak, it starts to swing open.

Oh this is not good...what did she do?! What, was that some kind of...incantation? That stuff isn’t real…! And why would it be carved into a crypt?!

A deep, raspy chuckle then sounds, and a shiver runs its way up her spine. Every part of her brain is screaming at her to run...but she can’t get her legs to move, locked into place as she trembles.

“Well well...been a while since anyone’s given those words a read. Was starting to wonder if anyone would ever bother…”

With a lurch, she manages to stumble back half a step, body feeling rigid and stubborn. “Who...who’s there…?”

“You mean to tell me you read the invocation, and you don’t even know who you’re talking to? I should be offended. And here I was so relieved at finally getting a chance to stretch my legs! Hell gets so boring after a while…”

A figure then starts to emerge from the fog. And Ryū’s heart feels about ready to jump right out of her chest. Hell...this person’s from Hell? Then...doesn’t that mean -?

“I guess I can still manage an introduction. But...you first, hm? Only polite, since you rang.”

...is it wise to tell them that? “It...it’s Ryū. M-my name is...is Ryū.”

“Ryū…?” They seem to roll the word around in their mouth, as if tasting it. “Hm...I suppose that’ll do. And my name...is Obito.”

They take one last step, and Ryū beholds the demon in all their glory.

...it’s not an image she expects.

It’s not a gargoyle-like creature. No cloven hooves, no horns. It’s just a...a man? Wearing black slacks, shining black shoes, a violet button-down shirt, and a black vest. A hand wrapped in a fingerless glove adjusts a matching purple tie. Short dark hair, glowing red eyes, and...and…

Scars. All over the right side of his face. Some even peek up from under the loose collar of his shirt.

“Why is it everybody always stares, hm? Something on my face?”

Ryū forces herself to blink. “...I-I -?”

Ignoring her, the demon glances around. “...huh. Not where I expected to pop up. No one’s used this place in a long time. Being nosy, are we?”

“Wh-? N-no! I...I was just looking, and…?”

“And decided to recite the obviously-demonic carving on the wall?”

She sputters. Obviously demonic? How was she supposed to know?! “I-I didn’t know that’s what it was! I-I swear!”

Obito just rolls his eyes. “Uh huh. That’s what they all say.”

“Can’t you just, um...g-go back where you came from?”

“I’m afraid not, you see…” He starts sauntering toward her, her own legs attempting to retreat. “Demons, once called out of Hell, can only return once they have their contracted’s soul in their possession. It’s a system. And given that you called me...that means you.”

“I-I didn’t call you! It was an accident!”

“Yes, yes...you humans and your accidents.” He steps closer, Ryū finding herself with nowhere to run as her back finds a tree. Leaning in, Obito gives her a very unabashed once-over. “...hm…”

“W...what?”

“I think you’re lying.”

“Wh-? Why would I lie?!”

“Because I can smell it on you.”

“Smell what? I-I just took a shower this morning before I came to see Mom!”

Obito gives a roll of his eyes. “Oh, brother...so you don’t know…?”

“Know what?!”

“That you’re a witch.”

She freezes. “...I’m a...a what?”

“Oh come, now. Your appearance is telling enough. Tell me...did your mother look like you? All ghost-like…?”

Ryū feels the blood draining from her face. “...I…”

“Thought so.”

“I am not a witch! I just had a goth phase in high school! And the only reason I did was because everyone forced it on me!”

“And why do you think they did that?”

“Because I look like this!”

“And? You really think they couldn’t tell? It’s a subconscious thing, especially in this day and age. Very few people legitimately cry ‘witch’ nowadays. Most who do just get laughed at, but they’re out there. Or rather, you’re out there.”

Head shaking, Ryū rebuke, “Well...still! Witch or not, I did not call you here on purpose! So just...go back where you came from, and leave me alone!”

“I told you, I can’t do that. Not until I harvest that soul of yours. Or...mine, really. Semantics.”

She stares at him. “...so, I...I really am stuck with you…?”

“Until you utilize your contract, that’s exactly right. So hurry up and make your request so we can get this over with.”

“...and if I don’t?”

“Don’t what?”

“What if I don’t make a request? What if I just...ignore this so-called contract I didn’t agree to? Then what?”

Obito’s face goes slack. “...you can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, contracts have consequences the longer they go on. Consequences that are rather dire for mortals. Eventually you’d just be begging for me to end it, so there’s no real point in drawing things out.”

“I could...I could hire an exorcist!”

That earns an outright laugh. “Oh, you could. But it wouldn’t go well. We’re contracted. My suffering is your suffering. And vice versa.”

...well shit. She’s running out of ideas. Surely by now demons are rather used to all the ways humans try and wriggle their ways out of contracts. Ryū’s eyes flicker back and forth, trying to think of a solution.

All the while, looking amused, Obito watches her. He’s never actually met someone from a witch bloodline before. While they don’t all look like she does, that just makes her all the more unique. Part of him wonders what her skills would be. Are witch souls worth more than a regular human soul…? He’s not actually sure. But he’ll admit, it feels rather tantalizing compared to other humans he’s contracted with. Almost seems a shame to waste it.

“...you know, there is one way to circumvent this whole ordeal.”

He speaks without meaning to, her head shooting up.

“...and what would that be?”

“You could always become a demon yourself. It’s not easy, and technically you’d still be damned, but...you wouldn’t die.”

A stubborn scowl overtakes her face. “Not sure that’s much better.”

Shoulders shrug. “Just letting you know. Hell’s really not all that bad when you’re on Lucifer’s good side, you know.”

“...I’ll bear that in mind,” is her dry reply.

“You really should make up your mind. Time is ticking. And I’ve got other things I could be -”

“Hey!”

The pair of them turn, seeing another figure making its way toward them. Silvery, messy locks fall over a fair face, the bottom half obscured by a mask. There’s really not much remarkable about him...except for a glint of silver that jostles around his neck as he runs.

A cross.

Behind Ryū, Obito’s eyes narrow.

Reaching them, the newcomer holds an arm out between them, barring Ryū back. “I’ve been waiting for you to show your face again. Let her go!”

“This is none of your business, Kakashi. She summoned me.”

“I told you, it wasn’t on purpose!” Ryū insists from behind Kakashi’s arm.

“It’s too late! Intentional or not, what’s done is done. She has to forfeit her soul one way or another. I’m just doing what I’m meant to do.”

“Don’t you remember what it’s like to be human?” Kakashi barks in protest. “Why hurt them when you used to be one, Obito?”

Ryū’s eyes widen. He was human…?

Obito’s lip lifts in a sneer. “I was human. And that life was nothing but suffering. Poverty, loneliness, despair...and then a violent, painful end before I was even a man. Can you really blame me for letting that bitterness overcome me? Life wasn’t, isn’t fair, Kakashi. Humans suffer, and they cause suffering. They must reap what they sow.”

“And what has she done wrong, beyond being at the wrong place at the wrong time? Do you really want to damn an innocent just because you suffered in life? That won’t reverse what you went through. It will just make someone else suffer, too. Let her go.”

All the while, Ryū watches them both. It’s clear they knew each other before Obito became a demon. And if Obito is telling the truth, then...it seems to her that he had every reason to be persuaded into a role like this, given what he went through.

Suffering begets suffering, after all.

...then maybe…

“You can’t break this contract, Kakashi. You’re hardly strong enough to have any influence here. It doesn’t matter if she’s willing or not. It was a done deal as soon as she spoke the incantation. One way or another, I’ll -!”

“I know what I want.”

Both men turn to her, expressions equally surprised.

“Miss, no - you can’t go through with this! If you do, your soul will -!”

“You heard the lady, Kakashi.” Behind them, Obito gives a bone-chilling smirk. “She’s made up her mind. And about time. What’ll it be, then?”

Gently urging Kakashi’s arm aside, Ryū steps forward, studying the demon. “...so, in order for the contract to be fulfilled...you have to complete whatever task I give you...right?”

“That’s right.”

“No matter how long it takes?”

“Yes. But we demons are very efficient.”

“...and the task can be anything?”

“Well...there are a few exceptions. I can’t raise the dead, for example. Can’t make you immortal. But most things are on the table. Tell me your wish, and I’ll let you know.”

She can’t help a dry snort at the word ‘wish’. As if she sought this out. “...all right, then. What I want from you is...to protect me from all possible harm, within your ability, until I die naturally. Only once I’ve lived whatever life you can allow me to live can you have my soul. If you purposefully allow me to be killed to try to complete the contract early, then you’ll have failed, and the contract is null and void.”

As she speaks, Obito’s grin slowly falls to a neutral, and then surprised expression.

Behind her, Kakashi gives a humorless laugh. “...so, rather than a guardian angel...you’ve snagged yourself a guardian demon. Well that’s a first.”

Ryū doesn’t reply, still looking at Obito. “...so? Is that on the table…?”

Sighing curtly, Obito looks aside as if trying to think of some kind of loophole. But after a minute of silence, it’s clear he can’t recall any. “...I suppose it is.”

“And because you’ll be performing your contract, there won’t be any of those consequences you talked about?”

“...in all honesty, I can’t be sure. I’ve never had a contract quite like that. The longest I’ve had to wait was a week.” He looks her over. “...you really want a demon to be hovering over your shoulder for the rest of your life?”

“I figure that’s the best outcome I could ask for, all things considered” is her quiet reply. “...besides, something you said struck me a bit funny.”

“...and what was that?”

“That you were lonely.”

His face goes slack. “...you...can’t be serious.”

Even Kakashi has no rebuke for that.

“You’re extending your contract to the fullest possible extent because a demon implied that they were lonely…? You must be a special kind of naive, lady.”

She gives a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “You’re the one who implied it, not me. Not everyone is a jerk, you know.”

He scowls, but doesn’t have a retort. “...all right, then. We shake on it...and your request will be set. No changing your mind. Got it?”

“Obito, I can’t let you do this!”

“There’s no can’t, Kakashi,” Obito retorts. “You couldn’t stop me if you tried. Buzz around her like an annoying little fly if you want. There’s no saving her.”

Turning to the other human, Ryū gives a somber smile. “I’ll be okay.”

“But -?”

Before he can try to argue, Ryū reaches out, and takes Obito’s hand.

The same rush of cold eddies around them, and Ryū can’t help but flinch as her hair whips around her face. Leaves kick up, the trees creaking as they get caught in the ethereal wind.

Hands still locked, Obito sneaks his other arm around her back, pulling them chest to chest with their hands pressed between them. A smirk curls his lips, hovering several inches over her own. “...it’s done.”

“This isn’t over, Obito!” Kakashi insists.

The demon turns to him, expression bored. “Well, I suppose you might have time to build up some power before she kicks the bucket. But I won’t be letting a soul go that easily, Kakashi.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” the demonologist replies lowly.

“Run along, then. Go bury your nose into your books and find some holy relics. You’ll be racing against the clock for this one.”

Glowering, Kakashi turns on a heel and leaves them.

“Finally, a little privacy,” Obito then sighs, giving a stretch. “You think he’d give that demonologist bit a rest…”

“So...you two know each other?”

“In a manner of speaking. But let’s not get into that, now. You’ve got a life to get to.”

It’s then that Ryū hesitates. “So...other people can see you…?”

“Only if I want them to. And even then a very small handful could otherwise. You’d be one of them, actually. If you had a bit more training, you might even be able to see what I really look like.”

“...you mean this is a ruse?”

He smirks. “...yes and no. This is my human appearance. I died at thirteen, but as a demon I’ve kept aging. This is how I’d look if I’d lived. But it’s not what I truly am, now. Not fully.”

“So I won’t have to explain why someone is constantly following me, then.”

“Not unless I decide to show myself. Which, for my own convenience, I doubt I’ll do often, if at all. I’d like this whole experience to be as painless as possible, since you seem to have it in your mind we’re going to be buddies in the meantime. Just think of me as a voice in your head that only you can see.”

...well, this is going to take some getting used to. But at least for now she has time. And it seems that this Kakashi guy wants to try and break this contract. Maybe he’ll succeed. For now, however...she’ll just have to adapt.

“...all right then. Come on. We’re leaving.”

“And going…?”

“Back to my dorm. I have homework.”

“You’re a student?”

“Studying to be a nurse.” She starts walking, and Obito follows.

“Riveting.”

“You’re the one who asked.”

Yes, this is going to take a lot of getting used to.

This is...super random but I guess it works for the prompt xD I dunno anything about demonology or whatever, so this is...purely me winging it. Also any religious mentions are just for the sake of context. That’s another subject I know little to nothing about lol A human (well, kinda) and a demon stuck in each other’s company. Surely nothing is going to wrong in this situation, right? Riiiight. I’d...say more but it’s late and this weekend is gonna suuuck so I’m gonna go sleep. Thanks for reading!

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #hatake kakashi #ghost among the ghosts [ au ]

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the-supporting-character · 6 years ago

Text

He’s Not Here (Davey x Jack)

Requested: What do you think? A/N: I don’t know why I wanted to write this, but I did and here it is. Warnings: Violence, one swear Length: 1970

The famous (and rather obnoxious) Jack Kelly lounged on a sofa in the middle of the Lodging House, looking at exactly nothing that was not inside his own head. His silence struck Davey, who sat in an opposing chair with a book hanging loosely from his hands. Usually, Kelly never shut up just when he was just getting to a good part, and yet in the past two hours that Davey had lost himself in a story, he spoke seldom. Instead of bouncing up and down or fidgeting relentlessly he slumped on the couch with little purpose.

“Hey…” At the sound of Davey’s voice, Jack bolted upright. Davey felt a bit ashamed, having left his boyfriend to slip into a daze while he was content to maintain his reading habits. All sense that Jack was staring off into space was gone as a mischievous glint returned to his eyes at the sound of Davey’s voice. Seeing him like that made a smile appear on Davey’s lips.

“We can, uh, do something?” He placed a bookmark in his book and set it aside. He sighed inwardly at his own awkwardness, sometimes he really had no idea what to say to such a cute boy. Just staring at him gave him butterflies, despite the fact that they had been dating for a couple of months now.

“Ya don’t sound sure about that.” Jack was staring at him now, a grin making its way across his face. He got up from the couch. and with a swagger only Jack Kelly could pull off, walked over to Davey and draped himself across his lap as if he wasn’t even there. He had sat down with a dramatic sigh, calling for Davey’s undivided attention.

“That’s not -huff- what I had in mind.” Davey groaned underneath the weight and yet was delighted to feel needed. With each breath Kelly took, the weight shifted slightly until they sat perfectly comfortable and tangled together. Kind of like a puzzle piece. Jack’s face was behind Davey’s out of sight to his view, but he felt the comforting breeze of each exhale on his ear.

“Too bad. S’what I wanted.” Davey felt a blush spread across his cheeks. Noticing, Jack let out a loud laugh and answered with a small peck on the cheek, turning Davey a darker shade red.

“Wes got all the time in the world.” It sure did feel like. For the next hour or so, Davey opened his book again and they sat in a comfortable silence. He checked his watch, aware that if he didn’t go home soon, his mother would start to worry (and one never wanted to upset Mrs. Jacobs).

“I wish I could stay but…” Jack was nearly asleep on his shoulder. His hair fell in his face as he lifted it, mumbling as Davey tried to slip away, his eyes opening out of his sleepy daze. Davey was nearly out of the chair when he felt a strong hand grip his wrist.

“I love you, Davey.” Davey wished he could stay and would give anything to hear those words a hundred time a day. Blood rushed to his ears.

“I love you too, Jackie. I’ll come back tomorrow, first thing.” Jack nodded and Davey picked up his book and left the Lodging House.

Not too far from the House, Davey hummed to himself smiling at the thought of Jack’s words. Just thinking about him made him want to skip all the way home, although he would never do that, less one of the other boys walked into him on the way home. That boy made him crazy, every action and every breath sent him deeper into a spiral and Davey never wanted to get out. He could only hope that Jack felt the same way.

Still walking with a spring in his step, he didn’t notice the gathering shadow behind him. A large hand grabbed his shoulder, forcing him backward near the alley. He let out a yelp in surprise as another hand grabbed his arm and pulled him farther in.

“Romeo? Race is that y- oof!” A hard yank pulled him backward, and the figure let go, letting his head smack the ground. His head spun, his vision dotting as he tried to look at the other person. He was hoping it was one of the guys just playing a prank (Race was always doing that, scaring him from dark alleyways), but this was not someone he knew.

It was a teenager for sure, larger and thicker than Davey and cruel smile set on his face. A scar ran down his cheek, bending to the corners of his lips. He shuddered to think where it came from, it didn’t seem like it was the result of some silly accident, like Jack’s scar from their first date. Jack. Davey called for him, until the boy reeled back his foot, sending it flying towards Davey. He rolled over, coughing as he felt pain begin to bloom in his chest. Panicking, he tried to scramble back to the entrance of the alley but it was no use. Another teen stood behind him, casting a long shadow down onto Davey. A bottle rolled from behind him, and Davey quickly turned his head to see another boy emerging from the shadows. The three stood tall around him, pillars as he laid against the dirt. One of them stepped forward.

“Yous did good this time, Beef. Get his coin.” Davey looked around glancing at the street for any passers-by. He didn’t like the way this kid talked or looked for that matter. He was smaller than the one called Beef, but had the same cruel features that indicated his intentions. The other boy stepped forward, holding something in his palm. With horror, Davey reeled backward as he noticed that object was a small silver knife, gleaming as bright as the boy's eyes.

“Haul him up.” The first teen pulled Davey to his feet, his ribs making a funny sound as he was held out in front of the kid with the knife. The leader, or at least who Davey assumed was the leader, nodded towards the knife-wielder and he took a dangerous step forward.

“ I don’t have anything, I’m just trying to get home.” He tried to put as much conviction in his voice as possible but regardless, his voice shook with unmistakable fear. Davey held his head high, making eye contact with the leader as the other one stepped closer.

“Seriously, I-” A fist flew at his face, making contact with his cheek and jerking his head to the side. A whimper bubbled up from his chest.

“One more word and my guy here will turn ya into swiss cheese.” He kept his eyes on Davey who kept peering down the alleyway, praying that one of the other newsies would walk by. The guy with the knife rummaged through his pockets as the leader watched on with a smile. He tried to pull himself away from the disgusting reach of the kid but the larger boy held fast onto his arms, holding them tightly behind his back. He tried to veer left of the hand trying to reach into his pocket, but the arms holding him tight just forced him back, hard. A soft sound came from his shoulder and Davey let out a scream, his whole side feeling as if it were covered in fire. The spots that were dancing in front of his eyes grew larger and moved with fury, completely blocking out the fist that slammed into his face once more. He was thrown off-balance, throwing his weight completely on the hurt shoulder. He didn’t scream this time, only gasped as his knees gave out.

He could hear the snickers of the boys as he panted in pain, sweat and blood pooling on his brow. His mind went to Jack, he would know what to do in this situation. Actually, he would never be in this situation, but if he did… But Davey wasn’t Jack. He didn’t have his swagger or charm, so instead, he pleaded pathetically with boys. He wanted to cry out for Jack, but he didn’t like the look that the eldest boy was giving him. Still being held back, the leader stepped forward, his eyes piercing into Davey’s.

“Where’s the rest of your coin?” His voice was calm, the question offered like it was no more than a simple ‘how ya doing?’. Davey shook his head, not willing to speak the words. In truth he had nothing else on him, being a newsie wasn’t exactly a well-paying career, and even if he did, that money was his. He had earned it, he needed it for his family, and he would not let some street rat take that away. Not exactly the time to be heroic, but he was only going to be pushed around so far.

The leader’s eyebrows raised in false surprise. He didn’t believe him and indicated to the other boy to stop searching for a moment.

“I don’t have time for lies, kid. Just say where it is and ya can home to yer mommy with all of yer fingers.” His mind was in a panic. He didn't have anything else, and in one last moment of desperation, he strained against the guy holding him and spoke with as much confidence as he could muster.

“Unless you want to get on the bad side of Jack Kelly, I would stop now and walk away while you can.” The guy behind him tensed, the knife-wielder stopped rummaging around his vest looking for hidden pockets, but the leader stood there with a wide smile. Any confidence that Davey had slipped away, and he struggled against his keeper, doing his best to ignore the pain in his shoulder. The leader cocked his head sideways, clearly amused.

“Nice try, but I think wes got it handled.” And then everything went to shit. Davey let out a pathetic sound as he pulled with all his might, kicking Beef to push away. Somehow landing a kick, his grip on Davey loosened and Davey slipped down, just as the kid with the knife was swinging his arm out wildly, catching Davey’s arm and chest. He could tell it was shallow, but the pain was almost overwhelming. Davey was crouched on the ground and fell forward, moving away from the two guys. The leader tsked and before Davey had a chance to move, swiftly kicked his jaw. He fell over into the dirt, groaning and trying to ignore the intense taste of copper in his mouth.

Davey moved to crawl away but was met again by a foot, this time to the ribs. He pushed his way to one of the walls of the alley as the leader stalked towards him, grimacing with every movement. His back to the wall, the older boy blocked him with his long limbs and started to repeatedly throw punches. Davey threw his hands up in defense, now screaming Jack’s name with each blow until he fell over, lying still against the cold ground. He wanted to cry, he wanted to give up, and he wanted so much for them to go away but they stayed.

The leader bent down, breathing in his ear, just as Jack had done not an hour earlier. Davey flinched and could barely make out his next words.

“You better hope I don’t run into you, or this Jack,” he mimicked the way that Davey cried out his name, “on these streets. Won’t be so gentle next time.” He whistled towards the other boys and they stalked out of the alley.

“Jack…” His voice croaked out, but no one could hear him. He slumped down, finally passing out in pain.

I have a part two planned out in my head if anyone is interested, just send me a message :)

#Jack Kelly #Davey Jacobs #newsies #javid #Racetrack #Also I'm going to reblog in the afternoon 'cause I realize now that not everyone is up at 1 am

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itshigh-boop · 6 years ago

Text

First Night

(( my over-due half of an art-trade with @spadesposts - I’m sorry it took so long - I hope you like it! ))

The reality of her situation didn’t truly hit her until she turned to look over her shoulder, noting her uncle’s estate was but a tiny dot in the distance. Turning back, thoughts run through her head about just how much had changed within the past few hours compared to the relative constantness of her life all thanks to a chance encounter with a certain bandit. She feels a subtle press of arms against her sides and hears McCree’s voice in her right ear. “Having second thoughts?” The question carries a hidden, second inquiry underneath its tone - does she want to stay with her uncle? Sombra wonders if McCree’s truly the menace that her uncle and other nobles paint him to be. Shaking her head, she looks ahead, certain of her decision. “It’s just different.” She’s never been anywhere beyond the convent she’s lived at for the past twelve years and her uncle’s manor. To think there was more than the road that led from each place. Her head swivels from side to side, enjoying the scenery of the countryside and the stretching acres of farmland. “Suppose this view’s a lot more to take in than the view from your chambers, eh?”

She says nothing in reply, merely continuing to take in the view of passing pastures, stretches of woods, and rolling hills. Eventually, the skies begin turning those telltale shades of orange and pink, the last remnants of sun peeking above the horizon. She hears McCree shout an order to swerve off the road and he leads them into the woodline straight across the field. When they enter, they continue riding, the thick foliage hiding the last bits of sunlight still left. Sombra wonders just how they plan to continue riding in the pitch dark of night. Suddenly, McCree halts his horse, the rest of his men coming to a stop behind him. With a quick hand, he helps her off, and gestures to the others. She watches as they spread out, a few tying the horses to branches nearby, and others collecting deadwood and leaves to seemingly build a fire. The first night out and away from the supervision of her uncle’s men or even the nuns she’s lived with...isn’t nearly as romantic a fantasy as she’s thought. It’s filled with few, hushed words and a bitter cold breeze. A few men keep guard as the rest attempt to rest. She wonders where on earth she conjured the image of men heartily laughing and exchanging stories around a large bonfire but she finds herself wishing it were the reality. Just as another wind picks up, she holds her arms, shivering until she feels something heavy wrap around her. “I forget the off-roads are no place for a lady,” McCree says, amusement in his voice. Sombra continues to shiver, clutching what she recognizes as his cloak around her frame even tighter. “Thank you.” She won’t reply to his comment; she knows there are women out there used to far worse than a bit of cold weather. She just needs time, that’s all. “But won’t you get cold?” “Cold? Perhaps. But it’d be worse if you fell ill.” She scoffs. “Your cloak is big enough for two - why not just share it?” The widening of his eyes causes her to realize the forwardness of her suggestion and she clears her throat. “That is to say...keep warm.” She looks over his other men who’d settled down to get some sleep, finding them paired off under a cloak or flimsy cover. “The others are doing it, in any case.” “Yes, but...they’re men. They’re used to it.” He says this as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Smiling, she knows very well the unspoken concern in his statement but even she can’t resist a bit of fun. “Do you give me reason to distrust you, Bandit King?” He must understand her tone as he grins in return and moves aside, gesturing to a tree positioned closer to the small fire at the center. “I thought you weren’t going to question my honor ever again?” She moves to the tree’s base, settling down and removing McCree’s cloak when he approaches as to cover them both. “Then don’t give me reason to doubt that claim, bandit.” McCree lies down, taking his half of the cloak but somehow, it still feels like she has more covering her body. Without truly meaning it, she moves closer, if only for the warmth his body provides. If he notices, he makes no comment, only tucking his head underneath a folded arm and grinning that same cocksure smile at her. Sombra knows that if he weren’t so visually pleasing to her eyes, she’d have grown sick of it by now. “Hmph. You’re not nearly as infuriating as other courtiers I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.” Sombra pauses in her response but manages to grin back. “Met with many noble ladies, have you?” There’s something in his comment that doesn’t sit right with her - surely it can’t be jealousy? She hardly knows this man. Fear? Fear that this isn’t the first time someone’s experienced this very journey? Fear that perhaps she may not be the last? The way he ducks his head and keeps his distance beyond her own movements closer to his warmth somewhat settles her rampant thoughts. He chuckles quietly. “Several. Though most wouldn’t believe that I wasn’t after anything but a few coins from their fathers’ accounts.” The unreasonable fears that had nibbled at her gut fade away and instead she finds herself trying to contain her laughter. “He steals not only coin but innocent hearts as well.” Sombra sighs mockingly. “How do you sleep at night, bandit?” “Innocent?” He scoffs, sounding almost offended at her choice of words. “You should see the way some of these women stare at me. Just what sort of fantasies about bandits do they plant in your heads?” “Well, I wouldn’t know...but matters of court and society are rather dull.” Sombra sighs, shivering even more. “One certainly cannot blame young ladies for being...imaginative. It helps to quell the boredom.” McCree snorts and Sombra can’t help but continue. “Do you mean to tell me that there isn’t some part of you that stirs knowing you’ve gained and held their attentions?” she teases. “I am quite handsome,” he finally speaks, though his eyes look elsewhere. “It’s not their fault no one else can compare.” The smugness in his voice finally causes her attempt to hold her mirth to fail. She feels terrible when she hears some of the other men shift in their sleep, knowing her giggling is more than likely keeping them from getting a proper rest. Whispering, Sombra moves closer, so that he may hear her. “Just imagine the looks on their fathers’ faces when they realize you’ve stolen both bits of their fortune and their admiration of their daughters.” If the thought amuses him, then he shows it with a small smirk. “But as it happens,” McCree begins. “I don’t just go after coin. I’m rather fond of treasure, as well.” It seems a stab at the obvious, she thinks. “Coin, treasure - are they not the same?” “Certainly not!” the bandit breathes, voice firm without rising in volume. He shifts onto his back, staring up at the star-littered skies above. Sombra lies on her side, staring at McCree and watching as the light of the fire illuminates his profile, flickering and casting shadows. “Then pray tell,” she starts, curiosity fueling her request. “What difference do they carry?” There is only the gentle crackle of the fire that fills the night air around them, save for snores from the other men. McCree finally speaks, eyes still focused on the night sky. “A coin is the same, whether to a peasant or a king - certainly, its value between the two will differ greatly but in the end, it will only make him wealthier than he was a moment ago.” She can’t argue with his words, for they are true. So she listens on, letting her silence be his invitation to continue. “But treasure is something whose value relies completely on the person laying their eyes upon it.” McCree stops, moving to dig his fingers into the leather vest he wears, pulling out what Sombra makes out to be a weathered compass. “Do you know what this is?” his voice breaks her thoughts and McCree is facing her again. Taking a moment to study the object he holds in his hand, Sombra can’t find anything out of the ordinary. “It...it looks like an old compass.” When he nods, she continues. “Does it still work?” At her words, he smiles, looking down at the item in his hands, turning it over before opening the case. “This old thing hasn’t worked in years.” Yet he holds it like it was made of the finest materials. “Do you think a sailor would find use in this?” “No?” she asks, not entirely sure what his point is. He nods, closing the case. “He would not. By appearances, it's rubbish.” He brings the compass up, holding it slightly over his face. And even with its lackluster appearance, she swears the unpolished wood of the case shines in the firelight. “But to me, it contains memories of my father. There is none other like it in the entire world.” Despite the difference in class and social rank, the obvious difference of their life experiences and even of their sex, Sombra finds it oddly humbling that like him, her own father was taken from her. She may not know the circumstances, but she can see the look of distance on McCree’s face as he stares at his compass that tells her all she needs to know at the moment. More silence passes over them until the breeze shakes the branches overhead. Sombra doesn’t want to speak so soon - not about this - not now. If he wants to continue, he will. Instead, she changes the subject. “Do you find treasure often?” He turns back to her with a smile, and tucks the compass away. “The beauty of treasure lies behind its rarity...though I’m pleased to say I found one today.” When he reaches a hand over to flick a lock of hair out of her face, she ducks her head further under the cloak, and the cold wind nips at her warming ears. “Who knew behind a veil of thievery hides the soul of a poet?” “Dear girl, I’ll have you know I have a way with words,” McCree huffs. Her shoulders shake in contained laughter. “Oh yes, the Queen herself would have you writing sonnets had she any knowledge of your God-given talents, good sir.” The outlaw moves closer, a mischievous grin on his lips as he leans in, only to laugh along with her when she can no longer keep a straight face. They settle down once more to finally sleep, but her own doubts surface. “Then why, bandit?” she asks, knowing how vague her question is yet somehow, McCree appears to understand. “How does one hold no value to their kin?” he asks in return. “The way you speak...leads me to wonder if there are things about yourself you still don’t understand.” Sombra shakes her head. “I understand plenty and it’s a lesson lifelong.” Years of her uncle’s words ring through her head as she stares at McCree, whose expression mirrors the sobriety behind her questions. “I could be a complete brat,” she speaks and he scoffs. “I could be the bane of my uncle’s existence and you would not know.” “I don’t believe it so.” He shakes his head. “I have a gift for spotting treasure and I’m confident in my abilities.” “You do not know me,” Sombra whispers, eyes searching his. The signs of exhaustion touch at his face, his smile sleepy and eyelids drooping. “And you, me. Not yet.” He shifts, eyes finally closing. “I think in time, you will find yourself wondering why you ever doubted me.” McCree drags his cloak closer to them both and exhales. “Get some rest, we’ll need to head out early.” Were she not so tired, Sombra would bring her open palm down upon his face in frustration. Why was he so infuriating? And why was she so flustered over such a harmless comment? A compliment, even? What was it that he could see that she could not? She watches him sleep, chest rising and falling with his steady breaths and envies his carefree attitude. But maybe, a tiny voice speaks at the back of her mind, he was right - maybe time is what she needs. Time away from her uncle - time away from the court - time away from the only life she knows. At the very least, she seems to be in the presence of a man who will allow her the freedom to have that time. The Bandit King...McCree. She wonders just what else she’ll discover about this man and his strange talks of ‘value’. The thought remains with her as she falls asleep. And the thought is at the front of her mind as she awakens, face pressed against a chest and an arm draped over her frame.

#My writing #My AU fic #art trade #bandit king au #so like...i really want to write more #i'll probably do a few more pieces

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totallysupernaturaloneshots · 7 years ago

Text

The Light in the Darkness

A/N: Requested by: @18crazybutcutealsopsycho

Author: Star ( @totallysupernaturaloneshots )

Word Count: 4691

Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel x Reader, Drew, Melissa (friends of reader)

Pairings: Castiel x Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, angst, fighting, swearing, fluff, smut

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; Summary: It’s the reader’s 18th birthday, but nothing goes as planned. She’s forced to go to school, her boyfriend is a jerk, and now her whole life is about to change.

You woke up feeling refreshed. You threw the blankets off you and sprang out of bed, humming as you walked over to your closet to get out the new outfit you bought for the day – a black top with a diamond cut out in the back and a plunging neck line. For school you would have to put something over it, but you thought of that too and wore a silver cardigan vest and your favorite pair of jeans. Once you got dressed you put on makeup and styled your hair, taking your time. You had woken up early so you could have a good start with plenty of time. When you were done you grabbed your bag and headed downstairs.

“Good morning, birthday girl!” your mom sang as you entered the kitchen. You beamed as she set down a plate of pancakes in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said and sat down at the table, grabbing the maple syrup and drowning the pancakes in it before taking a bite. It only took a few minutes to clean the entire plate. You jumped up, getting ready to head out the door and make your way to school, but your mom stopped you.

“What are you doing after school today?”

“I’m not sure yet. Why?”

“If you don’t have other plans I thought we could spend the day together. Watch some movies or something. Whatever you want.”

“We’ll see,” You said, shrugging and grabbing an apple on your way out. You wave at your mom and leave.

You had been walking to school pretty much your whole life, so you had perfected the route and were pretty spot-on with time. You reached Drew’s house right when you said you would – 7:35. That gave the two of you plenty of time before the first bell rang at 8:30. Drew was waiting in his car. You smirked and got into the passenger seat.

“Hey Babe” he said as you kissed his cheek.

“Hi,” you said back and then sighed, reclining the seat. Drew put his hand on your knee. You let it stay there, but looked at him. He flashed you a smile.

“I have something for you,” he said, and handed you a small box wrapped in a red bow. You untied it and opened the lid. Inside was a gorgeous heart-shaped ruby necklace. You ran your finger over it before squealing and handing it to him, turning so he could put it on you.

“I love it,” You told him once it was clasped and you could look down at it.

“I’m glad,” he said, smiling, “I saved up for it for a few weeks.”

“Thank you so much,” you leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“Anything for my girl,” he said back, cupping your cheek. You smiled and leaned into his touch. He tried to kiss you again, but you had other things on your mind so you pulled away.

“Come on,” he said, his hand moving higher up your leg to your thigh, “It's your birthday. 18. Let's celebrate.” You rolled your eyes. The two of you had the same conversation at least every two weeks. Drew wanted sex, but you wanted to wait. You had only been dating for three months and you still didn’t feel like you knew him well enough, or trusted him well enough, to give yourself totally to him like that. You shook your head.

“No, Drew, if that’s how I wanted to celebrate, you would know. Stop bringing it up. You’re only making me feel pressured, which won’t help your cause.”

Drew huffed and crossed his arms.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, and his voice started to sound angry. “It's not like you’re a virgin. I know you had sex with Brad Hunterly last year at a party. He told me.” Your eyes turned wide and you stared at Drew.

“What did you just say?”

Drew didn’t answer. He seemed shocked by your ferocity. You were pissed. Brad Hunterly had gotten you drunk and convinced you to “let loose” at a party the summer before your junior year. He had brought you into a random bedroom and it all happened so fast. It was sloppy and not romantic and it didn’t make you feel special or good in any way. You didn’t want to go through that again. You had thought Drew was different.

“Screw you,” you said, practically spitting, and opened the car door. Drew grabbed your arm but you spun around and glared at him and he let go. You got out of the car, took off the necklace and threw it at him.

“Don’t call me,” you said, and walked yourself to school. Drew sped off past you after a few minutes and flipped you off, but you were beyond caring at that moment. Why was it so hard to just have a good birthday? It was bad enough you had to go to school at all but to endure a breakup first thing…you sighed. You got to the school just as the first bell was ringing.

“You're late,” your algebra teacher stated as you walked in. You resisted the snarky remark and just handed her your late pass before sitting down at your assigned desk. There were some problems on the board that everyone else seemed to be working on. You took out your notebook and wrote them all down, but you had no ability to concentrate enough to try to solve them. Instead, you flipped the page and started writing.

It is not the day I thought it was going to be. I should have stayed home and let my mom plan something fun for the day but no, I had to come to school so I could see Drew. What a waste of time that turned out to be. He isn’t who I thought he was, not at all. I'll be okay, I'll handle it, but I hate being alone. When will I find someone who will treat me the way I deserve? I'm a good person. I'm not mean and I would give the shirt off my back for nearly anyone if they needed it. Why do guys all just want one thing? It's not even like I don’t want it too, but some effort for romance would be nice. Drew just wants to screw in the back of his car and be done with it. I still can’t believe what he said to me today. That's why we're so totally over. Please, let this day turn around.

The teacher started talking, so you went back to paying attention in class – or at least appearing to – and got through without further incidents. Your next class was a study hall. You always hung out with your friend Melissa instead of doing homework like you were supposed to. She was already sitting down when you got to the room. You sat down and opened your mouth to speak when she turned to you, her eyes wide as she shoved her phone in your face.

“Did you hear about the murder?” She asked.

“What murder?” You asked back, squinting your eyes at the phone screen that shows a news article.

“Some woman was killed this morning, around the time school started. Nobody knows what happened. The neighbors reported hearing screaming and the police went to check it out. They found a body and there was blood everywhere, one of them said. Do you wanna watch the video?”

“Um, no thanks.” You didn’t like hearing about murders and this one just left you with a strange feeling of dread. You felt like you were going to have a panic attack, so you looked around the room to try to calm down. Just as you were about to raise your hand, an announcement came over the intercom. You were being called to the office.

“What’d you do?” Melissa asked with a sly grin. You shrugged as you stood up, the feeling of dread becoming more defined.

“I don’t know,” you said.

“Well, fill me in later,” Melissa replied. You nodded and offered her a brief smile before heading to the office.

As soon as you walked in, the principal appeared and led you into his office. You paused in the doorway. A man you didn’t recognize sat in one of the seats in front of the desk. You looked at the principal but he just cleared his throat and asked you to please sit down. You walked over to the chair and sat, feeling somewhat dazed. The man in the chair beside you cleared his throat.”

“Y/N, hello, I’m Agent Hallagan. I’m sorry to come to you with this, but there was an incident at your home this morning.”

You heard the words, but you couldn’t believe them and you felt yourself detach. You could hear Agent Hallagan and the principal talking to you and you shook your head or nodded when you needed to, but the words were just noise as your mind tried to process them. Your mother, she was dead. They suspected foul play is how the agent put it, but you knew that meant she was murdered. You knew it, but you still couldn’t believe it. Who would want to kill your mother? Why? It made no sense.

“Excuse me,” You barely heard yourself speak. You stood up and walked out of the office, ignoring the men’s protests. You focused on the thud of your boots on the linoleum as you ran down the hall and out of the building. You had to get home, you had to find out for yourself what the hell was going on.

Your phone was ringing almost constantly as you ran the eight blocks to your house. You ignored it every time, but it was starting to grate on your nerves by the time you got to the end of your street. You took it out of your pocket and threw it in some bushes. You had more important things to think about right now. As you reached your house, you stopped dead. A choked cry crawled its way up your throat but all that came out was a dry heave. Your mother was dead. You didn’t need to get any closer to know that. The house was blocked off with yellow police tape. There were 3 cruisers parked out front, the blue and red lights flashing. There was blood splattered on the windows and pooled on the porch landing, oozing down the steps and running onto the lawn. Your blood went cold. Everything went black.

“Are you sure she’s going to wake up?”

“She’ll wake up…bitch.”

“Shut up, jerk!”

You hear someone snicker. You don’t recognize either of the voices, but you can tell they’re male. You can’t seem to open your eyes yet, but you try to make a noise. A croak fills your ears and you wonder if it came from you.

“Dean, she’s waking up.”

“See, I told you.”

“Hey, are you okay?”

You sense someone next to you, and slowly, you will your eyes to open.

“W-wha…”

You try to sit up, but you get dizzy.

“Woah there,” one of the men in the room puts his arm around you and helps you to sit up more slowly, “easy now.”

You give yourself a few minutes to adjust before looking around. Your eyes take a few more moments to adjust but when they do, you feel even more confused.

“Where the hell am I?” You blurt, then looking at the two men, “Who the hell are you?”

The men exchange a look and then the one sitting next to you speaks.

“I’m Sam, this is Dean.”

“Dean,” you repeat, remembering hearing the name being spoken before. You look up at him and he winks at you. You blush a little and look away again. “Why am I here?”

“We are protecting you,” a new voice answers from behind you. You turn around, and gasp. The man standing in the doorway is the most handsome man you have ever seen. His blue eyes pierce through your heart and soul and you have to wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering.

“F-from what?” You manage to ask after a few moments.

He is gazing at you with such intensity, it is hard to think. He comes closer and sits next to you.

“I’m afraid there is a lot you don’t know about yourself, Y/N.”

“Huh? Like what?”

“Have you ever heard voices in your mind?”

“Uh…no,” you say, shaking your head, confused. Did this man think you were crazy?

“What about in your sleep?”

“In my sleep? I-“ You are about to say no again, but then you realize it isn’t the right response. You have heard strange voices in your dreams before. It started when you were a child, so you never thought anything about it. There was a bright light, and people talking. You tried to go toward the light, but you could never reach it. Then a gorgeous woman would appear and tell you it wasn’t your time, and the dream would become something else. Usually you would be in a field of wild flowers, but once you ended up in Paris, somewhere you’ve always wanted to visit. In that one, there was a strange buzzing coming from the air. It took awhile for you to figure out the noise was thousands of voices speaking at once. You woke up after that and you never thought much of it, as it had never happened again. The men seem to read the answer on your face.

“That’s what I thought,” the new man said. “I can fill you in, but it’s going to sound crazy.”

“It already does,” You blurted, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Just wait til you hear this one,” Dean mumbles. The other man comes over and sits on the other side of you.

“My name is Castiel,” he says, “and I’m an angel.”

An Angel? You think. Yup, definitely sounds crazy! You start to shake your head, partially in confusion and partially in disbelief, but Castiel keeps speaking.

“Y/N, your mother was killed by a group of Archangels bent on taking over Heaven, since God is…well, not around right now.”

“What?” You ask, feeling completely incredulous now. “Where the hell did God go?”

“Oh, he’s certainly not in Hell,” Castiel answers.

“That wasn’t...Nevermind. Why would Archangels kill my mother?”

“They were looking for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

You wait for him to say more, but he just keeps looking at you. You sigh.

“What does this have to do with me? I don’t understand.”

“No, I figured you wouldn’t understand. How could you when you were unaware?”

“Unaware of what? Can someone just tell me what this is all about?”

Castiel opens his mouth to speak again, but Dean beats him to it.

“You’re a freakin angel.”

It took a lot of convincing for you to believe them, but after Castiel showed you his wings, there was no way to deny the truth. As for yourself, Cas said you wouldn’t be able to show your wings until you fully unleashed your Nephilim side. You were in complete disbelief on how you could be an angel, but Cas just said you were “Chosen” by God and he made you one, but let you live a human life until the time was right. Now your mother was murdered, and it was time to join the fight. You didn’t want to join the fight, but Sam, Dean and Cas were going to train you anyway because there was no choice. It was simply your destiny, and you had to accept whether you liked it or not.

“I’m never going to get this,” you sighed in frustration, pushing your hair out of your eyes, “it’s no use. I’m not cut out to be an angel warrior or whatever the hell you want from me.”

“You are making progress,” Castiel said in his always-calm voice. It irritated you. You huffed at him and kicked a wooden sword across the floor.

“It sure as hell doesn’t seem like it to me!” You yelled. Castiel just blinked and let you have your tantrum, which made you angrier. You growled, stepping closer to him, getting in his face.

“Do you ever react to anything?” You sneered at him, “I am swearing and yelling at you and you’re as cool as a fucking snow cone!”

“I don’t know what a snow cone is,” Cas retorted, that confused look on his face. You threw up your hands and let out a scream at the ceiling.

“It doesn’t matter what it is,” you say, looking back at Cas, “the point is that you annoy me! I’m over here getting angry and you have no reaction at all. If Dean were here, he would tell me to shut the hell up and suck it up, try again, because our asses are on the line.”

“I’m not Dean,” Cas replied simply, “Dean went out for cheeseburgers.”

“I’m aware,” You rolled your eyes and walked around in a circle, rolling your shoulders to try to get yourself to calm down. Castiel wasn’t very good as defusing your anger, unlike Dean. Even Sam managed to help in his “are you done now?” way. Cas, he just stood there and watched and had no reaction whatsoever until you brought yourself around. You didn’t want to bring yourself around this time. You were tired, hungry, and the training was not going your way. You turned around and nearly jumped half a mile into the air. Castiel was standing in front of you.

“Way to sneak up on someone,” you snapped, rubbing your arms and scowling at him.

“This is your destiny, Y/N. You will succeed, because you have to.” With that, he reached out and gripped your shoulders, hard.

“What are you doing?” You asked, struggling. He only gripped you harder.

“Ow, Castiel, you’re hurting me!”

“Yes,” he replied in that same calm manner.

“What the hell? Let me go!” You continued to struggle as his hands moved down to grip your forearms. His grip was like steel, and were you imagining that heat? Your eyebrows crossed and then your eyes went wide as you realized you were starting to feel heat coming from his hands. It was starting to burn.

“Ow! Stop it!” You said, but he did no such thing. He was staring at you with an intensity you had never noticed before, and it was hard to look away, but damn it, your arms felt like they were on fire. With a roar, you broke free of him, your hands coming down against his arms hard as you wheeled away from him.

“Why would you do that?” You screamed at him. There was a noise coming from somewhere, like a weird beating, and Castiel was smiling. You glared at him. “What is wrong with you?!” You screamed again, and reached out to slap him, but he stopped you by putting his hand up.

“Look,” he said, and you were so caught off guard by this that you stopped, turning your head. Your eyes grew wide. Massive white feathery wings jutted out behind you, and you realized they were the cause of the noise. You reached a hand back and felt where they came from, little nubs in your shoulder blades went from skin to feathers seamlessly.

“Holy shit,” you said in awe.

“There you go!” Sam smiled as you successfully blocked him and then counter-attacked, knocking him to the ground. You grinned back at him and gave him a high-five. Dean came in with a serious look on his face.

“Hey, Sam, can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure,” Sam responded, getting up and dusting himself off.

“I was actually thinking we could refuel… food run?” Dean said.

“Sure,” Sam nodded, and flashed you another smile on his way over to Dean. “Good job today, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you beamed and waved to Dean. He waved back and you called out, “bring back some pie!” with a laugh. Dean gave you a grin.

“You got it,” he said, and then he and Sam were gone. You wondered for a moment what Dean wanted to talk to Sam about, but figured it was probably some secret Winchester Brothers thing. You shrugged it off and turned to Castiel, who stood against the wall on the far side of the room.

“Are we gonna do some more training until they get back?”

Castiel didn’t answer you, he just stared at you. You started to grow self-conscious and was about to ask him again when he smiled at you.

“Y/N,” Castiel said, “you deserve a break from training.”

“I do?” You blinked at him. He never gave you a break before, not even when you sprained your ankle two weeks back. He made you work with it and then healed it when that day’s session was over. When you thought about it, Castiel was a bit of a hard ass when it came to training. A very handsome hard ass, but still.

“Yes,” Castiel said, and nodded. “In fact, I think you’re ready.”

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

You couldn’t help it. You squealed, ran forward, wrapped your arms around Castiel’s neck, and planted a kiss straight to his lips. They were a lot softer than you imagined. You felt him stiffen beneath you and you realized what you had done. With wide eyes, you pulled away, blushing.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said quickly, “I get a little carried away when I’m excited sometimes…”

Castiel didn’t respond. You sighed and shook your head.

“Right, I’ll just go read one of those research books Sam left out for me…”

You turned and started to leave when suddenly Castiel grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him.

“No,” he said his voice gruff.

“No?” you asked, confused, but before you had time to process anything else, his lips were back on yours, and his hands were on your hips, pulling you flush against his body. A shiver ran through you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip before slipping between them. A moan escaped you and his hands wandered up your back, to your shoulders. His hands felt hot against your bare skin. He pulled away, his hands moving up over your neck, and cupping your face. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking about that for a long time,” he said.

“You have?”

“Yes. But I didn’t think it would be, well, appropriate.”

A small smirk tugged at your lips.

“It isn’t appropriate,” you replied, “but I don’t mind. I like you, Castiel. More than like you. You’re the reason I was able to handle all of this. My mother was murdered, I found out I was an angel and that there were people out to kill me, too. All on my eighteenth birthday. Without you, I never would have gotten through it. You’ve been my light through all this darkness. You brought the light out of me, as well. You gave me my wings. Taught me how to be strong.”

“You had your wings, Y/N. I just taught you how to bring them out.”

“I owe my life to you, Cas,” you said, swallowing to hold back the tears that were threatening to surface, “you saved me.”

Castiel took your hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed your knuckles.

“I fell in love with you the moment I saw your wings,” he whispered, “they’re just as immaculate as you are.”

You blushed. Was this really happening? You knew you were attracted to the man – angel – who had been working with you, training you, taking care of you for the past few months, but you didn’t dare let yourself feel anything more, at least not fully. At night you would dream of him sometimes… you could feel yourself blushing deeper as a few intense dreams came back to you and you realized you had been hiding your feelings from everyone, including yourself, until this exact moment. It was time to stop hiding. You looked up at Castiel as you felt him cup your chin. He held your gaze for a moment, then, without a word, scooped you up into his arms and carried you to his bedroom.

It was the most amazing thing you had ever experienced. His hands, lips, and wings caressed every inch of your naked body. You moaned, whimpered, writhed, and screamed in desperation until the moment came when he finally parted your legs and pressed himself against your entrance. He kissed you deeply, your back rising from the bed to get closer to him as he thrust into you with a soft grunt. You gasped, a sudden, sharp pain soon giving way to pleasure as his movements became more steady and you got used to his thickness inside you. He sat up with you and let his wings wrap around you. You smiled and let your own wings wrap around him. You rocked your hips together, encased by feathers and bare skin, until you were both spent, then he brought you back down against the pillows on the bed. He brushed your hair aside and smiled, pressing one more tender kiss to your lips. His wings were still wrapped around you, blanketing you in downy softness. You snuggled into his side and sighed happily.

“That was incredible, Cas,” you murmured, looking up at him. He smiled and nodded, hugging you tightly with his wings as he reached a hand up to caress yours.

“Yes, it was.”

“You were my first,” you said with another blush.

“I would like to be your only,” he retorted, kissing you again, deeply.

You felt your heart clench with happiness. Despite all the bad things, you felt that everything would be alright as long as you had Castiel in your life. He was exactly what you had never realized was missing in your life before. You were about to suggest a second round, when Cas suddenly groaned and pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, frowning as his wings disappeared.

“Sam and Dean are back,” he answered, and you let out a sigh of relief, laughing to yourself.

“Oh,” you said, sitting up and looking around for your clothes. Castiel handed you your panties with a smirk.

“Looking for these?”

“Among other things,” you laughed again and pressed a kiss to his lips as you stood up. You both got dressed.

“Should I go down first?” You asked. Castiel looked at you in confusion.

“Why?” he asked.

“Well, I thought you wouldn’t want Sam and Dean to know,” you replied.

Before he could respond, Dean called up the stairs,

“Where you at? Come get your pie before I eat it all!”

You held back a snicker and looked up at Cas with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?”

Castiel just smiled and took your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“They’ll find out sooner or later. I’m choosing sooner.”

The two of you descended the stairs together, still holding hands. Sam and Dean looked over when you got to the landing. They exchanged a look. You held your breath, waiting for some sort of smartass remark, or worse, a lecture.

“I saved you a big slice,” Dean said, holding up a paper plate.

“And, we got burgers,” Sam said, gesturing to the table where they had put out places for everyone.

“Let’s eat,” Dean remarked.

Castiel and you joined the brothers at the table and waited for them to say something more. The conversation at dinner remained normal. After, Sam and Castiel went out to go over some new research Sam had uncovered. You stayed and cleaned up. As you were throwing out the last of the trash, Dean came over to you and nudged you with his elbow, a sly grin on his face. Here it comes you thought, groaning internally.

“That pie was worth it, huh?” he said.

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#cas x reader #castiel x reader #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #totallysupernaturaloneshots

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merakiclosed · 4 years ago

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Princess of the tower

》Pairing: Thief!Jungkook x Princess!reader 》Summary: The thief of the town who goes by the name of JK finds the lost princess but didn’t expect to fall in love with her along the way. 》Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst, Fantasy!au/Disney!au - Tangled!au, Strangers to lovers!au 》Word count: 7.1k 》Notes/Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and fighting, manipulation, long-haired Kook because that’s a danger in its self

Sighing, you move your gaze to watch the silhouette of birds fly past, wishing to be as free as them. Reaching out, you touch the plants that wind around the tower, almost crying out to be touched and held as you caress the soft ridges with your fingers.

Finally, you stand up straight and brush the imaginary dust off your purple dress, the silk smooth on your skin. You can remember vividly the day that you made this with your own hands, sewing and cutting material for hours because you grew out of your previous one. Unfortunately, this was the cheapest material your mother could get you, meaning that all of your dresses looked similar. You were dying to get out of the tower and get some more material, experimenting and trying on different styles and colours. But that would never happen. You weren't allowed out of the tower. It was mother's number one rule, not under any circumstances were you to step foot outside of this tower.

Your bare feet echo in the empty room as you descend to your bedroom. Along the staircase you run your hands along the carvings that were like a tale of a story that was long forgotten, remembering the day you spent on the hard work. Were you 15 at the time? Maybe, the days are all forged together. Gazing up at the roof, you find the multiple paintings you did, filled with flowers, birds and butterflies, thinking when your life will truly begin.

Faintly, you could hear the familiar echo of shoes on the stairwell causing you to shove the paint palette down and draw the curtains to hide the painting. Quickly, you get down from the fireplace, getting ready to greet her as the chain and lock sound heavy against the door. Pascal stays on your shoulder, tightly clinging on to the material as he blends in with the purple of your dress, hopefully to hide from the woman.

“My precious daughter.” she cooes, pinching your cheeks making you wince slightly.

“Mother -”

“Would you let your mother brush your hair whilst you sing dear?” she interrupts you. Instantly you're moving around, grabbing a chair and the brush, rushing to sit her down. Gently, you place Pascal on the windowsill.

“Y/N -” mother begins to scold, but you couldn't care less.

“You don't ever ask to go out of this tower ever again.” she finalises, pulling at your dress harshly, “do you understand?” Her gaze is firm and hard making you nod your head meekly. Though, she wanted more than that as she grabs your chin roughly, tilting your head to look her in the eye, “Yes mother I understand.” She beams at you and kisses your cheek. Grabbing the keys, she heads for the door and with another kiss to your head along with a quick I love you, she's gone again.

Not soon after you could hear laboured breathing coming from the door, the person bangs against the door, followed by a groan. Frantically, you look at Pascal who also has wide eyes, who then points to the frying pan, “Pascal you're a genius” you whisper. You run behind the door, continuously hearing the stranger try and break the door, making it rattle and echo throughout the room. Any moment now and he’ll end up-

The door breaks off its hinges, the chain now scraping across the ground. It’s silent for a moment as you watch the man look around, failing to look behind him. “OW.SHIT” He shouts when you hit him in the leg with the frying pan, he whips around to look at you. Your mother's voice sounds in your head of the hideous men with sharp teeth and ill intentions. But this man in front of you was nothing like that. His white shirt was dirty and rolled up to his elbows as underneath was a blue vest, wheat-like string buttoning it together. Brown pants are tucked into brown, leather boots that have clearly been worn for a long time as they are scuffed with mud splattered on them. When your eyes finally land on the satchel in his hand, he moves it closer to himself protectively, interesting.

Like deja vu, you hear another step of footsteps and instantly you know who it is. You and the strange man look at each other wide-eyed and shove him under the stairs, where the kitchen is and hide him behind the curtain. The man stumbles from your push as you take the opportunity to take the satchel out of his hands. Luckily, your mother only gets halfway before she decides to shout, “Y/n, did you want me to get the paint from the beach?” you know that she is doing this so that you don't talk about going out of the tower, “Yes, mother.” And she's gone, once again, thankful that you didn’t have to explain why the door was broken.

Cautiously, you creep towards the kitchen, coming face to face with the man, frying pan at the ready in one hand, the satchel in the other. You both looked at each other, he was young, possibly around your age judging by his face. His eyes were deer-like, sparkling with a hint of mischievousness in them, slightly round cheeks but sharp jaw and eyebrows as his black hair slightly hung in front of his eyes, obvious that he hasn't had it cut in a while. His eyes scan your figure, wanting to roll his eyes, you look innocent and scared. It was obvious that if he shouted at you right now, you would cower. However, he notices the satchel in your hand, “that's mine, give it back.”

Shaking your head, you hold it closer to you, “No. why are you here?” you foreign confidence when in reality you could feel your erratic heartbeat in your chest. He wasn't threatened as his face showed confusion, making his nose scrunch up, “Is that all of your hair?”

Your mind starts to connect the dots, “Do you want my hair, is that why you are here? How did you find me?” you accuse, trying to sound threatening.

“No. I won’t give you the satchel until you take me to see the floating lights tomorrow night. You will take me there and in return, you'll get your satchel.”

“That's it? You want to see the lanterns?” he sounds bored. Well, he shouldn't have broken your door! You unconsciously pout and nod, “Yes.”

“So, is this a deal then?” he says, cocking his eyebrow. This will be easy.

“Yes.” Out the corner of your eye, you see Pascal shaking his head, knowing that this was a bad idea.

“Well let's get going then”

The words make you pause, you’ll be leaving the tower. Without your mother's permission. It was against the rules. What if she comes back early. No, you can’t think of that. You either leave the tower now or stay and never be able to see the outside world, “well what are you doing just standing there princess, let’s get moving.”

The man looks at you unimpressed, but in reality, he finds it quite endearing as you look around. The scenery was normal to him, but watching you appreciate all of the little details makes him think more about taking things for granted. But he can't think like that. He needs to leave you - somewhere safe of course- and run. All he has to do is steal the satchel from you when you sleep and then he will be on his way. He strolls up to you and plucks the flower out of your hand, causing you to pout, but soon turns into a shy smile once he places it in your hair, next to your ear. Firstly, he has to gain your trust.

Walking away, he hears your feet pad on the ground before you walk next to him, “So, princess what’s your name?”

“Y/n.” You say softly, looking up at him, he mulls over what to say before talking, “Mine’s Jk.”

“Hey - wait up.”

The woman trudges up the stairs, huffing with every step, her shoes clacking against the stone. She can sense that something is wrong, the echoing doesn't sound as harsh to her eardrums as before. Thoughts of something getting to her precious prize, causing her to fasten her steps before she abruptly stops, two steps before the top. The wooden door lays on the floor, pieces of wood aloof. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears, adrenaline rushing through her as she shouts out, trying to find her. Pots and pans on the floor, material is thrown all over. Nothing.

“I’ll get some firewood, stay here.” He commands, not waiting for an answer as he walks off into the woods. The green canopy almost looks black, drained of colour almost like it was muted under the artist's hand. Every noise and russell from the bushes makes you jump, you've practically been alone for most of your life, but you were surrounded by the tower walls. You’re vulnerable under the moon that shines in the night. It was a weird experience, you've seen the nightfall and the sunrise, yet witnessing it outside was so much more magical. You only wish that your companion would be better, but at least Pascal is with you, though he isn't much help as you look over to find him knocked out on the edge of the branch that you're sat on. The familiar crunch of boots makes you gaze up at the man, his biceps bulging in the shirt that he wears.

“Flower gleam and glow” Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine”

“Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was mine.”

What and why were you in that tower?

“H-how long has your -uh. Magical Uhm. Hair been doing that?” He coughs when his voice cracks, not wanting to show how scared he actually feels.

“Forever. Something like this” You gesture to your hair, “has to be protected, that's why my mother - why I never left the tower.” Your voice trails off at the end, still uncertain about what he is thinking.

His thoughts are running wild. He’s sitting there, in the middle of the night, with a girl who has magical hair. Is this a dream? Something like this doesn't happen, maybe he’s going crazy. Maybe the guards have already taken him and this is all some sort of hallucination. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you twiddle your thumbs, waiting anxiously. He had a perfect plan for tonight, wait until you fall asleep, take the satchel and run. He knew you wouldn’t be able to stay awake for long, yet he doesn’t think he can do it. If someone gets to you, you're a goner. And for some reason, it makes his gut twist at the thought of you in danger, especially after you showed him your little trick. People like him, eat people like you for dinner. He yearns to know everything about you already, but he doesn't think he can bring himself to do it. He's not a good person and you don't deserve that.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh?” You look up at him quizzically.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook.”

“How did you find the tower?” You questioned, averting your eyes to pascal as he sleeps peacefully.

You nod at him, not knowing what to say, you want to know what he was running from, why he never gave you his real name from the start, why he was so desperate to get the satchel. You had so many questions for people outside of the tower, but now sitting in front of him, Jungkook, your mind runs blank. Yawning, you rub your eyes, but you're fearful of sleeping outside. Will someone attack you? Will it rain? What if a giant creature comes and gets you?

“Easy there, princess. I can see your head about to blow smoke from how hard you're thinking.” Jungkook said in a small voice, presumably not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night. Laying down, pieces of wood stabbed your side, but it would have to do if you want to get to the lanterns tomorrow. Your head lays gently on the bark, the constellations that have witnessed centuries watch over you both in this small moment before you finally close your eyes drifting off to sleep.

Jungkook looks over when he hears your breathing slowing down, to see you knocked out like a light. Chuckling to himself, he can imagine how hard today was compared to being in that tiny room in the tower. He sits on the grass, leaning against the log you're asleep on, looking at your figure. He was so curious to know you, he never heard anything about a girl being locked up in a tower, and surprisingly, he felt bad for you. So youthful and full of wonder, and he was youthful but full of danger.

Luckily, the town wasn't far from where you slept, only a couple of hours in the morning and you finally saw the opening to the village. Even from afar, you could feel the energy that the people emit, vibrant clothing shining in the sunlight as people dance to the music. They move around each other like pebbles in the water, flowing around one another, as they fill each other with adrenaline-pumping happiness. You only see joyful faces as they bring the village to life. Chatter between sellers and buyers as if they were old friends. It's like nothing you've ever seen before. Mother was wrong, there are good people in the world.

Jungkook watches you silently as you smile widely, your eyes darting in every which way to take everything in. He gently grabs at your sleeve and tugs you towards one of the stands who does hair, sitting you in the chair. You look up at him questioningly, as the woman starts to braid your hair, making sure not to hurt you. She doesn't question the twigs and leaves she finds, simply plucking them out. You sit in wonder, trying not to dart your head around to see more.

Jungkook turns around to find that you're not following him anymore, sending him into a panic as all he can see is a crowd of people. He’s familiar with his heart racing, normally from running away, but as he looks around he feels a different type of adrenaline, but all he has to do is breathe before calming down. His eyes are quick to find you, your purple dress matching perfectly with the theme as your hair flows down your back, flowers intertwined in certain strands. Walking towards you, he laughs when he sees your nose practically smudged against the glass that holds the doughnuts. You stare at him in shock, forgetting that you were supposed to follow him, causing heat to rise in your body.

“It’s a doughnut.” He’s careful in calling you princess in the village, knowing it’s a sensitive topic and he doesn’t need to be at the centre of attention right now, especially with all of the guards that he has seen. Tentatively, he watches you take your first bite, a giggle passes your lips once you’ve eaten it, taking another bite, clearly enjoying it as your cheeks fill like chipmunks. He watched fondly, before catching himself. No, he can’t fall for you. In a flash, he turns serious, cocking an eyebrow at you. Humiliation falls over you, at your obvious display of enjoyment. You're not sure what you’ve done, but you still feel it as he looks at you with his sharp gaze. Lowering the doughnut, you avoid eye contact before nodding at him to continue with where you were walking to and give Pascal the rest of it, as he hangs in your pocket.

However, you get distracted once again at a group of people dancing, their bodies speaking for how they feel. You have danced before, in the comfort of the walls you call home, but here where you see young girls skipping and weaving past the seas of people, smiling as if nothing bad ever happened, you realise that you’ve never truly danced. Forgetting about the moment earlier, you grab Jungkook's hand and dance with him. His larger hands encased in yours as you follow the rhythm, being carefree of everything, feeling freedom run in your bones. You know that after tonight, life goes on as normal, so today you will be free of all of your worries.

But you're soon thrown out of this dream when his eyes widen, looking at something behind you. You go to look back when he softly puts your head in his chest, holding you close, your breath hitches at the contact of your bodies pressed together. The feeling of having someone so close was bizarre, even your mother didn’t hold you like this especially as long as this. Suddenly, he pulls away, holding your hand in his as he runs, shouting of guards impales your ears, clattering of boots and metal follow behind you as each step is calculated. Not used to the exertion of energy your breathing starts to get laboured as you both rush past people, it's all a blur as your steps start to falter, Jungkook's grip on your hand getting tighter. Your bare feet sting as they slap against the moss-laden rock, each stride of his were worth at least two of yours, his long legs and previous endeavours made this easy, barely breaking a sweat. With a good distance between you and the guards, Jungkook drags you around another corner and into a darker and smaller passageway. Abruptly he shoves you against the wall, causing you to wince, his body once again up against yours. Briefly, you can feel how rigid Pascal has gone as he looks at the both of you with wide eyes. But all you can do is look at his face, tight-lipped and his gaze is sharp as he listens for the guards, your breath hot against his hand that is against your lips, keeping you quiet. His own breathing is steady but slightly offbeat as for the first in a while, he is scared of being caught. He’s been running away from guards the whole of his life, but he couldn't get you in trouble because of his actions. You can hear the guards getting closer, footsteps matching in beat with each other, trained to perfection as they rush past you both.

Looking around you don’t see any of the guards and nod at him, slightly uncertain. You've only socialised with two people, but you can do this! You can totally do this! Hesitantly, you walk up to the stall before looking back to Jungkook to find him standing with a smile and two thumbs up. Looking down, you see Pascal smiling at you with a nod, encouraging you. You nod your head again and continue forward, with timid steps before looking around at the shoes on show before finding a pair of loafers, white with a golden pattern on the front, matching perfectly with your dress. The woman that owns the stall laughs at you before guiding you to try them on. You smile widely at her before giving her the coins, to which she accepts with a small smile, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons. Putting them on your feet, you wiggle your toes before skipping back to Jungkook. He smiles at you watching your eyes brighten up, talking animatedly about how you think they're pretty and soft. Again, he can feel his heart skip a beat. But once more he ignores it. He’s not meant for you. Unknown to you both, Pascal watches the interaction and knows what is going through the young man’s head as he looks at you like you hold the universe. Maybe he isn’t as bad as he thought.

Soon enough you're in the middle of the river, as he stops rowing, wiping off the sweat that formulated on his forehead with the back of his hand. One particular question has been nagging in the back of your head ever since you saw the lanterns, “why do they send them off every year on my birthday?” Softly, you brush Pascals back as he sits on the edge of the boat, slowly falling asleep from the gentle caress of your hand.

“The lanterns?” You nod.

A cough from behind you causes you to look back, to find Jungkook sat with two lanterns in his hand and a sheepish smile on his face. Gasping, you reach forward to grasp one, and softly it floats between your fingers and into the sky, circling around Jungkooks. The world feels like it's shifted, warm and bright even in the crisp night. Turning around, you thrust the satchel in his hands, “You took me to the lanterns. This is my end of the deal.”

Shaking his head, he pushes it away, “I don’t want it.”

Tilting your head in confusion, he continues to look in your eyes, his eyes uncharacteristically soft, leaning closer to you, “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve changed me. You made me question everything that I’ve done if only I had met you sooner.” you can feel his breath on your face, his gaze wavering to look down at your lips as you unconsciously lick your lips. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you scoot closer to him, resting your hands on his knees. Your lips centimetres apart before the boat rocked, but it wasn't due to the waves. A dark shadow cast over the both of you, laughter of three people getting closer to the boat, “well, look what we have here.” A rough voice calls out.

Looking up, you find your mother standing next to two men who are easily 6 foot in height, scars all over their bodies. Slamming their boat into yours, you go to topple over the edge before a hand reaches out and pulls you into them, “My sweet, precious daughter.” Her familiar scent engulfs your senses, her bony frame hugging you in a death grip. Jungkook heaves in a breath as his wet form is slung into the boat, coughing up water. The two men hold him in a vice grip, hauling him up by his arms as his body shivers from the cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Pascal jumping onto the boat, subtly shifting towards you, but hides behind one of the paddles, his scales turning a murky brown.

Struggling to get out of your mother's grip, Jungkook looks up at you and shakes his head, telling you to stop. Ignoring him, you continue, “Let him go.”

The pain that he feels is excruciating but he doesn’t do anything other than let it happen. He hears your blood-curdling screams but it comes in and out like waves, his sight becoming blurry as they continue. He deserves this. The stealing, the robbing, the slowly falling in love with you. He doesn't deserve to be in your life. He screams as he’s cut in the shoulder, the knife shortly ripped out of him to be plunged into his left side. His blood is hot as it pours out, burning his cold figure. Looking up, he finds your face covered in tears, eyes bloodshot as you kick and scream for your mother to stop. You were one of a kind. He didn't know how you did it, but you made him want to change for the better. He didn't want the crown. He didn't want wealth. He wanted you. But fate had a cruel way of showing him that he couldn't have you. Another stab, another scream. Not from him, but you. He smiles weakly at you as he can feel himself about to pass out, his skin turning paler by the second.

“Mother, please,” you beg, tears cascading down your face like lava.

“Boys.” She says simply, both of them stopping and holding a bruising grip on his arms. His head sags, not having the energy to look up at you anymore.

“P-please. Please… Let me heal him and then you can take me. I’ll l-live with you forever. You and me. I’ll never go outside, I’ll do everything you ask of me. Just let me heal him and let him go.” You sniffle and choke on your words, breathless from screaming. Your mother cocks her head to the side before looking back to the two men, “Shoo. Take the crown and go.” A sick, twisted smile coats their face as they both look at each other before jumping into the boat you came on, picking up the satchel and rowing away. Jungkook slumps to the floor, weakly holding onto his side.

A piercing scream comes from your mother, “what have you done?” she shouts, pulling her cloak over her, as she stammers around the boat before reaching the edge. It was like it was in slow motion as she topples over the edge and into the water, her arms flaring, struggling to keep afloat before her body slowly sank, as her body ages before you. Pascal scuttles over, crawling on top of Jungkook’s chest, feeling the way his heart beat is slowing down.

Jungkooks grip around you becomes weaker, his breathing getting slower. Your heart sinks to your stomach, as you watch him take his last breath. “No, no, no, no, no” you whisper, choking as a sob threatens to tear at your throat. Your hands shake as you watch blood ooze from his wounds, and you burst like a dam. Salty tears run down your face, racking with sobs. This was your fault, he didn’t deserve this. If only you would have stayed in the tower. If only you didn’t fall in love with him.

“Flower gleam and glow” Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine.

Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was m-mine.”

Your voice cracking continuously as you breathed the song. It was a bittersweet moment as the lanterns around you continued to float around you, full of life, burning into the ever glowing night sky, almost like they were mocking you. Light beamed around you, a golden hue spiralled around the both of you like it was dancing to a song before bursting into the star that has been engraved into your memory since this morning.

A wave of dizziness crashes over you, making you lose balance, your hands scraping against the wood. Flashes of memories burst through your mind. A small hand touching bigger ones. Chubby legs that look like they're learning to walk for the first time. A mobile hanging from above the crib. And a star. The same star that you painted on your ceiling. The same star that's been in front of your very eyes this entire day. Another flash and you see a man and a woman. The parents of the lost daughter.

“J-Jungkook. I-”

Leaning up, you kiss him softly on the lips but soon gets broken as you both start smiling uncontrollably, “Let’s get you home, princess.”

Heels clack on the polished floor, steps full of purpose as you clutch Jungkook's hand tighter. Two people; a man and woman step out. A gasp escapes them both as your eyesight gets blurry. Your parents. Your mother runs towards you and embraces you, knocking the wind out of you as she strokes your cheek as if you were made of glass, her bloodshot eyes smiling at you with love, “y/n.”

“Mother, father.” you smile at them taking a hand each in your own.

Smiling at the sight, you pull Jungkook towards you and squeeze him tight, “thank you.” you whisper into his chest, feeling the rumble of his chest as he laughs, “anything for you princess.”

Pascal squeaks, causing him to turn blue from having the attention on him from his little celebration of joy, causing you all to coo and laugh at him. Finally, the princess of the tower was home.

I hope you enjoyed this and I’m sorry for the ending not being very good! I tried to post this 3 times and every time something went wrong so I hope this time it works. :(( Please comment, like and reblog! Feedback is always appreciated, it gives me motivation! This is NOT edited. Sorry for any mistakes

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