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softlyjiminie · 5 years ago

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to hold a dragon’s heart | k.t.h

⇢ pairing(s): dragon prince!kim taehyung x warrior princess!reader,

⇢ word count: 19.1K.

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: smut, angst, fluff, forbidden romance, dragon shifter!au, royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au.

⇢ summary: two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge, never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?

⇢ warning(s): please read! major character death, violence ( torture scenes + fight scenes ), war, cursing, alocholism, unrequited love, arranged marriages, failing marriages, imprinting, painful sickness, unexpected pregnancies, slight prejudice against mythical creatures and women, heavy smut, unprotected sex ( please wear protection ) , virgin + dom!taehyung, virgin + sub!reader, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex ( male + female recieving ), nipple play, light degredation + dirty talk, breeding kink, cumplay, creaming, cunnilingus, slight exhibitionism, male masturbation, taehyung has a two-headed penis (with spines), teaehyung has charcoal flavoured cum— i may have gotton carried away…

⇢ author’s note(s): hello everyone! this is my contribution to the @ficswithluv Love Library project! i was a part of the fantasy category with @jamaisjoons !! i worked really hard on this fic, and it’s probably my biggest work, i’m so proud of it so i really really hope you guys enjoy and leave some feedback <3

⇢special mention(s): i would like to thank my baby, miss gia of @fantasybangtan for helping me muse and giving me inspiration to complete this fic, as well as giving me feedback on this hefty boy n making it’s beautiful banner !! ( also i named the sea after you ) anddd my little babie @fantasyjoon for letting me name a kingdom after her teehee. I wuv u guys <3

two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge, never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?

on opposing sides of the enchanted forest, lay two kingdoms. one, painted with magic and mystery, from the soils to the creatures that rules the skies. the other, a land blessed with human life, cultivation and opportunity.

the Avalerian dynasty, land of the mystical and the Phantis empire, land of the man. both peaceful kingdoms, until war struck.

when you were young and with a curious mind, when tales of battle between warrior and warlock were used to put your infant heart to rest, you would ask questions. many of them, but one always seemed to snub the minds of your elders.

“why do we fight the war? why did it start?” you would beam curiously up at your mother, Queen aadaya. she was a beauty, hair dipped in the white snows of the Huntcan tip mountains, laced with the silver moon at its highest. her skin was smooth, illuminated by starlight and her heart, as pure as any gold. but queen aadaya was a warrior, trained in the arts of her people, like her mother and her grandmother before that. she had hoped to one day, train yourself and your siblings as well.

your mother shuffled over on the bed, squishing your eldest brother, hoseok and yourself, while pulling your younger sister—tamarae, into your lap.

you remember so clearly, your mother tilting her moon crescent eyes and brushing back the hair on your face. “we fight for safety, of you and all children.”

lies.

you had yet to learn, as a naive little five year old, what war could do to innocents such as your mother. such as your people. war was not kind to anyone it met, it’s raging scent of death and decay and blood reaching every corner of your once ethereal home until nothing was left. nothing but sadness, loss and a hole in your heart.

you lost your mother by order of assassination on the night of your eighteenth birthday. they say, as a revenge attack, for the death of the dragon king but it was then that you learned that war took no prisoners, it had no mercy. war was not like the lullabies and stories your mother told. that day, the kingdom mourned the loss of their queen, and you mourned the loss of your mother, the safety she promised, a lie on the ghost of her lips.

hoseok was drafted into the war not a year later, his own doing. he trained hard but not as good as yourself, you would joke. he was to keep hold on some land by elvin territory and whilst it wasn’t much, it was everything to your brother. hoseok could do something to avenge his mother. the day before his deployment, you sat with your siblings on your bed like you would as children, sneaking snacks from the chef’s daughter that hoseok promised to wed on his return. the three of you giggled and smiled and reminisced, ending the night with tears and tight grips on each other, praying that your family would be together again.

years later, you sit aged twenty one in front of the royal court. with hoseok gone and your father unfit to rule, you were next in line to inherit your mother’s throne. the chair itself, towering with a twisted golden design, was forged from the molten treasures of the dragons themselves. tamarae sits to your left, poised in a lesser dramatic chair and gown and to the right of you, your advisor, jungkook.

“why have you come?” your voice drifts through the throne room, eyes narrow on the pathetic excuse for a man before you. your father rises from his kneel, watching you with pleading eyes. in the years between now and your mother’s death, any relationship with your father had dwindled. he grew power hungry, gambling away any riches in hoping what he earned would replace the loss in his heart. he drunk whatever he could find, rendering himself ill. you often wondered why your mother ever allowed such a man to father her children.

“i come, with but a suggestion, daughter.”

tamarae looks to you, worry struck on her young, delicate features. yet, your steely gaze remains in line with your father’s, an anger brewing in your stomach. it was not uncommon for your father to want to challenge you in front of the court, undermine your power as you made your road to queen. you had yet to prove yourself, according to the court but you hand an inkling feeling that was your father’s doing.

“a suggestion, pray tell?” you jest, replacing your glare for a delicate smile. a giggle bubbles from your lips, making the lords and ladies flinch. “my people and armies are fed, the livestock and farms are thriving, we have hold on all land claimed by men and yet, dearest father, you continue to doubt me.” like your mother, you had many who doubted your role as a women in power, you learned to be kind but ruthless, in order to survive.

the man himself, withered to the bone with sagging old eyes and a wheeze in his chest, rises from his knees with a dark glint in his eye. “my grace, whilst i mean you no disrespect, but by royal decree you are still unfit to rule,” he explains, gesturing to the court with wide arms. “you lack one thing.”

narrowing your eyes, you lean forward in your throne as your jewellery glitters and rustles around your neck. the tension in the room is thick, a knife would barely be able to cut it, “like, what?”

“a king.”

you rip your body from your seat, sister following suit along with your royal guard. how dare he? the sick man, run along and say you needed a king to help guide you as queen. your mother had managed just fine on her own, taking the throne from a young age and resisting the temptation of men. until she met your father, a lowly bread maker and made him the man he is today.

he had always envied her power, much as he did with yours.

“a king? a king like you? pathetic and on his knees like the drunk bastard he is. i digress,” you seethe, much to the amusement of your court. but your father knows your wit, knows your weakness, after all he is the man who raised you.

“it is by royal law, for a young queen to marry, my dearest YN...” the man begins, tilting his head up at you as he basks in the support of the lords and ladies around him. “and if you want to prove yourself worthy to the court, i suggest you start, with accepting a suitor.”

“ridiculous!”

an advisor from beside you, the predecessor to jungkook, steps forward wordlessly and blinks to you as if he’s asking permission to speak. “with all do respect, your highness, your father does have a point...it is required of you by law to...”

their words are silenced with a quick glare, your nostrils are flaring from how angry you are and suddenly the blue silk gown that you wear is too tight and too fitting. tamarae places a hand on your shoulder to help calm your nerves, your little sister had always been in tune with your emotions, much like your mother had. the young princess even resembled the queen, with tumbling wisps of snow white hair and kind eyes.

“breathe,” she whispers to you, helping you fix your poise. “you’re doing just fine.”

standing up talk, you ease your shoulders and smile smugly at your father. “since the men of this room, seem to doubt my ability to lead... i will prove the council before me, wrong,” your grin only widens when they ask you how, and you feel your sister’s worrisome stare burning into your cheeks. “by bringing you the heart of a dragon.”

“don’t be ridiculous, your highness!”

a lord from goodness knows what county calls, you only roll your eyes, making your way down the steps to pass your father smugly. the court has broken into a series of whispers, anxious, excited and concerned. the men around you have grown complacent, too comfortable with the idea of overthrowing you and making you weak.

“silence!” you bellow, turning to address every being in the room. you hum in satisfaction as the quieten down, letting your mantle made of the finest cotton, trail behind you. “no man, no king has ever brought the heart of the dragon to this kingdom. if i am to prove myself worthy to you, then this is how it shall be. laugh if you must, doubt me if you will. but i was born and raised a warrior and in my mother’s footsteps, i shall follow.”

with that, the meeting is concluded and your father is left gobsmacked, once again.

“don’t do anything stupid, YN,” tamarae mumbles to you that evening. you stand in her quarters, dressed in traditional fighting gear. the pants are a dark grey, patterned with swirls of a lily flower and embroider with your kingdom’s emblem of a crystal lily. the top matches, only this time you wear padding to ensure your protection. “and make sure you don’t get hurt.”

you scoff, shuffling on a cloak and pulling the hood over your head to disguise your face. royalty wasn’t allowed out of the palace after dark, due to the risk of unexpected assassination. the council put the law into place after the tragic loss of their beloved queen. “as if I’d ever allow myself to experience any form of pain.” you tut, twirling around to locate your sword.

the weapon had been a gift from your mother, on the day of your eighteenth. she had deemed you a worthy warrior, fit for battle after many years of training. it was a shame that she would not be able to see you use it now.

“you know what i mean, YN,” your younger sister sighs, pushing herself to stand and handing you the sheathed sword. a bright smile pulls at your lips and you lean down to press a kiss into her moonlit hair. “what if you don’t bring back the dragon heart? you’ll call yourself a fool and beat yourself up about it.”

“i won’t, i promise,” you hum, shaking your head down at tamarae. she was young and she worried for your recklessness, much like a mother would for her child. guilt was deepset within you, despising how your sister grew up barely remembering the woman who gave her life. “now if anyone asks...”

“you wish not to be disturbed.” tamarae gives you a soft smile, manoeuvring her hands to grip yours. she gives them a gentle squeeze before backing away.

you give your sister a quick nod of the head before sliding out of her window and slipping into the night.

the enchanted, Mailtaria forest was nothing like you had imagined.

according to fairy tails, it was full of beasts and blood and gore but instead, you found twisted oak trees forming the shapes of hearts, soil that illuminated beneath your feet. the air was crisp, yet some how, warming and scented with the faintest of flowers.

roses.

you know in your heart, that if the war was nothing but a myth, yourself and your siblings could play here for hours on end as children. as you walk, your mind drifts to hoseok, wondering if he’s safe. the eldest of your siblings had been determined to fight the war ever since your mother’s passing, a headstrong boy who was fast on his feet but not with his mind.

the crack of a snapping branch in the distance kicks your senses into overdrive, making you duck in anticipation of a sudden attack. with a hand hovering over the sheath of your sword, you inhale deeply through your nose to keep your heart rate steady. there is no time for nerves, YN, no time for hesitance.

dragons were not creatures of remorse.

you ease yourself out of the bushes, mindful of the ruffling leaves that glow with some kind of fluorescence, magic that you’d not once laid your eyes on in your entire life. had you not been in the deep wood of the enchanted forest, to find and kill the dragon prince, you would have admired them more.

“why do you come, bearing a weapon?”

perhaps you may have spent too long, admiring the glistening petals.

you gasp, whipping out your sword and holding its point to the throat of the boy before you. slowly, your eyes trail upwards, shock connecting in your irises as you realise that he’s...floating. the boy has the hair of the silver moon, eyes as deep blue as the rough and raging Gialara seas, his lips are the colour of a blood rose with small and pearlescent fangs resting comfortably against their plumpness. he also wears a loose silk shirt that hangs simply from one shoulder, exposing his pale and slightly scaled skin. his pants are also lose, black in colour like the night sky to match his shirt. you note, that while he floats upside down, head tilted back towards you and body arched, he is also barefoot.

this must’ve been him, this must’ve been. “the dragon prince,” you hum cooly, steeling your eyes and reaffirming your stance. “i’m here to kill you.” your brows furrow in concentration, and the boy’s, in confusion. the dragon prince, pushes his bottom lip into a pout as he twists his body to face you fully. he sets himself down, against the plush grass and uses a single finger to flick your sword to the side.

“you have found me, yes,” the boy nods, giving you a tilted and faint smirk after his curious stare fades away. “i am kim taehyung, son of Veles and prince of the dragons...” the dragon watches as your stance falters, mouth open in shock at his strength to manipulate your mother’s sword. your palms begin to sweat at the sound of his full title, the name of the dragon king reminding you of the loss of your mother. “and i know, you will not kill me. i sense your being is far too compassionate to kill a living thing.”

you huff, dropping your arms and sending the vile thing a seething scowl. “you don’t know a thing about me-“

“my apologies, princess YN, i’m afraid i don’t,” taehyung interrupts you, stepping forward to inspect you closely. it was almost as if he had never seen a human before, but then again he was nothing like what you expected, especially in a dragon prince. before you can blink, you have been cornered into a tree, completely vulnerable and in the open. if he wanted to, taehyung could kill you right then and there, for the first time that night, a sprinkle of fear and adrenaline pumps it’s way through your veins. you glance up at the regal creature, shocked that he even knew such detail about yourself and bite your lip. “in that case, might you enlighten me as to, why you seek to take my life?”

taehyung is not what you expected at all, the question bouncing softly from his lips, as you begin to loosen up. his eyes shift to yellow under the light and you start to feel warm, as if you can trust him. “my father wants proof, that i would make a great and honourable Queen.” you explain bluntly, unsure of why the words feel foreign when mentioning it.

“interesting,” the prince comments, quirking a brow and smirking down at you as he rises off of his feet. “humans and their need for death and honour, i will never understand.”

and with that, taehyung disappears into the darkness of the forest. a chill runs up your spine, confused at your meeting but left wondering, what more was there to the dragon prince?

“...and then there’s the marriage proposal from prince seokjin, from the shatus kingdom overseas, would you like me to accept or deny?” jungkook drawls, feeling accomplished as he skips over the final sentence with a light frown. his heart clenches, but he doesn’t say anything further.

“yes, very good jungkook.”

“YN...”

“mhm...”

jungkook sighs, closing his book before tucking it under his arm for safety. he wouldn’t have been so annoyed if you were at least, half listening to him. tapping his foot in annoyance, the young advisor furrowed his brow deeply. “well in that case, i’ll spread word to the royal bakers that you will be requesting a cake made of pigs slop for the wedding party?”

“sounds wonderful,”

“...we’ll even give out small favours of their droppings too...”

“i’m sure the dukes and duchesses would love that, jeongguk...”

“i’m sure the whole kingdom would be delighted to know that you’re marrying kim seokjin.”

you slam your palms down on the windows, whipping your head to look at jungkook in shock. an amused grin tugs at his lips, as he approaches you to ruffle your hair fondly. now you were paying attention. “i will do no such thing!” you protest, pink painted lips forming a pout as you make an effort you lay down your tundra of wild locks. “me? marriage? what a preposterous idea. i should have you executed for that.”

“maybe now, you’ll learn to listen to me, your highness?” the raven haired boy titters, giving you an exaggerated bow. “you could never do such a thing to your oldest friend, YN.” yourself and jungkook had been acquainted ever since you could walk, a beautiful friendship blossoming over the many years. his father, had been your mother’s most trusted advisor during the war, he too passing away after the loss of your queen. it seemed that fate had its own twisted way of keeping yourself and jungkook together, for he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, much like you.

shaking your head, you push at his shoulders with a hidden grin and listen to the chime of his medallions as he sways. the silver lily on his chest, the symbol of the royal court, glistens much like the eyes of the man you met last night. taehyung’s beauty had entranced you so much, that the task at hand had been forgotten. of course, no one in the castle expected you to bring the head of a dragon back straight away...but something in you longed to see the awe, the shock and the respect on their faces when you did. they would learn to see you as their queen.

but something about taehyung, made you weak in the knees. an inexplainable feeling, a shy tint to your cheeks and a beat in your heart. he was different, not at all what you expected. walking away from jungkook, you pivot on your heel, the flush to your cheeks becoming more obvious by the second. “there will be no more marriage proposals from now on, jungkook. make that clear to the neighbouring kingdoms.” you remark, nodding your head with the wisps of a smile against your lips.

one of things, about having known you so long, is that jungkook could read you like an open book. the advisor could tell you were distracted, softer. it was almost as if his soon-to-be queen’s resistant and hard exterior had crumbled. this wasn’t your usual rejection of proposal, whereby you would growl and grumble so much so that the Huntcan tip mountains would quake in your presence. no, this was much like the time where the baker’s eldest son, yoongi, had snuck some treats up to your room when you were children. you had developed an infatuation for yoongi throughout your early teenage years, until he left the kingdom to open his own bakery, kissing you behind the rose bush in the royal garden on the night before he left.

this was fascination, this was admiration. “you like someone,” jungkook teases lightly, a knowing smile tickling at the corners of his lips. “did you find a compatible suitor, is that it?”

“the throne is my only object of affection,” you sigh, zealously. you twirled, a bright twinkle igniting stars in your eyes as the thought of taehyung’s silver lined ones and you can feel the excitement build in your veins. “a suitor? perhaps not,” the corner of your lips twitch up into a mischievous grin. “but the throne...it is a rather large one, is it not? awfully big for just one person.”

jungkook raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed while his jaw tightens and his tongue pokes into his cheek. “i see, i’ll be sure to have the staff engage in some...extensive cleaning of the throne room. we can’t have her highness leaving messes.” he states, lips falling into a flat line. tilting your head, the glint in your eye dissipates and thick somber feeling fills the room.

“jeonggukie?” you question with a quiet voice, swallowing thickly at his unexpected change in mood.

the advisor shakes his head, tussled locks falling over his eyes. jungkook turns, shrugging with the book still tucked under his arms, prepared to leave the room. “if i may be excused, princess, i have duties to attend to.”

“ah yes, of course...duties.” the whisper falls from between your lips, as you watch him go with an aching chest.

the view at castle ashwyn was one not to be taken for granted. the skies were daubed with gradients of apricot, papaya whip, and cherry blossom pink with dusting of baby power white as cotton candy clouds. the breeze was fresh, tinted with mint and rose, carrying the scents of the many flowers that twirled along the turquoise marble pillars of the castle.

the grass outside was freshly cut all the way up to the village, where creatures of all kind walked amongst each other. pixies, werewolves, elves and all, living together in harmony and if you squinted hard enough, over the towering trees, you could see where they lived. the humans.

taehyung hated it.

the sickly sweetness that constantly surrounded himself and his people, where all that was in the human world was death, despair, greed and power imbalances. he hated the falsities that engulfed his father’s death, how everyone pretended.

that there was no life of suffering outside of his own.

it was beautiful here, life touched every corner to cover the illusion of the war beyond these walls. the prince felt trapped. he wanted to break free of all expectations, experience the world and see the legends he had been told as a child. taehyung was not a fool to the whispers, the taunts and teases from the royal courts. they had always doubted him for his optimistic view on the simple things, on them, for humans had taken his father and so he was destined to resent them for the rest of his life.

“taehyung, my love, what preys on your mind today?”

taehyung’s mother, the dragon queen, was a soft spoken and wise woman. ever since the death of his father, there had been many attempts to overthrow her from many kinds...including the sirens. and yet, they never once succeed as only royalty of dragon’s blood can bestow the crown. dragons had ruled the land of the Avalerian dynasty since the dawn of time, forging the first crown from the molten minerals buried deep beneath the castle’s soils. they were the most powerful of all creatures, dominating the earth as their large majestic forms but the dragons were also prime game for hunting, their scales and horns could go for up to a hundred gold coins. so the dragons learned to adapt, becoming shifters with a half human form, this allowed them to retain their abilities as dragons whilst allowing them to walk free amongst the humans.

the queen was stunning, and perhaps that is where the young prince inherited his charming look. her scales were of a deep cherry, shimmering under the lights like the brightest of diamonds. her black hair had curled tendrils that spiralled down her back and her skin was tanned by the golden suns of apollo. with piercing, aquatic eyes, queen elantris tilts her head to look at her son, she had always known his shifts in mood and thanked her maternal instinct for being able to read her ominous child.

“it’s nothing, your highness,” the young prince muses simply, turning to his mother with soft eyes and an awkward smile. smiling fondly, elantris shook her head and approached her son, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug. her tail swishes behind her, in her half shifted state, the castle being too small to accommodate for the large size of royally bred dragons. taehyung spares a glance to the older, and shorter woman, squinting carefully to see the diamond-slit irises in her yellowing eyes. it was almost laughable at how well dragons were able to shift between states, taking on a human form is completely desired. that is how they killed the human king. mastering the art of disguise. “perhaps, i am exhausted, i had a rather gruelling night.”

“deep in thought again, my love dear?” elantris chuckles, brushing back the fading ashy locks from her son’s forehead. taehyung sucks in a calmed breath, closing his eyes at his mothers warm touch and allows himself to shift too. he is much more relieved to have is tail free, blackened and swishing behind him. his ears become pointed and irises shift into diamond slits. elantris beams as her child transforms. “you’ve been keeping yourself hidden, i see.”

“i needed to be out, some fresh air to clear the mind, mother...” the prince whines and stretches, shivering as his ash scales form over his skin and hair fades from grey to black.

taehyung pouts under the gaze of his mother, what a sight to see. the most regal prince, pouting under the amused gaze of his parent. “away with your thoughts, as you always have been, my prince...” elantris lilts and lets go of the boy, moving towards her seat on the throne. the seat itself is glorious, spiralling toward the ceiling with peaks in its molten crystal. “what preys on your mind?”

the young dragon, ruffling out his hair and adjusting his clothes. he wears a jewelled black jacket, a gradient of white pearls to obsidian diamonds. he adorns a fitting pair of black pants and boots with heels. taehyung shift his gaze to the diluting pink skies above and breathes heavily. “humans...why is that we despise them?”

taehyung’s mother sucks in a breath, tongue swiping over the ruby of her lips. the prince turns his body to look at the queen properly, tilting is head and poking his own tongue into his cheek as he eases a brow, awaiting his mother’s answer. “dragons are stubborn creatures, most unforgiving...it is not easy for us to forget,” elantris explains noncommittally, keeping her voice study and demeanour controlled.

“what is there to be forgotten? how did this all start?”

“that is what we have yet to learn my son, this conflict has been raging on for centuries now, words and swords alike...twisted,” the dragon queen pauses, looking her son directly in the eye. “twisted into lies and fatalities...”

“and so...we fight?” taehyung prompts, his stomach bubbling with unease at his mother’s cryptic words.

elantris nods, head held high. “and so, we fight.”

“you are forgiven, you know.”

you look up from your flower crown, fluorescent roses and tiger lillies woven together by their grass green stems and frown. taehyung is sitting in the trees, his hair is now the colour of a teal tinged with blue while his eyes simmered a warm amber in the cool night.

meeting taehyung had been nothing but a coincidence, yet you found yourself becoming grateful for your accidental meetings. the clearing you shared with him had followed you to your dreams, being with him under the moonlight now brought you to ease.

“forgive me for what? do tell.” you probe tartly and turn your body in the grass to ask why. the dragon prince drops from the tree and you screw your eyes shut in fear of hearing the sickening crunch that often accompanies broken bones. but instead the prince floats above you, face but mere inches from yours as a taunting smirk touches lightly at his lips. a rosey hue tickles the apples of your cheeks as you look away, cursing the creature from under your breath.

taehyung smiles and settles himself on the ground, sinking to his knees to aid you in making some flower crowns. “for being human,” the dragon shrugs nonchalantly and picks up a completed crown, leaning forward to place it stop your hair. his lips are a breaths width from your skin, and a warmth bubbles in your chest at the prospect of feeling them against yours, eyes closing. when you open them, you gasp at the proximity of they prince, blinking rapidly and blushing. he’s so close that it seems like he was watching you. “mother says dragons must learn to be forgiving. so here i am, forgiving you.”

“what makes you think, that you are not required to seek my forgivenesses well?” you counter as a slight aggression weaves it’s way into your question, tilting your head upwards with stern eyes. taehyung bites his lip, slit tongue poking out to wet them at their swell. “should you not owe it to me? while my people die fighting against your best men, do you not believe that an apology from yourself, would be quite fitting?”

you chose this moment to shuffle away from taehyung, turning to face the trees

in the distance as you pat the heat away from your cheeks. “your people have magic, powers. and mine? nothing but a bare chest, swords and a shield. yet, you do not hear me forcing the forgiveness of my people upon you,” you point out— almost too harshly, twirling a piece of grass between your fingers. “you sit, protected in your realm while only your most powerful touch the bloodied soils. you kill, as do i. i do not seek your forgiveness, but the life of my people instead. the life of young boys,” a pause in your speech allows your mind to flicker back to hoseok, your fingers how clenching the grass within your disgust. “barely fit to fight, that are drafted into the war. women and children who are torn apart. please, forgive me, for not wanting to accept your so called forgiveness.”

“how do you know this? that we only send out best?” taehyung queries nervously, his tone quiet as his feet come into your blurry field of view. he senses in his chest that you’re hurt, scared and in pain. this is what the war did, not to his people but to the humans. it hurt you. everyone.

the laugh that passes your lips, is cold and cynical. your eyes possess a glassiness, glittering with fresh tears as you look to taehyung with anger painted against your face. “you have just told me.”

guilt washes over the dragon as he crouches down before you, placing a finger under your chin to tilt your head up to face him. his thumb brushes the tears that spill from the corner of your eyes as his lips form the words that whisper, “i’m sorry.”

he is sorry for your pain, he is sorry for the burden that you bare on your shoulders. he is sorry that he cannot make it stop, he is sorry.

the following weeks bring you back to the clearing, where taehyung desperately tries to erase his night of ignorance. you would meet nightly, under the sky with glittering constellations and stars that told a thousand and one stories. you were away from the world where lives were torn apart and the cloud of death was ever growing.

you were alone and happy.

taehyung would show you many of his tricks, how he could birth a flame just by the click of his fingers. how he could make smoke rise from his ears and nose and how the colour of his hair changed with his mood. the prince had become your friend, a regular occurrence to your life that you could not deal without.

but tonight, you would be prevented from such luxuries.

the tips of your fingers dabbed lightly at your lips, buffing the ruby red into your flesh. a maid worked by your side, primping and prepping locks of your hair so that they shone under the crystal lights. your makeup was light, yet fierce, shades of mint and green spreading across your eyelids to match the fitting ballroom gown you wore. it was lace that curled into silver lily flowers, from the shoulders and down to your hips, twisting into a wide tule skirt that was painted with frosted blues and mint green fading into white. a necklace of pure diamonds rested just above your breast, a matching crown woven into your tamed hair and a pair of earrings, your mother’s earrings to go with. as you sit still, letting the maids pretty you for the evening to come, you recall a time where you would have loved to be in a dress like this. times where your mother would only faintly dust your cheeks with blush whilst your father readied hoseok in the other room. tamarae was but a twinkle in your mother’s eye back then.

the girl in the mirror stares back at you, the trace of queen aadaya on her skin. closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to calm your aching heart and hum in agreement when the doors to your quarters open. tamarae beamed at you as her own maids helped her inside, she was a gown less bold than your own but equally pretty as fuchsia pinks spiralled soft lavenders. dresses like these were reserved for special occasions, to impress guests from outside castle walls, making a sick shiver crawl down your spine at the thought of elder dukes and lords and men vying for the attention of yourself and the young princess.

of course, the banquet for tonight was your father’s doing, in an attempt to find you a suitor right away. he claimed that you had failed to prove yourself in the last weeks, with no trace of the dragon’s heart in your possession. so with nothing but the grace of the queens before you, you accepted his invitation to host a banquet.

“you look beautiful, sister...you’ve grown so well,” you stand slowly, lifting your skirts to make your way over to the young princess. she bows her head in a small curtesy for you causing you to chuckle fondly. you allow your finger under her chin to tilt her head up, smiling softly at the girl, the spitting image of your mother. “now now, you are my sister, tamarae. formalities are not required for tonight, even if it is a special event,” you tease with a whisper in her ear, causing the younger to giggle slightly. “for you and i both know we shall be sneaking into the royal kitchen after the night is done!”

tamarae tucks a white lock of hair behind her ear, giggling happily as her small hands clasp onto yours. “big sister, we both know hoseokie would have made me take watch if he were here,” she remarks in response and pokes your nose, ignoring the glares of maids who had spent hours perfecting your look.

as a young adult— becoming a queen, the ballroom was often a reminder of simpler days whereby warm summery breezes wafted through the large french windows, carrying soft scents of the fresh lemons and oranges that grew in the royal gardens. hoseok would have been chasing you down, playing the role of big bad dragon whilst you pulled a fumbling two year old tamarae behind you. your parents would always come running in to save the day, mother playing the knight that took hoseok down and your father the one who saved his two princesses.

those were happier times, better times.

before you knew it, you were seated on the throne with the best view of the entire room. the ballroom had towering white pillars sprouting like flowers against a mahogany glossed wooden floor, the walls are splashed with an egg-shell blue with small cherry blossoms contrasting against the colour. accents of gold decorate every nook and cranny of the room and the ceiling paints a picture of fairytale creatures dancing amongst the man. men gallop across the hall with blushing ladies in their arm, those who aren’t dancing are stuffing their faces with the array of sweet treats and savoury delights that are positioned precisely against white sheet banquet tables.

introductions pass without you paying any mind, distracted by thoughts of taehyung whisking you away to your clearing in the forest, playing with the many creatures there. you slip back to reality when a sudden pain spreads across your left rib, making you scowl at the culprit...tamarae. the younger smiles sheepishly and points to the man apparoaching your throne.

his hair is a soft, candy pink, contrasting with the black blouse and dress pants he wore. when he bows to yourself and your sister, you catch a glimpse of his dark, misty brown eyes and find yourself curious to search them more. “he’s handsome,” tamarae teases you, moving to stand up as he steps forward. her gaze flickers up to your stoic face as she giggles. “don’t you think?”

“he looks like he’s full of himself.”

the man eyed you darkly while you held out your hand for him to take. “namjoon, kim namjoon...” his voice sends shivers down your spine, good or bad , you’re not sure. his skin is golden like honey and his tone drips with the same smoothness. “of the Kevimore kingdom.”

namjoon gives you a dimples smile, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lush lips for a gentle kiss. tamarae giggles by your side as you watch the man through your lashes, humming in content. it was always nice to see a man bend his will for you. “you may address me, as princess YN of the Phantis Empire,” you say, equally as smoothly whilst you tilt your head to the side. namjoon straightens his posture, bowing in respect. “i do hope you enjoy your stay here, tonight.”

with your final word, you turn your gaze to the crowd and watch as they twirl about in tune with the orchestra but smile when you catch the eye of your beloved advisor. you had not danced at a ball like this, since you were a child and back then, hoseok had always been your partner but he wasn’t here now, he was fighting a war that wasn’t his. your sister delivers a sharp elbow to your side, causing you to grunt as you ready to scold her into next year. “ahem,” she whispers, jabbing your side again and nodding her head in gesture to namjoon. “he’s still here.”

“i’m aware,”

“that means he requires your attention.”

“attention that i do not have for a man, tamarae.”

“YN, he’s right there!”

“and he can hear you...” namjoon interjects with a small chuckle, poking his tongue into his cheek while his lips form an amused smirk. he taps his ear while a light flush rises beneath the skin of your cheeks, much to the prince’s delight.

you duck your head, imagining that the prince before you gets off at the thought of making you blush. “is there anything i can help you with, prince namjoon?”

he nods once, pink locks falling into his eyes as his dimples smile appears once more. “a dance, with you? my queen?”

blinking, your lips part in shock. the only person to ever acknowledge you as the soon to be queen was jungkook, and that was often a joke between the two of you. but for a split second, it seemed— that namjoon’s dark, stormy eyes saw past the extravagance and diamonds— and saw you. the queen you were meant to be.

“she would love to,” you sister answers for you, pushing at your shoulder to force you to stand. you rise to your feet, unsteady on them and almost toppling forward. namjoon quickly catches you by the arm, offering you an earth shattering smile with dazzling eyes as he chooses that moment to lead you onto the ballroom floor. following namjoon, you turn around and give your younger sister a faux frown, sticking your tongue out at her. the maids around you gasp at your behaviour, while tamarae giggles and mocks your face.

upon reaching the dance floor, namjoon skilfully pulls you into his arms, pressing his chest to yours to guide your steps into the waltz. “you’re light on your feet, are you sure you’re not a dancer?” he chuckles quietly into your ear, making goosebumps arise across the planes of your skin.

you turn with him, taking the lead from his grasp and smile cheekily. “i’m trained to fight, being light on my feet is part of the battle.” but your grin quickly falls upon seeing jungkook turn away with disappointment, what was going on with him?

“ah, i see.” the prince falls silent at your words, offering you a quiet noise of agreement as the pace of the music rises and you start to speed up your dance.

namjoon is a handsome man, his terracotta lips seem warm and inviting, his eyes although dark make you want to lose yourself in him. the prince is tall, at least a head or so taller than you and his arms that hold you are firm and large. namjoon is attractive but...

but he is not taehyung.

the pink haired prince dips you, face hovering over yours as he takes a moment to tuck a fallen hair behind your ear. your cheeks heat up at his proximity but you swallow down your nerves and stutter out. “n-namjoon...i,”

“you’re beautiful, my queen,” he says simply, running a thumb over your bottom lips before he pulls you back into his chest. “what i wouldn’t give to have you ruling by my side.”

“e-excuse me?”

“you’d make an excellent wife, YN.”

gobsmacked, you try to rip yourself away from namjoon but his grip on your waist is too tight and suddenly he no longer looks charming and gentle, a sinister stare taking over his features. “let me go, namjoon. by order of the princess i demand that you let me go!” you scoff at him through gritted teeth still struggling in his grip. “if you believe that flattery will get you my hand in marriage then you are severely mistaken, my prince. i am a queen born to rule without a man, and i shall do so, just fine.”

namjoon tilts his head in a sympathetic fashion, pressing you closer to him. “oh but princess, we are already on the path to being wed,” he hums, his lips ghosting over yours as you squirm away from his touch. “by order of your father, i am set to marry you three weeks from now, since you failed to bring the head of the dragon prince.”

“no that’s not, it can’t be...he wouldn’t...he wouldn’t do that,” you mumble, feeling panic rise in your chest and lodge itself in your throat. your perfect world suddenly shatters, your view for the future torn to shreds. your father had sold your soul away to namjoon, who you now saw as a man who yearned for power. “he can’t.”

“then your father is not the man you believed him to be.” namjoon concludes. “now put on a pretty face and smile for our loyal subjects, my queen.”

you gasp with tears beginning to flood your field of view, your eyes searching in the crowd for someone, anyone to tell you it’s not true. who’s face falls at your wounded expression, he knows, you think. jungkook knew and he didn’t think to tell you. your heart shatters into a million pieces and all you can think is out out out. you need to get out.

but for now you turn to namjoon and give him a dazzling smile through your tears, as jungkook watches you with a guilty gaze.

running.

they say that running is able to clear your mind. but instead all of your thoughts and fears ran wildly beside you as you bolted through the forest. you could feel them, all of your worst nightmares crawling up your spine and scratching at your skin as you tumbled through the forest.

by the time you reach the clearing, you’re clawing at your throat and desperately gasping for air through your choked sobs. you can’t marry namjoon, you won’t marry namjoon. your body trembles with the sobs that wrack your tiny frame, the dress that you wear is suddenly too tight and all you can do is wail for an escape.

“YN! you have returned, i have to admit i missed you dearly-“ taehyung starts to ramble, just having come from a flight amongst the canopies. the dragon cuts himself off when he notices you collapsing onto your knees and tearing at the dress. “princess YN? YN, are you alright?” he drops to his knees beside you, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. the prince hates the way your chest is heaving, how a wild panic has spread through your darling eyes. “breathe for me princess, it’s alright, i’ve got you.”

your eyes stay with his as taehyung coaches you through, his ice like irises calming you down as they watch you with concern. the dragon prince brushes a hand through your hair to soothe you as you hiccup and sniff, attempting to ease your panic. “off, i want it off, all of it...” you grumble moving to tear at your gown. taehyung follows your movements, using a shifted dragon claw to shred off the remains of your skirt and help you out of the tight fitting corset until all that remains is your sheer and tule petticoat.

“better?” your companion asks, pulling you into his silk shirt. taehyung is warm, much morse so compared to the cool evening, you remember him explaining that dragons have a heart of coal. meaning that the blood that flows through them is heated and molten.

you nod shakily and move to hold his hand as a wave of comfort washes over you. “much, thank you taehyung.”

“are you going to tell me what happened?” the prince presses gently, not wanting you to hold it in. if there was anything taehyung had learned about you in the last few weeks, is that you never had an outlet. you were closed off from the world, locked away and never let anyone see the vulnerable sides of you and yet...you somehow found it in you to trust him.

nodding slowly, you turn and bury your face into his firm chest, fisting at the silk of his new azure blouse. “my father...” you sigh, letting your breath even out as you stumble to find the words. “he betrayed my trust...he turned the court against me and made them promise me to another man...” you feel taehyung’s breath hitch as his chest moves. quickly, you move to look up at taehyung and all you can think to do is kiss him but you can’t, not when you’re now promised to another. “i don’t love him, i could never be in love with someone so horrible.”

the now raven haired, dragon prince says nothing, instead choosing to squeeze you closer into his broad frame. he doesn’t look at you, mind racing a million miles an hour. you were to be married. and it wouldn’t be to him. so it is with a waking start that taehyung realises he is deeply, sorely in love with you. his chest rumbled at the thought of another man’s hands on you, kissing you and touching you, touching what was his. without meaning to, you place your hands on taehyung’s chest and grab at his attention. his usual ocean eyes flash with yellow and his primal senses are suddenly full of you. all he can see is your face under the light of the moon and stars, all he can feel is your touch on him and all he can smell is the sweet scent of lilies, of you.

“tae...taehyung?” you whisper, sniffling as you lean up and tilt his head to look at you. “i will be alright, i refuse to let this stop me from seeing you.”

he ignores your words, pulling you to stand with him. “lets go for a fly.” the prince says with bright eyes, staring at you.

“a fly? taehyung have you lost your mind-?”

“it’ll be fun, i promise you. it’ll clear your head.”

you slowly tear yourself from taehyung’s grip, holding your hand to your chest with a nervousness swirling in your stomach. flying. taehyung had told you that he was able to fully transform into a dragon, with all the same abilities as well. he called it shifting, and that meant he was able to breathe fire, roar like a mighty beast and fly. “i’m scared...” you admit, sheepishly. “what if...what if i fall?”

“do you trust me?” taehyung asks sternly, stepping towards you and holding his hand out for you to take.

“i...what?”

“i said, do you trust me?”

you hesitate before closing your eyes tightly and nodding, taking taehyung’s hand. “i trust you.”

your eyes remain screwed shut as the crunch of bones fills the unoccupied silence of the woods. you flinch at the sound and the slip of taehyung’s hand from yours, whilst his heaves and groans become growls and roars. away from the warmth of taehyung’s body, you realise how cold the forest is in just your petticoat but you’re shivers are quickly ceased when a puff of hot hair surrounds you and a large head nudges your body. opening your eyes slowly, you gasp at the large beast before you, the taehyung that you know has been replaced with an oblivion black dragon, hints of silver and blue illuminating his scales under the shimmering night sky. the dragon presses it’s head to your hand, making you reach out hesitantly as you stare deep into its amber irises.

‘do you trust me?’

you remember taehyung’s words as the majestic beast bows to you, you chuckle and watch as the dragon moves back, stretching out to spread its wings. you imagine that the wings themselves must be as wide as the west wing of your castle back home. when the dragon returns to his original position, you’re met with a puff of warm air, strong enough to blow locks of your hair away from your face. “impatient creature, aren’t you?” you giggle to yourself and clamber up onto taehyung’s head, making him shake it in response.

with a deep breath, you hold on tightly to the spines feathering taehyung’s neck and close your eyes once more, listening to the sounds of his wings flap as he lifts you both off of the ground. the next time you open your eyes, you’re up in the air, soaring above the clouds. the pair of you are so high that the colour of the sky fades from a soft pink to the deep blue below, the beginnings of the sun shining in the distance.

then taehyung makes a nose dive.

the air rushes through your hair as you squeal, heading face first for the land beneath you. taehyung spirals his body as you throw your hands into the air, squealing loudly with happiness, you can feel every fear and doubt that clogged your mind and body rush away with the wind in your face. the dragon prince evens out his body, spreading his wings as you drift across the night sky, watching the world go by with you above it. you lean forward and rest the palms of your hands on taehyung’s, stroking it lightly as you fly past the stars.

when the clearing reappears in your field of view, taehyung tilts his body and begins the descent through the clouds. he flies low, letting you reach your hand out to touch the glistening water below. “w-woah, tae...taehyung!” you cry in amusement, feeling him shift beneath you, his bones realign as he grows tired and reverts back to his human form. his wings somehow manage to remain as the prince’s familiar face returns and he beams up at you. his wings encircle you as you make a crash landing into the clearing. the pair of you roll and tumble out onto the illuminated grass below you, taehyung’s wings protecting you and softening your fall. you manage to uncurl in his grip, landing beneath him as his palms flatten out by your head to stop himself from crushing you.

“hi...” you pant, looking up at the dragon prince with glittering eyes. your hand reaches up to touch at taehyung’s soft face, his eyes still golden glowing irises and his curled hair now a faded black. he’s beautiful, he always has been but in this moment, you feel like you have finally see him. you can finally see that you love him.

taehyung looks down at you through hooded eyes, moving to run a thumb over your pinkish bottom lip, his breath uneven from the flight. “hello, my queen.” he says simply, face nearing yours. you feel your lashes against your cheeks as your eyes flutter shut, taehyung nosing your cheeks until his soft lips reach your own. hands in your hair, the prince tilts his head and kisses you. his lips mould perfectly against yours and you can feel your heartbeat wildly in your chest as your arms wrap around his neck and fingers curl in his wavy locks. taehyung kisses you like you’re his, and only his and all you want is to feel is him.

taehyung’s hands use a tentative touch as they slide down to your sides, slipping under your petticoat to smooth over your bare skin. you gasp as his lips venture out into the junction at your neck, curling your fingers in his hair as his hands push further and further up your clothes. he roams your skin like foreign terrain— fingers dipping at peaks and the curve of your body. “taehyung...” you whimper breathlessly, pushing your head back into the lush grass below.

the dragon freezes at the sound passing from your lips, moving to pull away. “are you hurt? did i hurt you?” taehyung asks worriedly, honey eyes boring into your soul. you sit up, confused as you shake your head no, wondering if your eagerness to kiss him has driven him away. “i’ve never...i haven’t done this before...” the ravenette adds, gesturing between you both. never done...what?

oh...

“been with a women before?” you ask gently, sitting up and leaning your chin on taehyung’s shoulder. you tilt your gaze towards him, smiling softly and move to cup his cheek. “i have never...been with a man either...you would be my first.” you whisper shyly, you had little time for courting as a princess, your royal duties taking up much of your time. but here you were, curled up with taehyung on possibly the most beautiful place on earth, feeling more ready than you had ever been.

“let me have you, if you will?” the prince asks lowly, warm breath fanning over your lips.

“you have me, all of me...”

that was all it took for taehyung to crash his lips against yours once more, this time his tongue tracing over the seam of your own as he pleads for entrance to your mouth. you happily oblige, welcoming his warm tongue with your own in a battle for dominance, dancing together while his large hands pulled at your under clothes. you arched your back, letting him tug the tule garment off of you and spreading your thighs as he nudged them apart.

“you’re so beautiful,” taehyung murmurs, pulling back from the kiss to admire you. his amber irises darkened to a dark gold as he drunk in your naked body, leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. “i want to mark you...” he added, biting down on your supple flesh and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. “fuck you, breed you. would you like that princess?” he growls.

you arch your back as his hands come to cup your breast, squeezing them between slender fingers whilst he works a trail of purples down to your chest. “god, please...taehyung!”

chuckling deeply, using his dragon abilities, the prince blows a gust of hot air over your left nipple once his mouth reaches its destination. his snake like tongue pokes out to lick a stripe over the perky bud before he takes your breast into his mouth harshly, biting down and letting his primal instincts take over. even if he was a virgin, being a dragon, taehyung was genetically programmed to please during breeding seasons. he knew what he was doing, especially when you moaned aloud.

a hand slips down your sides and into your panties, circling over your clit to spread your wetness as it glistened under the moonlight. “you’re soaking, my princess,” taehyung hums, still squeezing your breast as he sucked your nectar off of his fingers. “may i taste you?”

“yes, please...” you gasp.

taehyung raises an unimpressed brow, pinching your nipple causing you to whine. “please what?”

eyes rolling, you moan out the only title you can think of, hoping it will urge the dragon on. “please...my king.”

the prince with obsidian hair curses under his breath, making quick work of tearing off your panties and shuffling onto his belly on the grass so that he nears your entrance. taehyung spreads your lower lips widely, chuckling at the juices that flow from your flower. “so pretty, petal.” he says, watching you writhe under the night air before locking eyes with you through his curled locks. the air that hits your pulsing heat, is cool but taehyung’s breath is hothothot. his lush lips suckle on your clit before his burning tongue swipes over the length of your pussy, heated from his dragon’s core. taehyung sweeps at any of your sweet nectar that gushes from your hole, humming in content before pushing his tongue past your entrance making you cry from pleasure and curl your fingers in his hair.

“look at you, absolutely dripping just for your king,” taehyung growls against your burning cunt, the vibrations sending your eyes rolling back in your head. desire burns brightly in the pits of your stomach, as you start to rut your hips into his face, the prince having neglected your wetness in favour of whispering foul words into your thighs. taehyung flicks at your swollen clit, making your legs wobble and threaten to close around his head. not that you would mind the view. “such beautiful sight, baby.”

he dove his tongue into your tight hole, as arousal fogged your senses and his instincts to your body heightened. the world between your sweet thighs was slick, tasting of the most luxurious of treats to taehyung and he could tell he was becoming addicted to you. a finger slipped past your entrance, along with his tongue, thrusting inside of you and catching on the walls of your pussy. you wriggled against the grass, spread out in the open nature whilst taehyung claimed you with his tongue. “m close, m close!” you squealed when taehyung added another finger, fearing that your high was coming to soon. the prince was giving you pleasure that you had never felt before, that couldn’t be achieved with your own hand or imagination. you weren’t sure that you wanted it to end.

nimble fingers gripped at taehyung’s mop of sooty hair as he lapped faster and faster at your sensitive bud, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter until suddenly...it snapped. “cum for me, princess, reward your king.”

white flashes behind your eyes as your release crashes over you, signs of your arousal painting taehyung’s chin and face. he licks over his bottom lip, chest rumbling at the taste of you before he moves between your thighs to and up to your face. he kisses you sweetly, once...twice... allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before deepening the kiss. the pair of you become a pile of limbs, entangled in the grass as teeth and tongue clash together. your hands wind down the path way of the prince’s body, stopping above his belt loop hesitantly.

taehyung forces himself to pull away from your onslaught of kisses, pressing his forehead to yours— eyes closing with a pant falling from his lips. “you don’t have to...” he mumbles, lips ghosting over yours while he noses your cheek.

taehyung’s hair brushes softly over your forehand, his eyes tightly shut away from the world as if, when he sees you again, he won’t be able to control himself. you stare up at him, taking in his every mole and freckle that dots his face. you trust him. “i want to, please— let me, my liege.” you insisted, a neediness sparking in your eyes.

“fuck...the things you do to me, princess,” hisses hotly, his cock twitching in his briefs as you rolled him over. the dragon prince quickly stood, helping position you comfortably on your knees before letting his hands fly to the buckle of his breeches. watching him closely, you felt your mouth water in anticipation— you’d never in your life seen a man in full glory before, let alone a mythical creature such as taehyung. you suspected him to be girthy, but your expectations were exceed as he proceeded to roll down his breeches and undergarments in one.

taehyung’s cock was not only thick and girthy, but lengthy as well, so big that for a brief second, you were unsure that your own two hands would fit around it, let alone your mouth. your jaw dropped in awe as your eyes observe him. “well...uh, there’s something about us dragon’s that.... that perhaps i failed to mention-“ taehyung but his lip with nervousness, his confident and dominant aura suddenly wavering.

“you have two heads-“ you blurt out, gaze trained on the second head of his forked member. “there’s two!”

the prince blushes, running a hand through his curled hair and swallowing thickly. “for mating purposes, it increases the success of a female carrying...” taehyung pauses is breathe explanation, frowning deeply as you touch curiously at his cock. “—carrying offspring, princess.”

the pet name comes out as some what of a warning, making you smile sheepishly at the man above you. “it’s got spines, taehyung...you cant expect me not to touch you!” you defend yourself, watching him closely. “it’s hot too.”

“for pleasure purposes, dragons are also naturally hot.”

“do you think it will fit? i’ve not been with a man before i-“

seemingly sensing the nerves that stir in your stomach, taehyung leans down to grip your chin and tilts your head upwards to catch your eye. “i’ve got you, petal,” he whispers and presses a light chaste kiss to your lips. “do you trust me?”

“yes, more than anything.” you breathe, settling back onto your knees as taehyung guides your mouth towards his pulsing cock. your eyes trail up his body as he tugs off his shirt from above you, his skin is glazed with a layer of sweat and desire pours through your system like the molten lava that intertwines with his dragon blood. you imagine that he tastes sweet, like the finest wines of the Ubeozia dynasties.

leaning forward you shakily take taehyung’s tips past your lips, sucking on it hesitantly while he starts to groan. the dragon sucks in a breath from the night air as you take him further into your mouth, looking up at him with sparkling doe eyes. “you’re doing so well, my darling princess, so good for me.” he sighs.

his cock his hot against your tongue, forming tingling sensation at your lips while you work on bobbing your head. curses fall out from underneath taehyung’s breathy moans whilst his eyes flash golden like Apollo’s sun. his large hands thread between your loosened locks as they tickle at your exposed shoulders, encouraging you to give him more.

your hands sit small on the base of his girth, fisting at what you cannot fit making a wetness pool between the apex of your thighs as you think about being stuffed full of him. taehyung lets out a small moan, closing his eyes and throwing his head back to face the stars as he shallowly thrusts his length into your welcoming mouth. your tongue works circles around his cock making taehyung’s fingers curl in your hair, massaging your scalp as he gently pushes your hot mouth further down on his pulsing, red hot cock.

he hisses and grunts when you’re tongue glides over his slit, abdomen clenching as he feels himself fall into his high. you gasp as the dragon paints your tongue with a smokey release, his cum is a foreign feel against your tongue but brings you satisfaction as he quivers through the after shocks of his orgasm. softly, you let go of his member, sliding your tongue over your bottom lip to capture the rest of his cum— keeping your eyes trained on him.

“how does it taste?” taehyung asks darkly, sinking into his knees to cup your face.

you hum for a moment, parting your lips gently as his thumb brushes over them. “salty, no...ashy.” you conclude, breathing lightly. taehyung quirks a brow, leaning forward to press a searing kiss to your lips, his tongue swipes over your bottom one as he gradually pushes you back into the lush grass, positioning himself between your legs.

“that’s because our release is fuelled by the fires that burn in our hearts,” the prince explains, pulling away from your lips to whisper in your ear. now that you’ve tasted me, it’s time i mark your beautiful little cunt.”

you gasp as the tips of his thick cock brush as your entrance, instinctively locking your thighs around his hips. your chest rises and falls with the anticipation of having taehyung, the man you love, claim you. you’re in love, you love taehyung with all your heart and now he was to make you his. sighs of adoration fill the air between you as taehyung slowly pushes into your virgin hole, of course, having more than one tip would make it hurt, but only just— making your nails dig into the skin at taehyung’s shoulder.

he stops is movements, the prince knows that it will be difficult for your tiny human body to handle his stamina and size, after all, you had already cum once and were nearing exhaustion. “i’m sorry, my petal...my queen, i know it hurts,” he cooes, nosing at your neck to ease the pain. one hand curls in taehyung’s thick locks as he fully enters you with one tip of his cock, the second slowly slipping past the lips of your cunt. the dragon prince drops a hand to your clit, slowly rubbing in circles until the pleasure overrides the sting where you bleed. “you’re doing so well for me, taking all of my cock like the good queen you are.”

taehyung waits for you to adjust as he continues to lazily flick at your bud, while you slowly start to open up for him like the roses at his mother’s place. “please...move taehyungie...move!” you mewl, throwing your head back into the soft grass as pleasure begins to overwhelm your senses.

the prince smiles down at you, taking in the the twisted look of delight against your delicate features and the curve of your breast as you arch your back. taehyung bottoms out inside of you, gently thrusting his length within your tight, dripping walls and closes his eyes at the sound of your sweet moans. you feel like you were made just for him, for him only and when he opens his eyes, he can’t help but lean down and claim your mouth, slipping his tongue past the barriers of your lips when you part them.

“look at you, princess, so tight for me— your king,” he praises tenderly against your hips, dropping his face to your neck as you tighten around him involuntarily. “you’re mine, made for me and my cock. you got that princess?”

“yours, yours my king.” you pant, fingertips dancing across the expanse of your lover’s freckled back.

taehyung deepens his thrusts, the spines on his cock catching against your slick walls as he reaches deeper inside of you. he sucks a little of bruises into your neck, purples, pinks and burgundies painting a picture of his love for you while he works their. your hips lift to match his thrusts, sucking him in as you both move together under the moonlight. the sounds of love filled moans and groans fills the cool air of the forest, long forgotten as taehyung pounds into you, letting you feel every inch of his cock. his grunts send shivers down your spine, making you arch your back into him. taehyung pushes your hips down, pushing his member into your sweet spot causing more of your juicies to gush down your wobbling thighs.

you bite your lip in an attempt to silence your cries, an unexplainable wave of pleasure coursing through your veins as taehyung yanks your hips down to his. “s’good…please don’ stop,” you slur pathetically into the night, a sheen of sweat dousing your skin, the sound of your desperation making the head’s taehyung’s length twitch inside of you. he wasn’t sure how long he would last, with the way your virgin cunt clamped down on him like a vice. the tightness was almost unbearable, each thrust bringing him closer and closer to the edge. “need you, need you m-my king!”

taehyung’s mop of hair drops to your collar bones as he bites on them to silence his growls of possession. “fuck me, princess, fuck,” he slurs, his cock swelling as if he’s about to burst. the first head of his member stimulating that special spot, while the other fills your needy hole. “wonder what your courts would say if they saw you like this, princess,” taehyung pants into your neck, one hand sliding between your bodies to stimulate your clit while the other grips your breast, as he leans against you, pressing his hips into yours. “saw their queen spread out for the dragon king so desperate and needy for his dragon cock...fuck baby, what would they say?”

“t-they’d be ... ashamed!” you squeal, arching your back and lifting your hips to meet taehyung’s thrusts.

he smirks, fucking into you harder, until you’re full to the brim and you can feel him deep in your womb. “but i wouldn’t be, m’ so proud of my princess for taking me like this...” taehyung pants, looking deep into your eyes, sweaty hair falling over his own amber irises. “cum with me, my love.”

you grab and pull at taehyung, touching at skin hair and lips as your release starts to creep up on you. the pace of taehyung’s hips never slow but start to become sloppy as your senses become overwhelmed with him. the tips of his cock brush at your spot once more, making you scream with pleasure as the damn finally bursts and you cream on his member, painting him with your release as the first spirts of his cum fill your hole. “taehyung, tae..please,” you cry, soft tears springing in your eyes as he locks his gaze on yours, hips slowing to a grind as he pumps his thick, hot seed inside of you. there’s so much, never ending as his release gathers within your cunt, searingly hot as lewd sounds of your wetness’ mixing fills the air. “i love you...”

your words are barely above a whisper, tears of warmth and happiness spilling from your eyes as taehyung cups your cheeks and swoops down to kiss you lovingly. “i love you so much, more than anything.” he responds, never ending his onslaught of kisses.

taehyung doesn’t soften inside you, making another wave of neediness wash over your body. he loved you, he loved you just as you did with him. the kisses become sweeter and sweeter, like the finest honey against your tongue and you smile against taehyung’s lips as he lifts you into his arms. “you love me.” it’s more of a statement than a question, but taehyung answers regardless, brushing strands of hair away from your face.

“i will always love you, beyond my dying breath.”

the dragon scoops you up, carrying you to a nearby tree and leaning back against it, refusing to put you down despite your giggles and protests. you notice, from over his shoulder that moon lillies grow in place of the spot you made love in. “what’s that?” you ask quietly, as taehyung sits, turning you around gently in his lap and barely lifting you from his cock.

he watches darkly as only small traces of his charcoal black cum seep from your cunt before he follows your gaze to the flowers. “those, moon lillies appear when a dragon has found his or her mate, in place of where they have mates for the first time.” he mumbles shyly, hiding his face in your neck and kissing the back of your shoulder.

“let’s... let’s make more,” you whisper and admire the flowers that act as a symbol of your love. although your thighs still shake from your last two releases, you pull your hips forward and drag them back against taehyung’s lap, twitching around his length from the overstimulation. your turn your head to face the dragon prince from over your shoulder, watching as his chest heaves with pleasure. “make love to me, dragon king. make love to your queen.”

taehyung’s hips twitch at your words, the ghost of his fingertips settling on your hips before gripping them harshly, helping to move you back and forth against his cock. “as you wish my queen,” he mumbles, starting to move his own hips in time with yours. “you’re going to be the death of me, love.”

taehyung bites down harshly on your shoulder as you begin to mewl, lifting yourself off of your cock and slamming your hips back down. the spines on taehyung’s cock stimulate your spasming, cum soaked walls, catching on each ridge and causing you to shiver. the forest is once more filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin, and a mixture of lost words and moans and ‘i love you’s. you are lost with taehyung, in a world of your own as he claims your cunt over and over again with each thrust.

you circle your hips, clenching around the thick cock that stretches you open and gasp when one of taehyung’s heads slip out from your tight core. biting your lip, you take a finger and coat it in the remainder of your last orgasms and smear it against taehyung’s tip, thumbing it hardly. the prince groans, hips stuttering as he lets out a loud moan, thrusting into you at a faster pace and circling himself inside of you. “princess, please...fuck me.”

“forever, my sweet.” you whisper, slapping the head against your cock before pushing it back into your entrance. you rock yourself back and forth, tears of pleasure stinging the corners of your eyes as your sensitive pussy pulses with want. you know, you will not last as long as the previous rounds, indicated by your throbbing clit and collapse forward against taehyung’s legs. the dragon takes this as an opportunity to slap his palm against your bare ass, watching the flesh jiggle at the contact.

you squeal at the spank, sinking your fingers into the grass as taehyung repeats his ministrations on each of your cheeks. his cock swells with every desperate moan that passes from your lips, stretching your tight cunt open to accommodate for his cum. he wants to breed you, fuck you full of all of his dragon seed and watch your stomach swell at the heavy load. he wants you to have his children. with new found motivation and his orgasm closing in on him, taehyung grabs your hips and forces them down against his cock, slamming into you every time you come down against him. your abused hole drips with newfound wetness and remainders of taehyung’s hot seed as he pushes it further inside of you.

the pace is wild, and heat flares up between you both as your bodies move together completely uncontrolled. “m gonna cum again...” you gasp as you feel taehyung pound repeatedly into your g-spot. “please, please fill me up.”

“gonna cum with you princess, gonna breed you with my dragon pups,” taehyung practically whimpers, mumbling an i love you into the air. “gonna fill you up and fuck my cum deep inside you.” he rambles now as his thrusts become erratic. having his length nuzzled inside of you is what pushes taehyung over the edge, beating the feeling of endless hours of pleasuring himself during breeding seasons. he had never held or touched a woman in the way that he did with you. you were his first, and that was what made his heads fill you once more with a heavy load of his seed, shooting further into your cunt as you cream against him once more, pushing your hips down while his cum smears against your clit. “

“taehyungie!”

you collapse against the grass, panting shakily as taehyung pulls you into his arms again, turning to lay on his side as he pulls you into his chest. he doesn’t remove himself from your body, keeping himself inside you as more of the glowing blue flowers begin to bloom around you. taehyung’s hand settles on your belly as his arms wrap around your waist, rubbing it in circles while he kisses your hair. everything is perfect, just as it is meant to be. you’re in love with the man you had dared yourself to kill, but could now only find it in you to lay with him under the stars.

“i love you taehyung,” you say for the millionth time that night, drawing patterns into the hand that rests on your stomach. “i won’t ever love anyone else. i am yours and you are mine.”

“we are one, YN.” taehyung adds, sweetly, holding you closer as you feel yourself start to drift into a sweet slumber. “and i will love you forever.”

forever.

you smile at the word, placing his hand over his as you finally fall into sleep. you stay with taehyung, in forest for a night or two, loving each other under the moon.

“and you will see to it that the dragon is captured and killed, immediately?”

jungkook hesitates, a pause in the air at the prince’s request. when namjoon and the king had asked the young advisor to follow his queen out into the woods, he had never expected to see what he did. the nights where you would disappear for hours on end, coming home with scorch marks and ruffled hair all seemed to make sense now. you were with the dragon prince, the one who’s heart you had promised to capture. except, only you could not do it, you had been soft in the heart. a trait that lay with your deceased mother.

jungkook had seen you take round after round of the dragon’s cock, wishing that he could be in place of the beastly creature. he hated how that thing claimed you like he had been trying to for years, he despised how he fisted himself to orgasm behind the trees as he watched you cum for the dragon, moan for the dragon, love for the dragon. jungkook hated himself for betraying you due to his own jealousy, he wanted to see the dragon pay for what it had done to his queen, his love. and although, the advisor was unsure of what namjoon planned to do with the information, jungkook knew the least he could do was set you back on the right path.

he had already owed you this debt, in where he failed to warn you about namjoon. perhaps, he would make it up to you by freeing you from the dragon’s grip.

“jungkook...”

“yes my liege, we will send our best troops to their location and have him captured within the next week or so...” the boy explains, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles nervously. why does guilt rein free in his mind? he was doing what was best for you.

prince namjoon nods proudly, nodding his head and standing from his seat to leave the dining room. the prince had moved into the palace due to your absence over the last three days, presumably to take over rule as your father was too sick to do so. namjoon was brought in to have you wed before your father’s passing but the courts knew you were more than capable of doing so on your own.

they just hated to see a women in power.

“you are dismissed, jungkook.”

the young advisor nods his head gratefully, running a hand through his wavy locks and massaging his scalp to calm his guilt ridden mind. “what the fuck, jeon?” he mumbles to himself, starting walk back his quarters. he needed to be a lone, he needed time to convince himself that what he had done was right. jungkook could pretend that everything would be fine and maybe it would be.

he paces down the twisting and winding halls of the castle, chest squeezing as he begins to feel trapped within the walls and lies. jungkook doesn’t even hear the call of his name.

“jeongguk!” tamarae gasps, catching up to the young advisor. the boy freezes, the princess much resembled the queen before YN, her features her sloping and graceful and you could see shift in her eye colour of the light hit them just right. everyone had been in awe of tamarae since she was born, but she was no YN. he looks down at the girl, just a year younger than jungkook himself, and parts his lips to speak. they were aquatinted well, but never spoke more than a passing hello when YN was around.

but he never gets a chance to speak.

the princess’ hand falls sharply against his cheek, the connection is enough to send his head to the side. it is now, for the first time, that jungkook really looks at the young princess. her snow white hair is dishevelled and slightly out of place, dark eye bags beneath her usually glowing eyes and her skin has paled significantly. “how dare you?” tamarae seethes, stepping closer to jungkook and pointing a finger in his face. he flops guiltily, his actions coming to haunt him. “how dare you, give my sister’s location to that treacherous prince?”

“i’m doing what is in the best interest of our queen.”

tamarae opens her mouth in shock, casting a glance up and down jungkook’s frame before taking a breath to calm herself. “what would you know about her best interests?” she begins, now poking a thumb into the firm of the advisor’s chest. “she is happy there, out in the woods in her clearing. he makes her happy.” a breath, “— but you’re so foolishly and selfishly in love with her, you would do anything to make her love you back. well, jeon jungkook...now she will never.”

“tamarae, i—“

“and you slept with me, i let you wrestle me to bed in your quarters and make a woman of me,” the princess starts to feel tears form in her eyes, breath becoming shaky and anger rising within her chest. “just so...so you could find where she is. i didn’t tell you, for you to hurt her. i told you because you’re her best friend...”

jungkook is left, trembling with guilt as the princess turns away and heads back in the direction she came.

he was desperately in love with you, but was too blind to see the love he was given too.

the feeling beneath taehyung’s skin is nothing like he has ever felt before. it’s a bristling pain that jabs at his flesh, pinches at his every fibre and burning away at his heart.

it hurts, it pains him and he doesn’t know why.

the servants strip him of his shirt, sweat licking his honey dipped abs as they douse him with cold spurts of water but nothing helps and the pain doesn’t cease. one places a stick between his teeth for him to clamp down on as they rub at his skin, trying to massage the pain away. instead the supposed, soothing feeling is replaced by a thousand small stabs to his flesh, almost to the point where tears pool in his ocean eyes.

the double doors to his bedroom open suddenly, Queen elantris making an entrance as maids and servants alike withdraw from the heaving prince. his stares over at his mother as she dismisses all other personnel in the room, dropping his head back into his tangled sheets while he pants, eyes falling shut.

“mother...”

“shh, my boy, you are in a lot of pain,” elantris hums quietly, brushing her son’s curled charcoal locks from his paling face. the prince whines like a young dragon pup, the hurt becoming too much to bare. elantris looks down at her child, seizing the moment to rub a cooling herb mix against his chest, despite the growls and roars that emit from taehyung’s lips. she coos at him gently, once she’s done, whispering sweet words into his hair as he shivers in a cold sweat. the dragon queen had seen this once before, never as severe. her child was sick with a deep poison, known as love.

“what’s happening to me?”

the tone of fear rings in taehyung’s voice as he roars, scales reappearing across his skin and eyes darkening into their golden state. his mother leans down and noses taehyung’s cheek, trying to ease him through the pain and coaches him through it despite the groans he lets out.

“you’ve imprinted, my love,” elantris whispers, linking their hands. “you’re in love, taehyung, with that human girl.”

the boy gasps through his pain, feeling like a pup being caught stealing from the kitchen like when he was young. taehyung had known that he had always felt strongly towards you, felt strongly for the way your eyes sparkled under the moon and the way your smile shone brightly whenever the dragon had a new trick to show you. taehyung had known, all along, that he was in love with you. “how, how did you know?”

“i could smell her on you, taehyung,” elantris chuckles and releases her child’s hand, helping him to sit. “i may be old but i am not a fool. you have learned to forgive, unlike those of our ancestors. you must go to her, the girl and the closer you are to her, the less pain you will be in.” she hums. “you just go to her.”

the prince stretches his limbs, a cool slick sliding over his skin. “i will, i love her.”

the clearing.

when you thought of the clearing, you thought of happiness and love. your love, with taehyung that bloomed solely under the night of the stars but another that grew strongly inside of you. the news you had for taehyung sent a series of fire works bursting in your chest, coursing through your veins— this could be it, could be what could end all the suffering and consequences, letting yourself and your prince be together.

the familiar sent of sweet moon lily fills your nostrils, easing your nerves as you approach the clearing, your love. the sky is clear above your head, milky pink like the roses your mother used to weave into your hair. you like to believe, that she would be excited for you, looking down at you from the constellations above with joy. this was not always your plan, but you would not let this get in your way of becoming queen.

you take care with your steps, unlike times before this, wearing your traditional warrior fit makes the journey easier. you want to be careful and prevent any harm to what is to come — but suddenly, the air around you feels different, thick with smoke and heavy with an eerie vibe. something is off, something is wrong.

peeking through the leaves you spot several men, heavily armed with swords and arrows, in a uniform you do not recognise. upon closer inspection— you notice the emblem on the crest of a soldier from your kingdom . these are your people, men from your army.

in your clearing.

rushing forward, you burst from the trees and slap a hand over your mouth at the site. the dragon prince, fully shifted into his beautiful dragon transformation is hooked to the ground with thick metal chains that rub at his skin. taehyung roars, in pain, in fear, you cannot tell and panic begins to rise in your chest, clawing at your throat and tearing at your insides.

they had found him.

the beast sniffs the air once, twice, the bones in his back cracking as he fights to stand—pulling the men that held him back, off of the ground. yellowed eyes tilt towards you, barely hidden in your precious spot as the prince tries to rip free and expose you. he could sense your presence, your emotions and desperately needed to be with you, he needed you to know about the imprint.

but before taehyung can reach you, a guard calls and has you on your knees in a second, many others spearing your lover to get him under control. tears sting in your eyes as the first drops of his blood hit the pure grass beneath your knees, where you had made love for the first time, where you were supposed to be safe.

“taehyung!” you scream, attempting to rip yourself away from the men, your men... that hold you down. it’s almost as if you can feel every pierce of taehyung’s flesh as he roars out for you. yanking your arm free, you attempt to stand, but your pathway is blocked by a pair of black boots and a talk slender figure. your wobbling lip turns to a sneer, gaze darkening as you look to him. “you...”

namjoon smirks, kneeling down to your height as your own men hold you down. “hello, my queen,” he hums, eyeing your sweat streaked face and angry expression. the man lifts your chin with his forefinger, tilting your head to look up at you. taehyung’s chest rumbles possessively as the latter male’s hands slip to clip your jaw tightly. “you seem to be right on time, love. you’re about to witness the true harvesting of a dragon heart.”

a flare of outrage ignites in your chest as you lunge forward, biting at namjoon’s finger so hard that you draw blood, while vexed tears cloud your vision. the pink haired prince pulls back, holding his hand tightly in pain. “unhand me.” you breathe heavily, staring up at the men beside you, holding you down and betraying you. “unhand me by order of your princess.” you muster up a stern expression, although your lip wobbles and your eyes water as the pain of your lover courses through your veins. you had not known it was possible to feel so connected, so in tune with someone before. but you understood now, that this was love. love was not your mother and father arguing during nights, where hoseok would cover yourself and your sister’s ears, love was not tolerating and suppressing your bitter hatred for your father. love was not war. love was taehyung.

the men look to namjoon for guidance as you thrash within their grip, he simply shakes out his wounded hand and stalking towards you, before landing a harsh slap across your face. your head whips to the side, your chest heaving in shock while your lover growls in the distance.

“i’m afraid they cannot do that your highness,” namjoon spits, pushing you down into the soil. you clutch at your stomach protectively, glowering at the prince. “you father has handed all authority over to me, after your absence for the last two nights. the court has ruled you, unfit to rule until we marry.”

the prince then turns to the dragon, signalling for his minions to tighten the chains around taehyung. “and he shall be executed in consequence of your action. for imprinting on our queen, like the filthy creature he is.”

it feels like your world is collapsing, and you are falling underneath the surface. but you cannot give in, you cannot give namjoon the satisfaction of your favour without a fight. you cannot lose taehyung. you close your eyes and swallow thickly, remembering what your mother had instilled in you. every battle has a way to be won.

“unhand me,” you repeat, steadying your breath. “and i will go with you willingly.” namjoon only chuckles deeply, shaking his head so you take action. ripping yourself from the men behind you, you kick your leg out and take the men down by swipe their feet out from underneath them. elbowing a soldier in the nose and snatching your sword from its sheath, burying it in the chests of two traitors. rolling your shoulders back, you kick down two more men and stay light on your toes.

you aim for the prince next.

taking a running sprint, you thrust your sword towards him, barely slicing his cheek as you pant heavily. “release the dragon, and i will spare you,” you seethe through gritted teeth, watching your wounded lover from over namjoon’s shoulder. “don’t be a foolish man, my prince.” you mock, venomously.

“i see that carrying a child has softened your mindset, princess YN,” namjoon comments softly, pushing the blade away from his throat. how could he know? who could have told him? your confident demeanour falters slightly, but you do not allow yourself to slip, holding up your blade again. “the castle maids talk, you show early signs. disgraceful, how you are willing to bare the child of the beast that killed your mother—“ the prince remains cool and collected whilst your resolve starts to crumble, he wins. taehyung wails for you in the background, weakening as you begin to shake. “you will marry me, tomorrow at sunset if you wish for child to be speared. i feel no remorse for ending two lives tonight.”

the world around you begins to spin lightly, taehyung calling for you to stay strong. namjoon had won, he had you exactly where he wanted you, and there was nothing more you could do. “very well,” you whisper, dropping your gaze along with your mothers sword. “we shall be wed.”

you had never been to a wedding, if you had, you may have been too young to remember. sometimes, if you were lucky enough to hear, your mother would tell you of her own, her white dress and wolf furs, her pearl crown imported from across the sea. when she explained to you, brushing your hair and tying it neatly before bed, she had never smiled, never grinned at the thought of a royal feast. her face had always been void.

you now, realise why.

today you would marry, to a man you bared no feelings for. today you would marry out of duty and out of the love you had for someone else. you realise, being older and less naive, that your mother, the queen— married your father as a debt to her kingdom.

“you look beautiful, YN...” your sister offered, taking over for the maid in weaving flowers into your hair. orchids. the national flower of namjoon’s kingdom. the smell was too sweet, sickly to the point where you felt you would heave. they were everywhere, in your hair and your bouquet, in gifts given by royals from other kingdoms— you hated it. a constant reminder of what you had to lose. tamarae notes your silence, stopping her hands that move to fix hair that has already been tucked into place. “please, say something...”

you blink twice in response, parting your lips as if the words will come on their own — but you’re hollow inside, a ghost of who you once were. there were no more tears to cry, or screams to let out. all of those had passed in the cold night, when your sister held you as you cried because your child would grow without the father they needed. because you were going to lose your love. tamarae sinks to her knees before you, creasing the sweet powder blue dress that she wore. her hand take yours, squeezing it gently as if to remind you that you’re still a person, you still feel.

“you don’t have to do this,” she whispers hoarsely, white hair falling over her face to shield her from the world. her bottom lip trembles as tears slip down her cheeks— she had lost her mother, her brother and now her sister. what more could she lose? “you don’t have to...”

for the first time in hours, you make a movement...your face twitches into a sad smile as you cup your sister’s cheeks and hold her close. tamarae’s face finds the tule of your wedding dress, trying her best not to stain the expensive fabric imported from namjoon’s kingdom, not that you cared much for it. “i have to, for you and for the people. our people. they have lost faith in me, and they need me—“ you swallow sharply, no more tears. “they need me to show them i care for our people, i care for this war...”

“i don’t want to lose you...”

“you won’t.”

the door bursts open, yourself and your sister jumping apart at the sudden entrance. jungkook inhales deeply, eyes flickering between the two princesses before tamarae scoffs and parts ways with you but not before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

she shoves past the boy, maids flurrying after her, leaving yourself and the advisor alone. he is the first to speak. “YN, my queen, you’re stunning-“

“no,” you interject, looking up at your old friend, coldly. “don’t speak. you don’t get to speak today or i’ll have you executed for treason.” you punctuate your every word, begging yourself to keep it together because if you cry now, jungkook will be the only one to comfort you. your best friend, the man who betrayed you, silences himself, before it’s too late. “you don’t get to say a word, not after what you did to me. not after betraying my trust.”

“YN, i-“

“please,” you hiccup this time, the air in your lungs being sucked away from you with every passing second. jungkook is here to walk you down the isle, towards the man that will only abuse his power of you and your people. jungkook is the reason you are walking this path. “please don’t say anymore. have you not said enough? given away my secrets, out of love you say?” jungkook falters, every fibre in his being screaming out at him to comfort you, but his love for you did this, he destroyed the strong girl he once knew. “then your love is truly misplaced- i have loved you, jeongguk...but only ever as a friend. you used that against my sister, which i truly cannot forgive. so please do not say anymore than you must, for your words only ever hurt us.”

jungkook bites his lip and nods, offering his arm to you to lead you down to the ceremony. he watches you with sad eyes, but a kind smile, sighing heavily when you return his with a watery one.

if he had not loved you, this would not have happened. if he had not loved you, he would still have his friend.

the sun is coloured a shade of honey, ribbons of its light casting a warm hue against your skin. sunsets like this are rare, beautiful and not to be taken for granted— they remind you of sweet days with taehyung, his curled hair buried in your neck and his soft giggle filling the air. sunsets reminded you of your love for taehyung.

you watch the sun dip it’s toes into the navy blue of the water, just behind the prince’s head at the end of the isle. namjoon had wanted a wedding by the sea, with enough room for all of your people along with visitors from kingdoms far away. he wanted sea air and a fresh breeze, he wanted open waters, clear enough to see the dye of taehyung’s blood when he executed the dragon prince after the ceremony. he wanted it all, and you wanted to escape. your stomach twists and turns, as the orchestra begin to strum a wedding tune. this isle was not a path to happiness, but one to your death.

to the people of your kingdom, saw you as a beautiful bride but you saw yourself as a ghost of a human being. jungkook holds you by the arm, steadying your steps as he walks you towards your doom, your own funeral. your own father couldn’t even give you away, too drunk to even stand. you scowl at him as you pass his pew, accompanied by your sweet sister.

if you had it your way, it would be taehyung at the end of the isle, dressed in his kingdom’s traditional fits as he gave you that toothy grin. his eyes would light up as your brother gave you away, and your mother’s light shined on you from above. taehyung would take your hand firmly in his, slip on the ring and tell you how much he loved you. the dress that you wore would be off at the end of the night, as you made love to one another. but now, here you were, reaching the dreaded prince namjoon, as he smirked at you greasily.

jungkook gave you a tight, apologetic squeeze before handing you over to namjoon, shielding his face once he joined the rest of the crowd. your gaze slowly shifts to namjoon, hating the way he looked at you, when the ground beneath your feet starts to shake and you hear the pained cry of your love. “taehyung...” you whisper, standing on your tip toes to find him. over the shoulder of the prince, you spot the dragon shivering from pain behind the alter.

he spasms in his chains, wrists red and sore whilst purple bruises litter his tanned honey skin. he whimpers our for you, causing tears to well in your eyes. all you can do is watch helplessly as the dragon steadies his laboured breathing. small tears slip down your cheeks, streaming through the layers of make up that you wore— the pink haired prince lowers his lips to your ear level. “take a good look, my princess, for this will be the last chance you will ever get.” the prince chuckles, pouting at you mockingly.

with watery eyes, you glance back at the dragon prince, watching as he falls weak at namjoon’s proximity to his imprint. the injuries taehyung sustained over the time had weakened his dragon transformation, the scales that patched his skin were becoming dull as he bled from wounds here and there. the only way for him to heal would be to be near you again.

sucking in a deep breath, you blink away the oncoming tears and replace them with a bright smile. smile for the people, smile for your family. “of course, my king,” you say with wobbling words. be strong, you chant.

the ceremony begins with namjoon’s consent, rushing by with your mind focused on your lover. he’s hurting, in pain and all you want to do his hold him, ease him through it all. you cannot focus, sick to the stomach of what is to come, will you live out the same fate as your mother? bare beautiful children from the seed of a hateful man. will he ruin your kingdom? what your mother had worked hard to build? this couldn’t be your legacy.

“and do you, princess YN LN of the Phantis empire, take prince namjoon of the Kevimore kingdom— to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health...as long as you both shall live?” the minister’s words fly over your head, your mouth suddenly feeling dry and the air in your lungs no longer present.

namjoon leans down to whisper into your ear, warningly. “YN...”

“i-“ you hesitate, saying yes would mean taehyung would be executed sooner and you couldn’t bare to lose the only love you’ve ever had. namjoon’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you into him, causing taehyung to fall to his knees behind your shoulder, ocean eyes full of tears. he can’t lose his soulmate, not now, not ever. “i’m...”

the words formulate on your lips, the pressure weighing down on your shoulders.

“stop the wedding!”

you clutch at your chest, relief flooding through you as the crowd turns their attention to the oncoming voice. an armoured soldier and his men, enter the ceremony eliciting gasps and stares of the congregation, you take the opportunity to slip from namjoon’s slimy grip, while they create a distraction.

“who do you think you are?” namjoon scowls, stepping forward and pointing an accusing finger at the intruder. “interrupting an officiated ceremony, what authority do you have over a drunken king and his weak daughter?”

the soldier dismounts from his horse, stepping forward to the middle of the isle and removes his helmet— revealing the similar sloped and heart shaped features of your elder brother. “hoseok,” tamarae calls, stealing the words from your very lips. you watch as your younger sister rushes into his arms, the reunion warming your numbed heart.

the red heard clutches your sibling close, pressing a kiss to her hair in a protective fashion before glaring daggers into namjoon. if looks could kill the prince would be five miles under. the soldier’s namjoon has under his rein, bend the knee to their rightful prince, giving you time to make a dash for taehyung before he collapses to his side.

“prince hoseok... what—what are you doing here?”

the man in question raises a brow, ordering his men to take namjoon into custody. “the war is over, with word of my sister’s union with dragon prince-“ hoseok nods his head over to you, smirking as the latter male is brought to his knees in front of the entire court. “— spread across the battle field, man and mythical creature alike have found a way to bring peace,” the eldest sibling makes his way toward the pink haired prince and drawing his sword up to the other’s chin. “and next time...you will think twice before treating my sister, thinking you have power over us all. she is stronger and a much better leader than you will ever be. so stand, take your men and leave before i have your head.”

namjoon nods vigorously, clearing himself and the ceremony up as you sniff thankfully, turning your attention to the dragon prince. as soon as you hold him in your arms, taehyung collapses, barely breathing as you come into his field of view. his perfect lips are dry and slightly cut, a gash along his brow that will surely scar and purple, burgundy bruises just under his ribs where his wings would be. he looks bad, but your dragon has never looked better. “t-tae...my love, it’s okay..hold on for me, please?” you whisper, brushing his hair back as his eyes flutter open and closed. “please don’t go, don’t leave me now...”

the dragon prince open and closes his mouth, head rolling as you move it into your lap. biting back tears, you brush your curls through his now silver locks, faded from the pain most likely. “don’t leave us, taehyung. don’t you dare.” you add, hoseok ordering servants and men to help give you the medical help that you. you can’t bare to part from your love now, chest heaving with your cries as the dragon slips in and out of consciousness.

“you’re with a child...” he manages to mumble, gripping your hand tightly as his lips form a slight smile. “i could never leave my soulmate, my imprint behind.”

your heart lifts, taehyung had told you tales of imprints only once— when his mother and father met, they couldn’t stand to be away from one another... in far too much pain. the story helped you believe in love. an imprint is when a dragon finds their mate, their one true love...and taehyung had found that in you.

“i love you, taehyung.”

“and i, love you.”

you let go of his hand, allowing hoseok’s men to whisk your dragon prince away before going to reunite with your siblings. pulling off your veil, you open your arms to join hoseok and tamarae’s hug, nuzzling into them. “we’ll be okay, right?” your little sister asks, nearing tears. this would be the first time, the three of you have held each other since hoseok left for war.

“we will be,” your brother promises, kissing your hair sweetly. “we always will be.”

a year later, you find yourself dressed in another gown. the same fabric as your mother’s from her own coronation, emerald green silk made by those in the village embroiled with crystals from the caves of taehyung’s very own kingdom. your smile shines brightly as your younger sister fixes your hair around the crown you wear, diamond encrusted, silver plated, like the one your mother was. “sister, if you don’t stop moving, you’re going to miss your presentation to the public,” tamarae scolds you, stepping back when she’s finished with her work. “as queen.”

“queen— that does sound delightful, don’t you think?” you tease, touching at your makeup gently before snaking your lips. tamarae rolls her eyes and pushes your shoulder gently, mumbling something about seeing you out there. over the course of the year, your father had stepped down from his position in the court allowing you to take the lead on your path to queen while you and taehyung reunified the human and magic worlds. after he recovered, you married taehyung in the dead of the night, under the stars in his kingdom, with blessing from his mother and today, you had finally been coronated as queen.

“incoming!” a voice called, bringing a babbling baby into the room. your smile widened as jimin, the Phoenix and taehyung’s most trusted advisor stepped in, bringing over your daughter of three months. “taehyung is being dressed at the moment, hoseok is doing a cover of the grounds and jungkook,” jimin lists— adjusting cahira, your baby, in your arms. her name meaning, warrior. “he’s setting up things out front on the balcony.”

“thank you, jimin,” you nod, bouncing your sweet girl before dismissing your husband’s advisor.

after namjoon was punished for an attempt at overthrow, you managed to salvage your friendship with jungkook, only to the distain of your husband (it took several growling matches and attempts to calm him down before he let your advisor anywhere near you). but nonetheless, you couldn’t help but turn to mush as you watched over your baby, cahira’s eyes were large and bright like yours, taking on the blue colour of taehyung’s. her black hair was curled, with a patch of white from your mother’s side. her nose was most definitely yours, however. taehyung said that from her early months, it was impossible to tell whether she would show traits of a dragon or not, you would have to wait until her first tooth to see.

but you knew, just by looking at your young princess— she was made to be a queen, just like you and her grandmother before you.

“i love the way you look at her, like she is all that there is to the world,” your king grins from the doorway, moving over and bending down slightly to play with his daughter’s tiny hands. it truly is a sight to see, a large and mighty beast, cooing at his tiny baby girl. “hi there, cahira...it’s your daddy!” you sweep over your husband, taking in his floppy hair and his tight fitting black blazer that’s spiralled with silver patterns to match your dress. the ash haired dragon preens happily, primal instincts kicking in while he occupies himself with his daughter on your hip, before looking up at you through the curtain of his hair. “and i must say, i do enjoy the way you look at me as well.”

shaking your head, you lean down to meet taehyung’s sweet lips, wiping the small smirk off of his face,” a look of adoration, for the people i love most in this world.” you say, standing straight as your lover takes you into his arms, mindful of the giggling baby between you. “i am happy like this, with you.”

“i am happy with you, completely and utterly in love with you, and my daughter,” taehyung whispers into your hair, kissing it. “we ended the war, and finally received the happy ending that we deserved.” you stand in the middle of the throne room, just off of the balcony, listening to the chants and calls of your people— both yours and taehyung’s, in the distance. the war had been ended, your love had united the people and your people finally brought together.

your maids enter the room, opening the doors to the balcony as jungkook comes through to salute you. taehyung separates from you, lacing your fingers together— allowing you to catch glimpse of the wedding rings you both wore. together, for an eternity.

“ready to face the world, my love?” taehyung asks, taking cahira from your arms and settling her on his hip. “my queen?”

you stand on your tiptoes, adjusting the matching crown on his head. you thought that you would never rule with a man by your side, and you didn’t need one. but taehyung would never take away from you as a woman, you were his queen and you always would be. you smile brightly, squeezing his palm and nod. “with you, i always will be.” you answer, taking his hand and stepping out towards your future.

you had once wanted to hold a dragon’s heart, little did you know, he would be holding yours instead.

⇢ author’s note(s): hi everyone! thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this fic, i think im most proud of this project and so, in the future im thinking of doing some kind of spin off seires/drabble collection, let me know what you guys think? feedback is always appreciated :D

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years ago

Text

Melting Ice and Warmth and Words

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Teba x Saki, 8505 Words

I made this fic for @zzariyo for my server’s gift exchange event! Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun with it :3

In which Harth is the gay best friend(TM), Teba is a god damn fool, and I become a lesbian for Saki. Also this was slightly based on a post about how Saki threatens Teba with a sword.

This is the tumblr version but check it out on AO3 if you prefer

- - - - - - - - - -

"Historians probably hate you," Harth mumbled, as he tested the weight of his bow. "This is, what, the third time you've stolen priceless artifacts?"

Teba continued flipping through the pages. The sound of rustling parchment melded with the crackling fire behind him. A soothing mix of leather and pine aromas filled the Flight Range.

"It's not stealing if no one knows it exists," Teba countered, not bothering to look up.

"Yet."

He shrugged. "Yet."

Another sigh filled the air, and the two of them went back to their respective preparations. Harth set down his Swallow Bow and went to fill up two sets of quivers, while Teba continued poring through the personal history of a dead Champion.

It had been a day or two since he had found yet another artifact from a century ago. The depths of the Flight Range, and the expanse of the not-so-well-kept records in the library hid all too many secrets, to which Teba had taken full advantage.

This journal was worn, cracked smoky leather showing its fragile age. Although in comparison to its two predecessors—Revali's Diary and The Great Revali's Diary respectively—this journal was in much better condition. Other than by the contents of the pages itself, Teba had discovered you could decipher the chronological order of the diaries based on how sophisticated the titles were. The more extravagant ones being more recent, that is.

The warrior let out a huff after perusing through another paragraph of dark, cursive writing. He continued digging through the pages with an aura of frustration. Harth, ever one to press his buttons, glanced back.

"So if you don't plan to inform everyone else about your latest finding, yet, what exactly are you doing with it now?"

Another turn of the page. "The same thing I've done before. Searching for clues."

A smirk formed on Harth's face. "Hm. You know these days it's hard for you to read a cookbook properly without help."

"Shut up will you, I'm trying to focus."

A shrug, and then a beat of silence; the two of them basked for a moment in the piercing wind that cut through the Flight Range. The flickering shadows cast by the fire only served to add to the almost haunting beauty that tonight brought. The chilling midnight moon was a barely distinguishable sliver, white against white in the brewing storm. Teba could only long for the soft hammock of his home. Although, it's not like he would be relaxing anyway.

Nearly all hours of the day, if he wasn't practicing with his bow, he was poring through a damn book. It definitely wasn't out of a passion for reading, but more of a desire to spite his superiors.

Elder Kaneli had yakked his beak off about how the "bow of Champion Revali is our last physical connection to our valuable history" and thus was not to be taken out of its chest, ever. So there went Teba's dreams of dissecting it and constructing a masterful bow of his own.

Kaneli had said that a "young Rito like yourself shouldn't spend so much time out in the cold." So there went Teba's desire to devote himself to archery, shackled by the Flight Range's new "curfew," which was essentially a bedtime.

And, years ago, after a teenage Teba had found the very first diary of the Rito Champion, showing it off to the respected elder as quick as he could, Kaneli had beamed in his rocking chair and said, "Oh hoo! We shall get to storing it immediately!" So there went Teba's achievement, gathering dust in a box for a good three weeks before he had just decided to start sneaking into the records at night to pore through it. "Preserve the paper's integrity" his ass, he knew the librarian just hated him for that time his makeshift bomb arrow had caused her tail feathers to smell burnt for a month.

At nearly every turn, there was always something that hindered Teba's progress towards getting clues about how to master Revali's Gale. If that wasn't enough, Kaneli had been nagging him more and more lately about settling down and relaxing. Just a few years ago, Kaneli had been all about training him to be a mighty warrior, but nowadays the elder just couldn't seem to shut up about "exploring new pastimes!"

So here he was, with his new pastime. Reading, like the thrilling warrior he was.

Teba rolled his eyes after skimming through another paragraph. He hurriedly turned through a few more pages, the rustling parchment catching Harth's eye once again.

"So how's the research going? Is it just brimming with inspiring details about how to command the wind?"

Teba chuckled, although there was clear bitterness in the tone. He held up and flipped the journal around, so that Harth could read the contents written within.

"You tell me..."

~The Eighth of Nayru's Moon~

Once again, that little knight has failed to so much as acknowledge my presence. He probably wouldn't know charisma and impeccable skill if it was shoved right into his perfect face— and goddess believe me, I have tried as such.

Just today, I was— formerly assumed alone— at the Flight Range, practicing my Gale, when from the corner of my eye I saw him watching me. His face, an unfortunate yet predictable bland block of carving wood. Even after witnessing my masterful abilities? HA! His dead gaze borders on blindness.

To think, the King is looking to appoint him as the princess' personal guard. I should think someone as unperceptive as he would do better as a cleaning maid. Forget the quick instincts of battle, I'm sure he'd be dead in an instant. He just blankly looks and looks, and stares and stares. All he ever does is stare at me, unassuming... with those striking blue eyes of his.

Too striking. Distracting even. If he dares show his stupid, atrociously awful face at my Flight Range again, I might just have to nip his poorly drawn bowstring myself. Followed by a legendary duel to the death, of course.

Then again, if he for some reason stops by tomorrow, I wouldn't mind that much.

Harth leaned back and gave Teba a smirk. "So, that's a no on the Gale research then?"

Teba let out another huff, snapping the book closed and getting on his feet. "Nothing but boy troubles in this one. He has to have kept more entries out there that could actually be useful to me."

Fiddling with an arrow shaft in one wing, Harth went back to filling the quivers. He let out a laugh. "Ah, I'm sure it's not all useless! At least now you know you're not the only Rito in history who's terrible at flirting."

A scoff. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That was literally about as straightforward as I could have been with this topic."

"Well do me straighter."

Harth proceeded to have a coughing fit for five minutes.

The sounds of wheezing laughter and less than polite comments from Teba echoed through the Flight Range.

"Hylia, I may not be looking for a wife, but I hope one day I adopt or something just so I can tell my grandkids how much of an idiot you are," Harth finally said, at the end of their colorful banter. "But yes, thank you for proving my point. A Boko skull has a better grasp on charisma than you."

The warrior crossed his wings over his chest, looking away. "Well sorry that I've been focusing on my strengths rather than dabbling in immaturities."

"Remember when you were in the infirmary and you tried to tell that nurse, Saki," he snorted, "You tried to tell her she had nice posture–"

"Shut it. Shut it and quit your grinning before I shove you into the fire and use the arrows as kindling."

Another laugh echoes, and the most Teba can do is narrow his eyes. But after a beat, he perks up and looks back in his direction. "How do you know her name?"

Harth raised an eyebrow. "Saki? Well I don't know, she treated me during that Ice Talus accident a month back. I probably just asked for her name at some point, you know, like a normal person." He shook his head. "Spirits above, Teba, you've probably been in that infirmary more than I have. Have you really not gained the social skills to ask for someone's name?"

He stared at the very interesting and engaging wooden floor, shifting his weight between his legs. "I don't have to answer that."

"Oh, woe is you. Kaneli never gave you a pep talk about how to make friends?"

"HA! I think our conversational topics peaked in the days where he actually encouraged my archery training. Less 'pep talk,' more 'lecture,' nowadays."

"Alright, alright, save your daddy problems for breakfast, Teba."

Teba glowered much in the way a Lynel would to its soon-to-be-dead prey, feeding Harth's amusement.

"Anyhow, you needn't go so hard on the guy, he just doesn't want you to kill yourself, which is especially relevant tonight." He turned around and picked up the now fully stocked quivers. "Now that you've finally managed to tug your beak out of that book," he tossed one to the huffy bird, "Let's go slay some monsters."

Teba's earlier expression morphed into stern concentration, emotion dripping away in favour of a practiced warrior's focus. He grasped one of the arrows and inspected the tip. "Fire arrows? Wouldn't bomb arrows be more effective on monsters?" The night seemed to turn colder to match his more serious tone.

The charcoal feathered Rito slung his bow and quiver onto his back, speaking quickly as he worked. "Not necessarily. We want as much vision as we can, can't risk getting blind-sided by even one of its attacks. Explosions would give even more cover to an already invisible foe." He also mumbled something about how he barely had the income to afford them.

There was a moment of silence as Teba calculated and turned over Harth's words, before putting the pieces together. He gave a confident nod as confirmation.

"So… have you ever slain a Wizzrobe before?" Harth asked.

The warrior smirked to himself, turning towards the exit with bow and quiver. White against white as he stood on the snow covered landing.

"Not yet."

- - - - -

Thunderous sounds in a frozen tundra; it came after the ripple of footsteps.

Jaded peaks weathered grey, the sky couldn’t be distinguished from the land. The snow had pounded harder and harder as they flew, flurries coating the feathered fletchings on their arrows.

Harth landed first, walking around on the open, frigid expanse. Teba did a sweep of the surroundings from the air. Nothing.

The base of the Hebra Mountain Trail— just under the shadow of the South Summit— this was where the last attack was. Hopefully it was where the final one was too.

There had been three travelers total; two Rito, one Hylian merchant. Minor injuries. Most all ran away at the first sign of frostbite. It was normal for the occasional monster attack to come up every now and again, and it just wouldn’t be worth the resources to hunt down every Lizalfos and Bokoblin that happened upon some unfortunate soul. By the time anyone lives to tell the tale, the beast has probably already moved miles from where it was last seen. The Hebra wasn’t exactly the most accommodating of places to enjoy long term.

And so that was the excuse. Save the supplies for bigger threats. An Ice Talus, Hinox… Hylia forbid a Lynel. A Wizzrobe would probably be off dancing in the sunset by now, and thus, no warriors should waste supplies looking for an “unnecessary fight."

Teba remembered scoffing when he heard the news— a scoff apparently so spiteful, that it had earned him a rare glare from Kaneli.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Teba. You won’t be recklessly going off alone to find it, understand? I mean it!”

Teba perched on one of the cliffs, getting a clear view of Harth below, surrounded by white on white on white. Harth turned his head and gave a thumbs up in his direction.

Well, that was one half of the instructions followed. The “stupid” part is still up in the air, though.

Teba unslung his Falcon Bow from his back, resting a fire arrow on the bowstring’s serving. If someone were to look up at where he crouched, they would be greeted by a piercing golden gaze; a pair of cold suns that sent you shivering.

That was the intent, anyhow. A warrior with a gaze like fire. Like lightning, like metal, like suns, like steel. That’s what he’d been told in the past, so he might as well use it to his advantage.

Still… he remembered once how someone had compared them to honey.

“What?” He had been taken aback by the sudden observation.

“Or like butterscotch… I use it a lot when baking. Oh! I’ve seen gorgeous dandelions like it too.” The nurse—“Saki?” Did Harth say?—tended to the wound just below his eye. “You should be thankful the color is so pleasant, the sight is probably what caused that Moblin to miss its mark!” Saki smiled and for the first time, Teba understood what it meant to call something “the sun.”

“Make sure you don’t use those eyes of yours to go looking for more trouble. Or else…” She had narrowed her eyes playfully. Noticing him just staring at her in silence, she cocked her head to the side, curious.

“Sorry, was there something you wanted to say to me?”

Yeah, but I’m not sure what. All he could really notice at that moment was how relaxed her posture was around him. Usually, he was surrounded by his fellow rigid warriors, or the stance of someone that looked in his eyes and saw fire. So…she was a nice change of pace.

Too bad his communication skills could be trumped by a deflated octoballon. Teba's sigh manifested into a small white puff in the cold air. Nevermind that now.

He had to stay focused. Teba would cut no corners when it came to using Harth as bait. However, he couldn’t deny the somewhat pissy mood he was in. No Gale, no practice, no clues, no fights. Sooner or later the village might just strap him into a rocking chair and say it was for the best. What a joke… At least killing off a dangerous creature would help let off some steam— ice? Magic ice…water…arrows… fuck.

Teba rolled his eyes at his own incompetence. Can’t even be a decent wordsmith in my own head. Harth was right.

A sudden flash of movement and his mind immediately crashed back to reality. Eyes instantly trained back to the ash colored Rito on the ground, who had now turned and aimed his bow at the horizon. Not even a second after the movement was made, Teba had an arrow nocked and aimed in one practiced, fluid motion.

Harth had two arrows nocked, aiming towards an unseen target obscured in the haze of snow.

Black against the pale of midnight’s frigid sheet of snow. If Harth could see something, it would no doubt also see him. He stepped forward, Swallow Bow unwavering in the wind

Teba adjusted the draw of his bow, training its angle to match Harth’s movements and ready to release at a moments notice.

The crunch of talons on snow. A small patch of dead bushes just a few paces in front of Harth.

One step.

Two…

Suddenly, an arctic fox dashed to the right and disappeared into the snow.

A draining silence. Steady, freezing breaths condense into puffs of clouds out of Teba’s beak. There was still a knot of tension in his chest, but he could start to feel it ripple out, like a patter of footsteps as a mix of closed off fear and anxiety walked out the door. Still, he didn’t falter his draw. After a moment, he saw Harth put down his bow and sigh. The Rito turned towards Teba’s direction to give him a smile and a shrug.

Harth met his gaze.

Then, the expression on his face suddenly morphed into shock.

Teba didn’t think twice.

He snapped around and let gravity take him, loosing the already nocked flame. The hiss of fire flew and connected with its target with a satisfying crack! Midfall, he could hear Harth shout a much too late “Behind you!”

The fire arrow hit rock, crumbling stones clash against snow. The burst of flame roared like thunder on the cliffside. Although the creature wasn’t hit, the area of effect was still large enough to singe at the tips of cloth.

A pearly white robe that faded deathly blue. The glow of ice and dark silhouette. A shrill cry escaped from the Wizzrobe that had stood, wand in hand, behind Teba’s perch just seconds ago. Even in distress, it wore a chilling grin.

Bastard. You won’t get another chance.

Another flame nocked and loosed with lightning speed.

The creature laughed, as if in pity, and twirled in its step.

Gone.

Teba gave a flap of his wings to stop his momentum. His talons safely connected with the ground, and Harth was at his side at once.

“Are you alright!? Are you hit?!” Harth started to inspect his wing, but Teba continued staring at the sky, “S-Say something, dammit! Teba we need to—”

He held up a wing, the gesture with an unspoken tone of “shut it.” Teba readied another fire arrow and pointed into the air. He whispered.

“Listen…”

His eyes narrowed in concentration, trying to discern sounds from the muffle of wind. Harth pressed back and covered Teba’s blind spot, nocking an arrow of his own.

The wind was unaccompanied. The dead bushes shuddered a tempo.

And then the midnight sang.

Like the pleasant echo of a music box…a lullaby that seemed to twinkle against the brink of night and day. A ripple of footsteps. A sparkle to his left, skipping like stones, as if the wind was water. There was a faint laugh, but Teba was the one to smile.

Gotcha.

The Wizzrobe had barely manifested before the fire arrow flew. A burst of orange connected with its frail arm, and the creature shrieked. Harth quickly turned and fired his own shot, the arrow nearly lodging into its face, but arching low and hitting its torso instead. The Wizzrobe panicked while the two Rito went to reload.

“Go for the face!” Harth shouted as he went to grab two arrows from his quiver. “It’s the only part that’s not protected by that stupid magic robe!”

As if on cue, the Wizzrobe had started laughing to itself, its arms flailing wildly as the flames that engulfed its person suddenly disappeared. It gripped its Blizzard Rod in both hands, starting to twirl with a sickening grin.

Teba aimed for the sky. “Move!”

Harth shuffled back in obedience as fire soared. The arrow crashed into a giant sphere of ice that hurtled from the heavens, shattering into pieces just a few feet above their head.

The impact caused them both to fly backwards, the bow knocked out of Teba’s grip.

Hmm… fuck.

Teba crashed hard, tasting dirt and snow. Luckily Harth was able to get in position to fire an arrow.

Its arc through the air was cut short by multiple more icy spheres hurtling down around the Wizzrobe.

Harth cursed under his breath. While they were far enough away to avoid the barrage of ice magic that would no doubt freeze them with a single touch, it would be nearly impossible to get close enough for a kill. Teba picked himself up and crouched beside Harth.

“How much fire total?”

Harth shook his head and stared at the ground. “I was so concerned with not arousing suspicion…sneaking out to fight was one thing, but—”

“This is no time for regrets. How many fire arrows, dammit?”

Harth let out a huff. “I bought a bundle of five and split them between us. The last fifteen in each quiver are regular ones. Although at this angle I doubt they would be of any use.”

Teba’s eyes sat calculating for a moment. “So I’ve used two. One hit, one miss. And you—”

“I landed the third just earlier on its torso. The forth…” He turned in the direction of the shower of ice. He could see it smash against the wooden remnants of an arrow. “I used just now.”

Hylia forgive the less than polite words towards the spirits that Teba spoke.

Harth gave a nod towards Teba’s quiver, while handing him his Swallow Bow. “Here. I gave the extra to the best shot around. I’ll distract it while you make the last shot count.”

Teba scoffed. “You and I both know you can’t just adjust to a new bow on the fly and expect to be accur—”

“Well if you’ve got a better plan, I’m more than happy to hear it!”

Teba grimaced. Always life and its impossible instructions.

The warrior slung his quiver in front of him, indeed confirming the last fire arrow nestled between the regular ones. He took the Swallow Bow in hand and gave another glance towards the Wizzrobe.

Its earlier spell had stopped now, and it was now skipping all too happily towards them. The ripples of its chiming steps seemed to glow brighter and brighter as it approached.

Tsk. What a gloat. It’s not even bothering to sneak up on us anymore.

Harth gave a flap of his wings and hovered. “I’ll lure it near the base of the mountain trail, and you flank. Do what you must, it’s all you.” He took to the air and began taunting the Wizzrobe, attracting its attention.

Teba cursed. He harshly slung the quiver back around him while taking up the bow. In the motion, a journal dropped into the snow.

“Crap, the…” He trailed off, observing it for a moment. The words on the page it had opened up on caught his eye.

~The Twentieth of Starset Moon~

I hope a Wizzrobe carries me off before I see him again. I envy their magical ability to disappear from sight at a moment’s notice. Maybe then I wouldn’t embarrass myself so in front of Link.

I've always called my eyes a mere jade. A simple enough descriptive hue, and on occasion it would serve as a masterful segue into a pun about how the best warriors have a gaze that can pierce like stone. But no, he just had to call it, “grass.”

“Actually, I’m fairly certain that the hues of Hyrule’s earthly flora are much lighter than the color of my eyes.” I had said. “Like I previously stated. Jade, or emerald works. Jagged jade if you are akin to alliteration.”

Curse my arrogance as my response only caused him to elaborate. “It’s not just the color” he had said. “It’s like a sensation. I like just looking at fields. To lie in them, and smell, and be in comfort in the grass and outside.” He shrugged like nothing was wrong. “Your eyes give me that comfort.”

Hylia is a cruel goddess to curse us Rito to become round puffballs whenever emotions get the better of us. THANKFULLY, he didn’t notice as he then started to ramble on and on about his—slightly concerning—knowledge about the flammability of plants. How flaming weapons and flint produced different embers. How any fire arrow can become a bomb arrow with enough kindling. How you could tell the flammability of certain flora based on the shade of green. He noted how my own eyes were not the most flammable, so… there’s that compliment, I suppose.

There was a roar in the distance as ice crashed onto the earth. Teba snapped the journal shut again.

The Wizzrobe had cast another spell, a blur of charcoal feathers could be seen dodging the attacks.

Teba stood sifting through his thoughts as quickly as he could. Whatever power above had caused him to stumble upon this entry…he’d have to thank them later when he had the time and the faith.

The idea was obvious in hindsight. If he couldn’t guarantee a shot at a small target, then make the target bigger.

The warrior took the fire arrow in one wing, and the journal in the other. The diary was old and dry, and obviously it had a much bigger surface area than an arrow tip.

So he quickly took the very last fire arrow and pierced it through.

It burst into flames in an instant. It certainly wouldn’t pierce anything, but with the bigger area of impact…combined with a new reckless plan, there wouldn’t be any need to.

He smiled and took towards the air.

“Uhh, Teba???” Harth yelled as he saw his friend approach, flying closer with a flaming book arrow in his beak. “What are you— fuck! Ay! Over here, princess!” Harth tugged at the Wizzrobe’s robe, luring its face towards Teba.

He couldn’t talk with the arrow and piece of flaming historical documentation in his beak, but he cocked his head in such a way to signal to Harth to turn.

“But?! Its face!” A fierce shake of his head in response. “Dammit Teba!”

Harth soared around the creature in a semicircle, avoiding its bursts of ice that make the feathers on his neck puff. The Wizzrobe turned to wave its wand, it’s backside now exposed to Teba.

The warrior quickly unslung his quiver and threw the leather strap around its neck, the weight of the arrows falling on the other side towards its chin.

“TEBA WHAT THE FUCK!?”

The Wizzrobe halted its midair dance, turning in the direction that the new weight had come from. The Blizzard Rod was already starting to glow.

“That’s right!” Teba shouted, as he took the flaming book arrow out of his beak. “Show me that ugly grin of yours!”

He gave one last flap of his wings before letting gravity take him, nocking the arrow on the Swallow Bow. As predicted, he couldn’t fully compensate for the difference in the bow.

Its weight was all different, the string strength was all wrong, the grip was much more loose than he’d have preferred—

Through the haze of snow, and paper, and his own pale feathers, the Wizzrobe’s shining grin greeted Teba in full.

White on white.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Catch!”

The arrow loosed.

The flaming book seemed to soar in slow motion, or perhaps that was just on account of its weight. It arched high, nearly on path to connect with the creatures gleaming teeth, but the strength just wasn’t there and it bowed lower still to the Wizzrobe’s neck.

FWOOSH!

The journal was destroyed on impact, paper glowing and fluttering. The creatures’ attire was set alight, but all it did was laugh like it was an inconvenience. Like a party trick it had already gotten tired off. It started to try and pat itself down, but…

“Let’s see you laugh now, bastard.”

The quiver’s leather wouldn’t catch on its own given its natural resistance. But with the flutter of dried parchment…

All it took was one fiery page, and the arrows caught. The Wizzrobe suddenly suddenly shrieked, but the sound was muffled and cut off by sputtering and the sound of what Teba could only assume was suffocation. The bundle of arrows glowed like a campfire, the flames engulfing the creature's neck and already licking at its face. It attempted to remove the quiver wrapped around it with both arms, tossing the Blizzard Rod into the air in panic, but it was already too late.

The giant necklace of kindling roared in the Wizzrobe’s face, and in seconds, the icy beast was reduced to mist. The wind its grave, as the last of its magical robe rippled in the night.

Teba landed on the ground, eyes bright with unexpected happiness as he cheered.

“WOOOOO! Did you see that!?! I can’t believe that worked holy fucking shit, take THAT asshole.” He shouted into the air with a rare show of relief. THANK YOU Champion Revali and that Hylian knight arsonist! Gods, who knew reading would be so—”

“ROD!”

“Wh—” Teba turned in time to see Harth flapping towards him. But closer still, Teba saw the blur of the Blizzard Rod falling through the air, just seconds away from impacting the ground.

Hmm…

Gravity surely wouldn’t simulate the effects of waving a magic ice wand around, right?

SHING!

Fuck.

A burst of ice exploded from the rod’s impact, Harth slammed into Teba just as he could feel the cold travel to the tips of his wings.

The two Rito crashed into the snow, and Teba was able to taste the delicious flavours of snow, stone, and dirt for the second time. He propped himself up with a wing that was now faintly aching. He had a bit of a coughing fit, as Harth got up.

“Teba…” he trailed off, still in a bit of shock. “Wh…Where the hell’d you get a crazy idea like that from?”

The warrior had the strength to shrug with one shoulder. “New hobby?”

Harth playfully shoved Teba back into the snow as they both laughed.

Teba stared up at the frozen sky. It was already fading blue, the brink of night and day tipping towards a yet unseen sun.

That wasn’t so bad. Just a few arrows, a quiver, a book, and we’ve got justice for our village. If we hurry we can make it back before breakfast and Kaneli’s none the wiser.

Harth stood over him and offered a wing. “Alright, let’s go grab your bow and get out of here. I think I can feel my tail feathers freezing off.”

Teba shivered, reaching out to get up. “Yeah, no kidding. It’s almost like it—GUH!” He crumpled to his knees.

“Teba!” Harth propped up his back as he went to inspect him. He gasped when he saw his wing.

The black feather accents were laced with ice, the very tips of his wing were already starting to become glassy and stiff. Teba held back a yelp as he felt the ice grow further up his wing.

“Oh shitshitshit, that Blizzard Rod still got you.” Harth frantically went to remove a piece of cloth from his armour to wrap it around the ice. “Try to keep that warm. Uh. The mountain lodge is nearby, maybe we can get a blanket? Oh shitshitshit….”

Teba mumbled something incoherent as he felt the ice grow further.

“Guh… We can just keep this incident between us like planned, yeah? Kaneli is gonna be pissed that I blew up his quiver.’”

“Idiot! Get on my back, you could lose a wing!”

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I could probably still fly.”

“Your feathers are snapping off, fuckface!”

Harth tried to get Teba to stand, but stopped when he started to hiss in pain. The cold on his left wing was starting to course through his whole body, and he shivered.

“Ok, ok. Maybe it’ll warm up when I get in the air. I’ll just start flapping a lot to keep the blood flowing. That’s how that works, right?”

“At that rate, you’ll not only be brainless, but wingless too.” A sudden voice echoed.

The boys looked up to see a set of pink feathers descend from the air. Harth’s eyes glowed with both immense relief and confusion.

“Thank Hylia, Saki….wait, what are you doing here, I—”

“Shhhhh…” Saki took out a sword, causing further confusion and shock to come to the boys. “All you need to know for now is that I was by the Hebra Trailhead Lodge when I heard a commotion that I can only assume you two fools caused.” She tried to press the blade against the ice on Teba’s wing.

Teba’s eyes darted between Harth and Saki. The feathers nearly everywhere on him but his left wing started to puff up given how close she was. He could smell a mix of nutmeg and warm safflina from her.

“I…uh…” Teba was rapped in the head with the broad side of Saki’s sword. “Ah! Hey—”

“Don’t move, before I decide on amputation.” Both of the warrior’s eyes widened. “Just joking! Ahaha… for now anyway.” Her cute little chuckle echoed in the air.

Saki finally put down the blade. She shook her head, the curls of her hair bouncing above her shoulders. “It’s already too strong to scrape off.” Harth’s head was turning left and right above them, like a child trying to get a peak of the action. Digging through the satchel on her shoulder, Saki took out a few heads of sunshrooms.

“Hold these, we don’t want that ice magic seeping in any further. It can spread to the blood faster than you think.” Teba’s beak was still agape when he obliged.

The pink colored Rito gave him a soft smile as she tucked a wing under his neck. She expertly flipped the Feathered Edge in her wing, so that it’s blunt side was aimed at Teba,

“Now, if your muscles move and contract any more, it’s just gonna cause any of the ice inside there to snap, effectively paralyzing you. We need to make sure there's no chance of that happening.”

Saki leaned down and pressed her head against Teba’s for a moment, planting the Rito equivalent of a peck on the cheek. “Take that as my premature apology.” Saki said. And that was the last thing he heard before he saw the swing of the blade’s hilt and everything went black.

- - - - -

Teba awoke with the sun in his eyes. He blinked, adjusting his gaze before identifying a blur of pink feathers in front of him.

“—and no doubt they’ve discovered you’re missing by now if she hasn’t said anything already. I’d fly back myself to inform the elders, but…” She trailed off, fiddling with the bandage.

“I could do it. You’ve probably already got your plate full with—gah!” A broad side of a Feathered Edge whacked Harth’s head.

“No. You need to keep that cut warm and toasty and uninfected. This bind won’t hold in those strong winds, and we can’t have the Tabantha skies blowing dust and grime into it.” Saki used her blade to cut the excess bandage on Harth’s neck, to which he slightly gulped.

Teba tried to sit up from where he lay. The Hylian style bed creaked under his shifting, and he muttered something about missing hammocks.

Saki suddenly stood, eyes lighting up to see Teba. “Oh good! You’re awake, let’s see how you’re doing.” She rushed to hold his wing, to which his heart immediately jumped into his throat.

“Saki, I—” Teba attempted to be articulate, but was distracted by the tenderness of her touch, and the sudden sweet smell of nutmeg and vanilla in the air.

“Stop moving your wing, Teba.” Saki examined all sides of his wing with a practiced eye. “I made the elixir in time to counter any frostbite, but you should still rest for at least another hour to make sure all the ice inside is truly melted.”

He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. “You…remember my name?” It had been a few weeks since he had last seen her in the village infirmary. Usually he only saw the older doctors tending to patients.

“Well of course.” Saki cocked her head and gave him a warm smile. “I remember all my stupid patients.”

“Am I included?”

“Yes, Harth.”

“Nice.”

Teba’s eyes widened when she unsheathed her blade again. So much was happening so fast that surely if he wasn’t coddled in bed right now, he’d be snapping bones from the whiplash.

Saki held the metal near his wing. “The ice on your coat has softened by now, so I’ll just scrape it off,” Her blade gleamed with her bright smile. “Stay still!”

The warrior’s eyes continued to flicker between his wing, the blade, Saki, and Harth. Looking out the window, he saw the crisp blue sky glowing above a now serene and pleasant white snowfield.

“I don’t understand. Where…how long have….” He trailed off, but looked back at Saki. “What are you doing here?”

Saki stopped for a moment. “I…” Her shoulders sagged a bit as she paused. “Well…I know the elders said not to engage with the Wizzrobe incident. But…” She fixed her eyes on his wing.

“I’m a part of this village, and I care about its people. Those who are hurt, were hurt, or could be. I don’t like standing by when I could be helping.”

She looked back up and met his gaze. A pleasant blue that greeted the sun. “You understand, right? ‘We risk our lives everyday, might as well use it for something worthwhile.’ That’s the excuse you told me when I first met you.” She brushed a feather under one of his eyes. “Although, you were half unconscious, so I don’t blame you if you forgot. So anyhow! I stayed here in case any travelers came by with wounds or injuries. Keeps my heart at ease rather than just cooping up at home.”

Saki went back to removing the thin bits of ice on his wing, humming to herself. Teba savored the moment for what felt like a century, heart fluttering every time she glanced up to check on him.

Harth finally quipped in, tone playful. “Guess you’ve pretty much got the same mindset as us “fools,” eh, Ms. Saki?” He kicked back in his chair and crossed a leg over his knee. “Birds of a feather….heh.”

Saki snapped her head around to glare at Harth. “Actually,” the tone could cut steel, “The difference here, is that I had the common sense to not go out looking for a fight. I had the basic logic to understand that fighting a monster on its own turf would be reckless and idiotic. I had the brains to gather further supplies than a mere five fire arrows. And I actually had the decency to inform someone of my whereabouts should anything unexpected happen, rather than having the arrogance to think things would always go according to my own plans.”

She sighed again. “I hate to make Amali worry, but I’d rather stay here to look after you two while she informs someone to come pick you both up.”

Harth shut his trap real quick after that, to which Teba would have probably laughed if he wasn’t also scared of the possibility of getting the same treatment from her.

After a few more minutes, Saki finally finished up and patted his wing. Teba mustered enough courage to speak.

“Thank you…for everything.” He tried to prop himself up in the bed. “I can probably fly back in this condition. Kaneli’s probably gonna kill me twice over if I don’t get back soon.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to piss daddy off,” Harth snickered.

“Fuck off, Harth.” Teba and Saki quipped simultaneously. Teba however, was a bit taken aback by how calmly and sweetly she had spoken. The thoughts were knocked out of his brain when Saki rapped his skull with her blade again. “Ow! Would you—”

Saki pointed the blade at his throat. She was so close he was sure she could hear his heartbeat fast…and it wasn’t just from fear.

“Firstly, no. Neither of you boys will be leaving anytime soon so long as I’m here. You will be staying in bed,” she glared at Harth, but kept the blade on Teba, “And you will be keeping your tail feathers glued in that chair.” Saki turned back to Teba with a sweet smile.

“You will be staying here for the next eight hours, not so much as scratching the tiniest itch on that wing. Then, when someone comes here to pick you both up like I discussed, you will keep seeing me for at least another two weeks so I can monitor your injury. And perhaps when that’s all done, I will think about baking you a pie in celebration of your heroic feat tonight.”

She pressed the Feathered Edge a bit closer to his throat. “However, if this turn of events does not come into fruition…let’s say, if for some completely silly reason either of you decided to leave this cabin and fly home, well. I will just have to make sure to give you a reason to stay bedridden for another month. Do I make myself clear, warriors?”

The boys nodded as quickly as they could.

“Wonderful! I’m so glad we’re on the same page!” Saki's smile and tone was so quiet and sweet as she sheathed her blade once more.

Teba could still feel his heart thumping against his chest. There was a pleasant silence as the lodge was filled with the crackling of fire, and the occasional chirp of a morning bird. He stared at the way Saki’s eyes dazzled like a delicate sky.

Saki clicked her tongue. “Oh you poor thing. You’re still freezing aren’t you? Your feathers are all ruffled up.”

On instinct, the feathers on his neck—and pretty much everywhere else over—puffed up. “UH. Oh! Yeah. Cold. Very cold…yes.” He looked away and started coughing. Saki got up to get something by the fireplace, while Harth did his best to hide his snickering. Teba silently mouthed “help me” to Harth, which only further hindered his attempts to hide a laugh.

The pink Rito flashed one last pleasant smile at the two of them as she made her back towards the door. “Alright, I’m just gonna grab the firewood outside so I’ll be back in a moment. You’ll be alright, right? Nothing’s still aching or anything?”

Even muscle in Teba’s body seemed to melt at the way she curiously cocked her head to the side with a smile. The best he could do was mumbled out his thoughts before he had the chance to think them through.

“With you looking at—after me, I think I’ll be fine.”

Saki chuckled and Teba felt a combined feeling of pride and embarrassment. As she closed the door, Harth looked back at him.

“Very smooth. Quite the wordsmith.”

“Shut it, fuckface.”

- - - - -

TWO WEEKS LATER.

“What do you want?”

The doctor grumbled rudely as Teba did his best to not seem like a complete idiot. “Uh…Saki?”

“You want Saki?”

His mind shifted to a daydream. “Yeah…” Whenever her name was mentioned he couldn’t help but smile, but that fell away when he snapped back to reality. “WAIT, I mean— no. I don’t want— I mean not no, I just didn’t mean it like— I just.” Teba grumbled some more. “Where she is. I want where she is, or… need. I don’t want. I’ve never wanted— I just need the location. Her location, currently. Which is not here. Where is she. Please…”

Teba put on his best smile despite the fact that he felt like his body was suddenly on fire. Perhaps that was a habit learned from the Wizzrobe incident.

The doctor shook her head. “Kids and their incoherent rambling— She's coming back from Slippery Falcon last I checked. Baking another Get-Well-Soon fish pie, I assume.”

“Ah, great! That’s fantastic. Yes. Yeah! Great. Thank you so much, Una—”

“Get out already, Teba. This place is for the sick and injured. Not the…” she glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, “awkward, and alive. Both of which are actually quite surprising to see from you…”

He managed to give a weak mix of a scoff and a nervous laugh before promptly leaving.

Descending the many steps of Rito village, Teba’s mind raced with thoughts.

Just gotta not fuck up one conversation. Just a simple question! Just...quick little hang out...thing. Yeah. Yep. I can do that. She’s seen me blabber worse when I’m unconscious, so what’s one sober conversation. I’ve killed things! Why am I even stumbling over a few words? Tsk. Yeah. I’ve seen monsters and beasts and blood and blades, I've got this. This is doable, I can do this.

He suddenly bumped into a pink colored Rito at one of the turns, and she laughed as she fumbled with the honeycomb and butter held in her arms.

“Oh my! Well, good morning, Teba.”

I can’t do this.

“And where are you off to this lovely morning?” Saki tilted her head curiously, to which Teba’s eyes immediately dilated.

“…uh…I…” Was it just him or were her feathers slightly fluffier than usual? “I just wanted to…say hi.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Well.” She gave him a cheerful wave with a free wing, clutching her ingredients close to her chest. “Hi!”

“Y-Yeah. Hi…” Teba just stood there as Saki continued walking up the stairs behind him.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck do something, idiot I don’t have—

“Actually Teba…” Saki suddenly turned back around to face him. He quickly leaned a wing against the railing to seem casual. “If you’re not doing anything right now…do you mind helping me with something?”

Teba felt like he responded just a bit too quick. “Yes! Definitely. I can do that.” He coughed, and held out a wing. “You want me to hold something for you?”

She beamed. “Yes! Come on.” She shifted her baking ingredients in one wing, and used her free wing to hold his. Saki dragged him along as their feathers intertwined. Teba’s soul immediately left the mortal realm and his physical body was left stumbling and sputtering.

“WAIT! I—I DIDN’T MEAN! UH—I MEAN SURE— IF YOU’RE OK—BUT THIS ISN’T—”

“I have something heating up upstairs, so hurry along now.” She spoke quickly, not really having the extra confidence to look him in the eyes. But at this point they could both feel each other’s feathers poof as they held wings.

Carrying a mix of honey, Tabantha wheat, and butter, they both eventually made their way to the public kitchen where a fire was roaring.

Teba started grumbling apologies, but Saki cut him off by shoving a wood spoon and a bowl into his chest.

“Your rebellious nature won’t apply to cookbooks, yes?”

And with that, they got to it. Teba’s mind was still processing the events of fifteen minutes ago so while he stared blankly at Saki, he struggled to do the basic task of mixing.

“Here,” she held his wing and adjusted his grip on the spoon. If she wasn’t a pink Rito she might have blushed. “Try not to fling the batter out the window.”

They both started to gain just a bit more confidence as they continued working. Teba started to tease Saki a bit as he held the bowl with the salmon filling above her.

“What’s one little taste? It’s all gonna be eaten at the end, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare, it’s still raw!”

“Just one little dip.”

“If you stick one dirty little feather in that bowl I swear I’ll—”

Teba continued trying to dance around her, but she eventually got it back after a quick whack in the head with a spoon.

The morning flew above them, and the shades of a blue day were laced with clouds of white. The shadows of the hut spun across the floor like a spell. Eventually, the aroma of savoury fish with hints of butter filled the air. Teba grabbed a fork.

“This Get-Well pie was for me, yeah? So let me just—” Saki slapped his wing.

“Not yet, gosh.” She stole his utensil. “You forgot the most important part!”

Saki pressed the edge of the fork on the plain face of the fish pie, giving the little fishy a simple, honest grin.

“There!”

“That’s a bit creepy.”

“What?! No…it’s cute! A joyful little fish!”

“You know that this is just gonna be decapitated by me, yeah?”

“It’s about the sentiment, Teba. Hush.”

True to his word, Teba used a knife to take the first bite, decapitating the little creature. Stuffing his beak, his eyes immediately lit up. The flaky crust paired perfectly with the soft meat, the taste and texture beyond amazing.

Saki tilted her head, curious. “Well? How is it?”

“Mmmbfhbgm. Myeah. Yum.”

She clapped. “Oh I’m glad! I actually ignored the ratio a bit and put a bit more butter, so it’s good that that worked out.”

“What happened to following the instructions and rules?”

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her wings over her chest, playfully. “I don’t know… What happened to that priceless journal from Master Revali that was found to be missing from records a few days ago?”

“Damn. Fair enough, then.”

Saki suddenly gasped. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry I completely forgot about the time. You usually sneak off to practice Master Revali’s techniques by now, don’t you?” She went to grab a napkin. “Here, you can wrap this up and take it to the Flight Range, I didn’t mean to keep you for so—”

Teba went to grab one of her wings. “Hey hey! It’s ok. I’m still supposed to keep off the wing anyway, right?”

Saki scoffed, but didn’t pull away. “Oh, like you’ve been following that…”

“Better late than never?”

“Mhmm…”

Teba finally let go, and they stood in front of each other for a bit. Saki played with the curls of her hair, avoiding his gaze. Teba felt his feathers fluff up again, as he mumbled something.

“Hmm?” She looked up.

“Oh. I…didn’t say anything.”

“Ah, Right.” She looked away.

Fuck.

The warrior struggled to find the right words. In an effort to do anything but stay silent, he went to hold her wing again. Both of their feathers immediately floofed in response.

“S-Sorry. I should have—”

“No, it’s alright.” She kept his grip. “It’s alright.”

They both looked in opposite directions, Teba coughed again while Saki fiddled with her hair. The warrior continued screaming in his own mind, begging for some form of suitable and understandable words to come out of his beak. When he turned to speak, Saki cut him off with a soft smile.

“You know, Teba. You don’t have to say anything.”

His beak opened and closed for a few moments, confused. Finally he settled on his thoughts. “Can I try?”

She nodded. “If you really want to.”

Saki wrapped her wings around his shoulders, looking up at him expectantly. When he looked into her eyes, all he could feel was the embrace of a summer’s wind. It was blue. Cerulean. Perhaps teal, or a comparison of sapphire. There was a romantic simile in the world somewhere that he didn’t bother to find.

This close, he could see her eyes dilate, and count small imperfections on her beak. Teba stood as still as ice, before breathing out a bit in relief. He allowed himself to smile, and held her hips and swayed to some unknown rippling melody. Perhaps for just this moment, he accepted it. His words didn’t matter as his gaze lit up sweet and gold and honey. Finally, as they swayed and danced in warmth, the sun to the sky said,

“You look nice.”

#reblogs appreciated!#Teba: I'm gonna go get justice for my village so that no one else gets hurt!#Also Teba: *nearly dies on multiple occasions*#Teba is just the 'this is fine' meme and i love him for it #botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #botw fanfiction #teba x saki #tebasaki #yes the fried chicken couple #teba #saki #saki botw #harth #harth botw #teba botw #botw gift exchange

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shishinoya · 4 years ago

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the mistake of loving you || k.t

— PAIRING || Kageyama Tobio X Reader — TYPE || Story [Cheese Cult Hanahaki Event] — WARNING || Pure Angst — WORD COUNT || 3.2k words — AUTHOR’S NOTE || aucbaosn so i basically took 5 days to write this and it’s one of my chonkiest fics i’ve written. ;;;; i wanna thank @cupofkenma, @kawanisshi, and @haikkeiji for beta reading my 5am writing <33 i love you all aiscbasnc

i also didnt mention the flower that kags was coughing up and it’s the [Delphinium grandiflorum] flower or “Summer Blues” || they are used as symbols of hope and tranquility and i used them because they show the hope kags has for the reader, the hope that they will return his love

“Love is such a beautiful feeling!”

“Oh, you haven’t lived yet if you’ve never fallen in love.”

“I can’t wait to fall in love.”

Love? Love sounded so unfamiliar, so distant. Like a foreign country, Kageyama understood their way of living, he knew the name, he recognized the language, but he never fully experienced the culture. The descriptions that frolicked and slipped their way from the mouths of peers, were overlooked and watered out. He could care less about something that others dreamed of - his own blinding the ability to sympathize with them. Love just seemed like a bundle of letters, strung together and people used it to label an emotion. He had no use for the sentiment; it was a waste of his energy. His effort. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He pushed it aside. He couldn’t strap onto the idea of love.

If love was something that everyone craved for, why isn’t everyone in love? Why did some chase after it as if it held jewels and the answers to every question in the world, while others loathed the sight of it. Kageyama kicked a pebble on the side of the road as he thought about the concept once again. He detested its mention but when virtually everyone talked about how thrilling it was, it was hard to stay indifferent. Gazing at the lush green hills, he nibbled on the plastic straw that was already brutally bitten. The lukewarm liquid trickled down his throat as he carried out his trek. He didn’t have a plan, nor a specific place to go, but he was going. He basked in the rays of the sun, occasionally placing a hand on the heated brick wall that stood tall and shielded him from the gusts of wind. He should be practicing, not wondering about a useless emotion. But the mind simply doesn’t work like that.

Turning a corner, he clicked his tongue when he realized he ran out of milk and only air was exiting the straw. A scowl drew itself on his already frowning face. With a grumble and brows furrowed, he threw away the box, only to shove his hands into his pockets. The sun was out but it wasn’t shining in Kageyama’s world.

His walk skidded to a stop when a bold colour struck his eye. Strange. He glanced further, head tilted with curiosity. His eyes raked over the golden petals, the rich green stem. The honey-toned flower was only one of the many different colours painting his vision. Plants of various sizes, height, hues, were all beautifully decorated behind the white picket fence. He loomed over the edge, trying to get a closer view of the scene. How funny that a simple plant, that had no voice nor opinions, was able to entice him into noticing its beauty. His eyes darted from one to the next, quickly analyzing each flower, but then he caught onto something more than a plant, more than just velvet leaves. Something that made his breath hitch and shook his body. Something that stilled his quick eyes.

You should have seen the way he stared at you; as if you were something so unreal, something he’d never even imagined. He could watch all day at the way your hair danced to the tune of the wind. He gaped as your skin glistened at the touch of the sun. Everything about you was breathtaking. From the way you pushed loose strands away from your face, damp from the long hours under the heat, to how you poured the watering can, with grace and care. His throat became dry. He hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath until he felt a throb in his chest. Was it his lungs or was it his heart?

“Are you going to keep standing there? The plants kinda need the sunlight.” He sighed at the sound of your voice. It was silvery, clear and light; soothing his ears like aloe over a wound. He replayed the tone in his mind like his favourite song, only processing the words after memorizing the colour of your voice. He flinched. His head shook, rattling his mind to think of anything but how he thought your voice was enchanting.

“U-uh…” He stuttered, teeth clashing with his tongue. No matter how many nervous swallows he did, it was not enough to quench his desert-like mouth. Heat rose to his face, colouring it like the blush of autumn leaves.

The words fought their way from his throat, tumbling over each other, all wanting to let themselves be known by you. They lumped in his throat as he panicked to find the correct things to say. Compliments, excuses, apologies, even a simple greeting would do, so why wasn’t anything flowing?

“Hello?”

“Erm. H-hi.”

“Ah, so you do talk.” Although it was teasing, Kageyama noticed you didn’t smile. He couldn’t believe you were so close; he couldn’t believe you were talking to him. Your beauty captivated him, held his eyes in a vice and hushed any thoughts. Mesmerizing.

But your eyes. They showed something different, something that contradicted your appearance. Compared to the glow you illuminated, your eyes were dull. Drained of colour. Tired. The dark circles under your eyes only added to the fact that you had restless nights.

“Well if you’re going to continue to stand there, you might as well help me carry those pots.” You pointed towards a stack of new caramel coloured pots. He should have followed your hand, but he was more interested in your movements. So graceful and perfect that it seemed like you practiced that one movement over and over. “I could do it myself but after five hours of pulling out weeds, my arms are a bit ti - are you even listening to me?”

“Yes!” He jolted when your eyes met his ocean-like ones. “I-I mean, yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be listening to you? You’re speaking, right? So, the right thing to do is listen.” He was repeating himself. You simply nodded without batting him an eyelash. He was making a fool of himself. “I - uh, I would love to help you out, but I got to - um, you know - uh, feed… feed my pet orange…” His voice trailed off at the last syllable. He called Hinata dumbass a lot, but maybe he was the dumbass. Without waiting for your response, he took off. Tripping over his feet and wiping his baffling sweaty hands over his track pants, he didn’t spare you a glance. His ears felt hot. Was the sun shining too hard now? It was causing his face to heat up. Was it you? Did you do this? He didn’t even touch you. How did you have the power to make him feel like this?

You quizzically watched him jog - no, stumble his way down the road.

Odd.

Why didn’t he agree to help you? You could have sworn he was captivated.

You found the male interesting. He was able to find a spot in a small corner of your mind and called it his own. You questioned it. You’ve never had a proper conversation; you don’t even know his name, and yet, you wondered about him. You lightly shook your head, mentally pulling the weed that invaded your brain. A weed that might wither in your grasp.

He shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t be thinking about him. He shouldn’t get involved with you.

But he was persistent.

Kageyama was confused. He would always look at the path he took that day; the day where he thought his eyes had been blessed. The images of the flowers would waltz their way into his head at random times. How rich they were; how bold and vibrant. It was as if he was introduced to colours for the first time all over again. The memories played like a film while he was washing dishes, going on a jog, when he was doing literally anything. The scenes of plants slow dancing, the beaming sun, you, assaulted his poor mind.

Just the thought of your hair falling slighting and framing your face, caused him to blush. He remembered how clear your skin was, practically glittering, similar to the glistening of the sun over ocean waves. Those lips. Those plump soft lips that he imagined touching, wondered how they would feel like, sound like, taste like; he wanted to experience them. Such erotic thoughts. How could he think of that when he hadn’t talked to you? He didn’t know why you were all he could think of. He didn’t understand the way you made him feel. Unknowingly, he was slowly falling into your hands.

It all happened so quickly, so subtly. He questioned why he was teased for his distant stares or his beet-red face. He didn’t quite believe that what he was experiencing was called “love”. This was nothing to what people described it as. He didn’t expect to be constantly thinking about you, to get nervous every time your image popped in his head. No one told him his chest would feel heavy. No one told him it would be painful.

A scratch tickled his throat. He tried quietly clearing it.

The scratch turned into claws. He tried silencing them with a cough.

His throat felt like it was being pierced. Dry wheezes escaped his mouth.

He coughed and coughed, each one using more force than the previous. He coughed till he gagged, wincing at the feeling. He steadied himself, knuckles white from the strength he was gripping the edge of the sink. Panting, he stared at himself in the mirror. Pale and large beads of sweat dripping down the side of his head. Another wave washed over him and his body shook.

He coughed, gagged, vomited. Repeated. A cycle that lasted until blood tainted his teeth and dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He looked like a mess. He felt like a mess. He was a mess.

The pool of sky blue petals, sticky and stained from his saliva and blood, served as evidence. It was more than enough to tell him.

He made a mistake. The mistake of loving you.

The petals were the beginning, just the start of his blooming love for you. They clung to his throat, littered his tongue, flooded his lungs, made it impossible for him to breathe. He was confused, scared even. What were these? Why did they hurt so much?

He searched for answers. He browsed the internet until his eyes burned and watered. His fingers stung from the many paper cuts he acquired flipping through books. But gained nothing; just a mason jar overflowing with blood-stained petals.

He turned to you. Surely you had some answers; something, even if it was just the name of the flower. Anything. And so he visited you. Of course, his heart banged on drums that echoed and surged through his entire body, but he needed explanations. Maybe he wanted to see your face again, but he was masking that fact with his goal for answers. He needed it to keep him sane; to make sure he didn’t overheat.

He came back? The puddle of water that soaked your sandals and your gaping mouth made little effort in trying to hide your surprise. Blinking several times, you tried to think of a reason why he was here, why he would come back to you. Was he going to try again, going to try and capture your love? Was he going to fail? Crash and burn just like the rest of them?

“Hello again.” You played passively. “Are you finally taking up the offer to carry those pots-”

“I have a… a question.” His voice trembled, you wondered if he knew you could hear it. He swallowed. In his hand, he held tiny blue flowers. “What - uh… what are these?”

“You came all the way here to ask me that?” Furrowing your brows, you approached him, ultimately causing him to tense. You picked the petals from his hand, ignoring the way he flinched and the visible droplets of sweat layering his palm. “Have you tried the internet?”

“I couldn’t find anything.”

“Books?”

“No, nothing.”

“And so you thought the girl who has a garden could tell you.” He looked away.

“Yeah. Basically.”

“Well, I don’t.” His expression dropped. “But,” You tested the waters. Would it be alright? Would it be okay to suggest this one little thing? “Maybe if you come back tomorrow, I will have an answer.”

That hopeful look on his face made a strained smile appear. Hadn’t you had enough? Are you not satisfied with the number of people you’ve tormented? How many more did you want to fall for your tricks?

let him go. but he can save me. stop lying to yourself. i’m not! it’s true! you don’t deserve it. i can change. you’ve said it before and look what happened then.

Your mind and your heart played tug-o-war over your feelings for Kageyama. Although the guilt and fear bit at your legs, slit your skin, churned your stomach, you listened to your heart. You allowed him into your house. You allowed yourself to smile with him, to laugh at his jokes. You allowed him to drag you to new places, trying new restaurants and video game cafes. Your heart wanted you to be free, but your mind held you by your neck.

you let him die. i didn’t mean to! it wasn’t my fault. yes, it was. you knew his love, you knew how much he cared for you. he only cared for my looks. you know that’s not true. would you like me to remind you? no, please don’t. too late.

Your mind loved to see you suffer, to hear those sobs of agony. It loved the way you desperately tried to wipe the tears, only making the swelling worse. It showed you the first time he met you, to when he gave you that big bright smile of his. It showed you the way he looked at you as if you were the only girl in the world. It made you relive those memories - no, nightmares.

do you see his love now? … do you need another reminder? how about your next victim?

The throb of your temple could never compare to the slap you received that day. You could still feel the sting. You could still hear their cries and accusations.

“You killed her! It was you! It was all your fault! How could you let this happen? Why didn’t you notice her? She was such a sweet girl. She just wanted you to be happy and now she’s gone. She’s gone. Gone because you didn’t love her back.”

Your knees ached. Your heart wept. Your empty stomach bubbled.

i’m sorry. please... please just stop. you think sorry is going to bring them back? to fix this mess? laughable. you think that pitiful garden of yours is going to make up for their existence? you think caring for their flowers will make up for the care they had for you? what a joke.

You were a joke, something so foolish it was comical. No matter how much you convinced yourself you were caring, that you were giving back to those who lost their lives because of you, it wasn’t enough. And he was going to be another.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered. The stars freckled themselves all over the midnight sky; one even winked at you. You hummed in response.

“Why I’m allowing myself to be with you like this.” He pretended it didn’t hurt. The familiar scraping hit the back of his throat. The flowers were getting worse. They were growing, getting larger. It was harder to cough them up. They drew more blood on their way up.

“So why do you?”

“I don’t know.” Your gaze fixating on the moon, its radiance illuminating your exhausted eyes. “You shouldn’t be around me.”

“But I am.”

“Then I shouldn’t be around you.”

“Why are you?”

“I don’t know.” You repeated with a sigh. “I don’t know a lot of things, but I do know that you’ll only get hurt when you’re with me.”

“Listen (Y/N),” he shifted his position, “No one forced me to hang out with you. I did it on my own so I think I know what’s good for me and what isn’t.” You didn’t meet his eyes.

“You know I can’t love you back.” His jaw clenched at the statement. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he searched your face for some regret or restrain.

“Am I - am I not enough for you?” He breathed out the question, afraid that it was coated too much with his fears.

“It’s not that.”

“Then why can’t I be the one? Why can’t you love me back?” It wasn’t like you didn’t have an answer, but it was more like you didn’t know how to answer.

The silence was interrupted by a fit of coughs. Kageyama was gasping. He dug his nails into the ground, not caring if mud and dirt made themselves home under them. He clenched his trachea, attempting to quell the needle-like pricks. One, three, seven flowers fell from his pale lips. He coughed until his head spun. Coughed until his arms gave out. It truly felt like he was dying while living.

“Kageyama?” You didn’t care that your indifference quickly snapped into concern. You patted his back and grabbed his shoulders. “Kageyama, are you okay?” The coughing didn’t stop; he couldn’t stop them. Several flowers littered the grass, enough to make multiple bouquets. Your grasp on his shuddering body tightened. His chest heaved. For once, you were looking into his eyes.

“They - they weren’t your fault. You couldn’t control your feelings.” So he knew. “Let yourself cave to your emotions. It wasn’t your fault.” He was too pale, growing colder. “You don’t need anyone’s approval to love. They wanted you to be happy. So go and be happy.” His voice croaked and cracked, the flowers clogging his vocal tube. His breaths were short. His lids were closing. He was dying.

“Kageyama?” You called, this time it was your voice’s turn to crack. “To-Tobio. Please. I won’t be able to handle it. Don’t go.”

“I wish I could be there for you. I wish it were me. But I just want you to be happy. Be happy even if I’m not the one making you happy.” He tried to smile. You didn’t know. Your vision was blurred.

He took one more glance at your face, still with that grin plastered on his face, before closing his eyes. You panicked, eyes wide and shaking his head.

“Kageyama?” You were alarmed.

“Don’t do this to me.” You were afraid.

“Come… Back.” You were devastated.

Your sobs turned into gasps. Your lungs felt like they were being squeezed and popped like a balloon. Your tears fell onto his still warm skin. A gulp of air was caught in your throat. It caught you off guard and you coughed. You coughed and choked. Was this how he felt? Was this how they felt? How painful. You couldn’t care less about how you sounded. You felt numb. The taste of salt and metal filled your mouth.

“What if,” It was quiet but audible, your throat too tired and bruised to be strong, “I loved you?” The single warm petal sat on the side of Kageyama’s cheek, taunting you and giggling at how foolish you were. it’s your turn it sneered.

cheesey bbs || @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @mlkytobio @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @ushiwakaa @from-left-to-write @akaashit-baeji @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi @hanibuni @cupofkenma @kawanisshi @milkandc00kiez @thiccbokuto @shinsukestan @sufiawrites @wakaitoshi @skyguy-peach @fern-writes-ig @briswriting @kawaiikraykray @bubbleteaa @miyuswriting @raevaioli @ouikarwa @hakueishirei @pineapplekween @estherwritess @keiji-n @achoohq @badlywritten-hq @mochibeaa @oinkanna @chxrry-wxne @spudicide @airybby @asranomical @karmasuna @nekoglasses

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babbushka · 5 years ago

Text

Beautiful, Beloved (8/8)

Titanic!AU Kylo Ren x Reader

7.6k ; Warnings: Angst.

(For a more immersive experience, please read while listening/watching along to this incredible historically accurate animation of the sinking. Without Titanic: Honor and Glory’s breadth of research and information, this fic would not have been possible -- or at least, much more difficult to write.)

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There was nothing around you, in that moment.

No ship, no passengers, no frozen water. Just him, just your husband, just Kylo. Your heart thumped wildly inside your rib cage, squeezed to a near stop at the very sight of him, for it was still astounding to you that you had found him in that maze of a ship.

You had found him against all odds, and there he was, lying on the boat deck. The lights were out, but the emergency power was still on. Someone ran past you, but you did not see who it was. They threw something on you, something heavy and cold, but you did not care to look. There was so much noise – was that music? – but you could not listen. Not with him right here, so cold and so pale.

It was by the weak light of the emergency system that your hand crashed down upon Kylo’s cheek, hoping beyond hope that the shock of it would wake him from where he was lying too still.

“Breathe, god dammit Kylo.” You demanded, teeth bared in a feral sort of anger, tears freezing on your eyelashes as you slapped his face again and again, desperation and terror clutching your soul. “You are not dying on me, not now – breathe!”

You cast a murderous gaze up to the inky blackness above you, as if threatening the very heavens themselves. For if they claimed him on this night, after everything you’d been through to get him, you’d bring hell to their front door.

Your defiance would shake the stars.

You felt warm then, as if your blood boiling was the only thing keeping you together. The Titanic creaked and groaned, a horrifying sound of steel being crushed and pressed, bending and twisting in on itself deep in the bowels of the ship. You cried, oh how you wept, hot angry tears onto Kylo’s face. You were so close, you had been so close.

The ship groaned, and your hand gave one final attempt at rousing him before you resulted to the rudimentary CPR you had once only read about.

Rose knew more than you, and she assumed the position without speaking, began pumping compression onto his chest as the ship tipped tipped tipped. You filled your lungs and pinched his nose, forced air down into his lungs, tried not to think of it as a kiss, tried desperately not to think of this as the last time you might ever feel the press of his lips against yours.

“Wake up!” You sobbed against his cheek when you had to gulp down more air, Rose not letting up with the timed compression. “Wake up Kylo! Don’t you dare die on me!”

With trembling hands you swallowed down air and forced it through him once more, twice more, three times more – when his entire body convulsed and shuddered. He rolled himself onto his side, and then onto his hands and knees as he hacked up seawater and coughed the worst cough you’d ever heard in your entire life.

You simply could do nothing but throw your arms around his waist, sob into his back.

“Lord Ren oh thank the stars – oh thank you, thank you!” Rose hugged him too, and for one short moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

You heard the ragged wheeze of his breath, and that alone was enough to make your eyes pinch shut, the anger dissolving. He let himself collapse back down onto the deck, and the three of you did your best to not get trampled as hundreds of people rushed from the bow.

“Is this Heaven?” Kylo reached out, cupped a hand to your cheek. It was frozen solid, completely chilled and blue in the nails. You placed your own hand on top of it, let your tears thaw him if even for a moment.

“No, not yet. Not yet Kylo, come quickly, come we must move.” You said, shuffling back enough to stand.

The thing someone had thrown on you was a life-jacket, and you quickly buckled yourself into it, glad to see someone had tossed Rose one as well. There didn’t seem to be one for Kylo, but that was alright you thought, that was alright. Between the three of you, you’d all float.

“You’re not on the lifeboat.” Kylo coughed coughed coughed, spit onto the deck and wiped his mouth. He was glad to see there was no blood, his shoulders sagged with relief. “Why are you not on the lifeboat?”

“I couldn’t leave you.” Your chin wobbled as the ship creakedgroanedsnappedcrashed around you as it listed further and further to the side, a rumble so deep that it almost sounded like a great whale’s song. You wondered briefly, if the whales would inspect the wreckage, if they’d marvel at the hubris of mankind. “I won’t leave you, Kylo, I won’t, but we have to move. The ship, she’s going under and quickly.”

You did not know how he found the strength, but Kylo stood up on his strong legs, took in lungfuls of air, and cast a glance to how the water had risen up to the railings. Just earlier that day – or was it yesterday? You did not know what time it was – you and Kylo had stood against these very railings.

Just earlier you had envisioned a life together, a grand one filled with luxury.

Now, you’d be lucky to have any life at all, you’d take anything you could get.

“Then we must climb to the very edge, for that is the only possible way to survive this.” Kylo said, determined and stubborn, always with a plan. “We cannot let the ship crush us.”

He tried taking a step, but the ship lurched to the side again once more.

The music stopped, violinists in the distance overcome with water as it rushed up the bow.

“Come, Rose is here, Rose please help.” You asked, as the chaos from the crowd began.

Everyone began running as quickly as they could tried to outrun the water. You, Kylo and Rose joined them, joined in the mass of bodies all crammed together like sardines. There was a collapsible boat of sorts that had been overturned, that a group of men were trying to flip even as the water pushed them away, dragged them down into the ocean to join the rest of the unlucky ones.

“We will have to fight our way through, there are too many people.” Rose shouted, for you had to shout now if you wanted to be heard, all the screams of those outrunning the water.

You were growing so tired of being chased like this, but the terror of the reality hit you that soon there would be nowhere left to run.

“We will fight then, we’ve come this far, we must make it to the edge.” You said back, prepared to do anything at that point, prepared to do anything if it meant saving yourselves.

“Take my hand –” Kylo said then, shaking his drenched hair out of his face and offering you an open palm. You grasped it as tightly as your own frozen fingers could, and as if the two of you shared some mental bond, you reached back to your friend at the same time as Kylo commanded, “Rose you hold onto her hand and neither of you under any circumstances ever let go, do you understand me?”

“Yes sir, I won’t.” Rose said, her hand fitting in yours and closing tightly.

“There’s no need for sir here.” Kylo shook his head and did his best to offer a smile to her, before hardening his expression and asking you both, “Ready?”

“Go!” You encouraged, and off you went.

As Kylo parted a path in the crowd by his sheer size and muscle alone, you were reminded of Lord Hux’s great war machines that he had designed. A body built of impenetrable steel, bulletproof, unrelenting. But instead of bullets, people bounced away from him, shoved to the sides, scrambling in his wake. Instead of rolling wheels, his heavy feet dug into the wooden floor-planks as he hauled you and Rose across the deck.

A feat which was providing most difficult, as the ship began to plunge further into the depths. The bow was all but gone now, screams danced atop the water like waves, waves which rushed pushed pulled people all around.

Somehow, you did not know you, but somehow you made it to the edge, to the very foremost end of the ship. It was time to climb, you realized, and Kylo did so with ease. The ship was on such an angle that the railings which had once been vertical now laid parallel to the water, and became the only thing flat enough to support oneself.

You all were not the only one with this idea, but there was space enough for the three of you as Kylo climbed over the railing, never once letting go of your hand.

“Here! I’m right here, I’m right here we’re together.” Kylo assured you, short of breath but there, pale in the face but there.

You laid on your stomachs on the railing, arms and legs wound around it for better hold. From this angle you were looking straight across into the ocean, straight down into the belly of the ship. People were falling sliding tumbling down, screaming as their backs cracked and water rushed into their lungs.

“The ship can’t take much more of this, the bow is too heavy, there’s too much water.” You panicked, you were panicking, because of course you were, of course. What would happen when the ship fully went under? What would you hold onto then?

Just then, a loud snapping sound filled the air. It was unlike the moaning of metal you had all but filtered into the background.

No, this was sharp, fast snaps in the air.

“My god what is that, gunshots?” Rose asked, as metal mixed with screams and whips cracked loud in the night. But it was a familiar sound, and after only one more crack did you place it with horror.

“It sounds like the cables, remember? From the very first day?” Your mind went back to Southampton, how the ships of the berth had broken free, how the cables had given way to the Titanic’s sisters in the harbor. “Fuck the cables are snapping!! Look – look over there!”

Just then, one of the four great funnels fell over. It whooshed on its downfall, cutting through the air before slamming down onto the water, slamming down onto people swimming for their lives. You screamed out in sympathy for them, screamed out in terror as you knew they would be crushed, pinned underneath the funnel.

And then, the second funnel went up in a great spark, a plume of smoke. It too toppled.

You suddenly felt as though you knew the answer to that old riddle – if a funnel fell in the ocean and no one was around to hear it, it still made a sound.

You wondered if anyone could hear your screams, wondered if you’d be attracting sharks or monsters of the deep from all the commotion. A hysterical laugh bubbled out of you – for that would surely be something, wouldn’t it? Sharks were the last thing anyone needed.

But then you remembered, sharks were cold blooded, and water this cold would surely kill them too.

You remembered this while watching those around you give up their place willingly, letting go of the railing to plummet into the water.

“Don’t jump,” You began to shout, tried telling anyone who would listen as the ship groaned and creaked, as the lights of the emergency power began to flicker. You would be in total darkness soon, nothing but the stars which mocked you, which watched with curious twinkling eyes. “Don’t jump, the water will freeze you to death.”

“It’s useless they can’t hear you.” Rose tried, shook her head and squeezed your hand.

“Don’t jump please! Please you are safer here!” You continued anyway, tears stinging your eyes as more and more passengers followed suit, as more and more released their hold on the railing.

“Safe?” A man only a few yards away from you laughed darkly, choked around a sob, “How can any of us be safe? We’re all dead men, every last one of us.”

“Sir please, you must have hope, we must all have hope.” Rose cried, and oh how she was strong, how she was so brave and good and strong, to even in these bleakest hours still hold hope.

“Hope? The ship is sinking dearie, there isn’t any hope left at all – ” And that was all the man had to say, before someone above him let go of the railing for some unknown reason, and her body came knocking into him, bringing them both under the water with a splash.

You huddled closer to your husband, pulled Rose closer to you as you noticed that splash was close enough for water to spot onto your cheeks.

“Kylo – Kylo we’re moving faster, the water is coming up faster oh god what do we do what can we do?” Your voice grew high, your breathing came in fast pants, shallow breaths which made you dizzy as you screamed and screamed, the ship lurching crashing breaking – it was breaking beneath you.

“Hold onto something, everyone hold on to anything you can! The funnels will crush you if you’re in the water.” Kylo barked out at the passengers. There was that commanding voice again, you thought as your husband’s military time came rushing up to the surface.

“Do you think anyone sees the ship? Do you think anyone is coming for us? Kylo what if no one comes for us?” You frantically looked around as the stern went higher higher higher, the propellers now lifted fully out into the air.

The lights flickered, and you could not see anything on the horizon, nothing at all.

The ship groaned, the stern rose, water water water, so much water. The funnels were giving way, flares exploded in the sky like great fireworks.

And then the emergency power began to shut off.

“They’re coming, they have to be. Someone has to be.” Kylo said, his own voice betraying him, for he was unsure, you all were.

“There’s not much of the ship left!” You shouted, and oh what an awful sound! What a bone-chilling noise, the ship going under. There was that deep rumble, the cables snapping, the screams the awful screams – were you screaming? You had to be screaming.

And then the emergency power went off entirely, and with it, so did any last restraints the ship had against crumbling completely.

You were plunged into darkness, complete and total, as the stern was now nearly ninety degrees in the air, the bow filled to the limit.

“Kylo!!” You clung to him, as Rose clung to you, as you all clung to the vestiges of life that you could.

“Hold on!” Was all Kylo warned, and the three of you braced yourselves for the unthinkable.

It was silent, for a moment. Or maybe it wasn’t, you didn’t know. You couldn’t tell. Terror washed through you as the ship collapsed in on itself entirely, and there was nothing.

No noise, no screams, no music, no groaning of the Titanic.

There was not a Titanic, not any longer, not with the way it split into two pieces, snapped right in half.

You held on as tightly as you could as the ship tossed and flung you around, the last two funnels sinking down into the depths of the ocean.

“I can’t – I can’t, (Y/N) my hands, I can’t feel my hands.” Rose sobbed, her hold on you slipping as the ship rolled over to one side, began to sinksinksink rapidly, went under you were going under.

“Rose no please,” You begged, tightened your grip, refused to let her go. “Please Rose we’re right here, you have to stay with us.”

“I’m not strong enough, I can’t – I can’t -- !” Her hands slipped out of yours and she fell, screaming until her body smacked against the water.

“Rose!” You reached your arm through the railings at her, your entire body paralyzed with fear.

The ship was moving too quickly, was moving so fast, the water was rising and you began to scream and cry uncontrollably because what else could you do?

“She’ll be alright, (Y/N) I need you to listen to me, she will be alright.” Kylo rambled, talked and talked and talked because the water was coming and you knew he did not want to drown a second time, you didn’t want to drown oh fuck you were going to drown, but Kylo held your hand, and Kylo kept talking, “I have a feeling, I know she’ll survive and she will find us when she does but for now I need you to take a deep breath when I tell you, okay?”

“Kylo I’m so scared.” You sobbed and hiccuped frozen breaths, your lungs surely crystallized with ice, your face numb.

“I know, me too.” Kylo admitted, and you looked at him, took one long last look at him as he kissed you briefly, “We are going under and the ship is going to drag us down so you are going to have to swim, alright? Hold your breath and swim to the surface.”

“Not without you.” You shook your head, tightened your grip on him.

“I’m not letting go of your hand ever again. You’ll have to chop me off.” Kylo held your joined hands up and your chin wobbled as the water came higher only a few yards away – no a few feet away.

“Okay.” You nodded, trusting him implicitly, trusting him with your life as you cried, “Okay – fuck Kylo – okay on the count of three?”

“One,” Kylo said,

“Two,” You looked down into the ocean,

“…Three!”

You expanded your ribs and took in as much air as you could, and braced yourself for the slam of water as it rushed over your heads, as it dragged you down, as it pulled you and the Titanic under the water completely.

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

You resisted the urge to scream, somehow. Tossed around upside down which way was up which way was air where were you it was so dark so cold you were so cold.

You and Kylo let go of the railing immediately, but not each other. You weren’t sure if you had the ability to uncurl your hand from around his even if you wanted to – not that you ever did, not that you’d ever let him go again. It was almost surreal being under the water. There were no lights except for a million miles below you, where explosions bloomed from the ship hitting the ocean’s floor.

In this freezing weightless darkness, you wondered if this was what it was like to be up there among the stars. Your body was knocked around and around by waves and people alike, Kylo’s hand yanking you around with him as he too was caught up in the suction.

You could not see the surface, it was too dark. How much further would you have to swim? Were you swimming? You could not feel your body, had no idea if you were kicking your legs, moving your arms.

Your lungs burned burned burned, and you began to panic because which way was up? What if you were swimming deeper, what if you were making it impossible?

Kylo, always Kylo, oh your darling Kylo, pushed your stomach up up up. The life-jacket, you remembered, you were wearing the life-jacket! The air inside it sought the surface! All you had to do was swim in its direction.

Your lungs burned and your throat closed up and the saltwater stung your eyes and froze them over until – until! Your head crashed through the surface and you screamed out a gasp, filled your lungs with air sweet air and not water.

Kylo followed a second after you, pushing the hair out of your face, gasping and laughing laughing laughing. How you wished you could have seen his face, wished you could have looked at those dimples which graced his sweet smile, but it was too dark, and so all you could do was press your forehead against his and laugh with him.

“Holy shit, holy shit we’re not dead!” The utter joy of that statement – of having life in your bodies enough to say it filled you with hope, and you though of Rose, wondered where she might be floating, for she had a life-jacket too.

“You’re brilliant! Absolutely brilliant, my gorgeous girl.” Kylo laughed as he cupped your cheeks in his hands and kissed you kissed you a thousand times, lips trembling from the cold against your own as your legs kicked keeping you above the surface. “Come, we have to find something to get out of this water.”

“I can’t see anything, it’s so dark, what is there to float on?” You swam with him, blindly in the night.

It was just then that you realized how everything you and Kylo brushed up against, was not a something at all, but rather a someone. People, so many people filled the ocean. With the ship gone, bodies rose to the surface just as you and Kylo had. Some were dead, their weight lolling facedown in the water – but some were not.

You felt a pair of arms wrap around you, push you down so that they might use you as a floatation device for themselves. You choked and sputtered, tried your best to get them away, to get yourself away.

“Hey!” You shouted, your head dunked under the water, gasping when you shoved yourself to the surface, “Get off of me – get the fuck off!”

“Don’t touch her.” Kylo did something to him then, you didn’t know what it was, you couldn’t see. But he did something and you were freed, the arms gone, hands desperately seeking elsewhere.

“I can’t swim!” The man gargled water, but Kylo only yanked you closer to him, fiercely protective of you.

“That’s why you have a life jacket don’t you fucking touch her.” Kylo hissed, and you could only imagine the way the veins in his neck protruded with the effort.

“Kylo please, it’s not worth it, please we have to find something.” You pulled him away from starting an all-out brawl in the ocean. Now was not the time or the place, you didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to stay in water this cold.

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

Swimming was not easy while holding hands, but neither of you could bring yourselves to let go, and so you struggled together as your limbs cut through the water. There were too many bodies, too many people clogging the sea, too many thrashing around and screaming and crying, praying to gods with deaf ears, begging for those who would not come.

It felt like days weeks months years that you swam, your limbs so heavy, legs made of lead, arms made of steel, the same which pulled the Titanic down however long ago. But eventually, eventually you brushed up against something that was hard and made of wood, for it floated in the gentle wake of the disaster, and Kylo let out a strangled sound of joy when he slapped a hand atop it to measure its size.

“Here, look see? See I knew it, I knew it.” He said wetly, throat thick with emotion as he pulled you to the edge of it, “You first, please.”

You grasped across the other edge, and with tremendous effort from your exhausted muscles and the help of your husband’s strong hands on your back, you pulled yourself up onto a long strip of what had to have been paneling. You assumed it was from the explosions which had gone off below you, assumed it was lining of the ship underneath the hull plating, but you had no idea, not really.

It was pitch black still, what time was it? How long had you been in the water? You panicked then, reaching reaching reaching for Kylo.

“I’m up, come there’s room for you too.” You patted the wet wood to illustrate your point.

“No there isn’t, my weight will displace it, the panel will flip.” Kylo was doubtful and you wanted to scream – now was not the time, not the fucking time to be doubtful, not after you’d survived so much.

“Bullshit! Try again, we must try again.” You ordered, and you were sure you’d cry if you had any tears left.

“(Y/N) – ” Kylo started but you were having none of it.

“Try again!” You shouted, voice carrying across the sea as you took matters into your own hands and began yanking him up. “I am not letting you freeze to death in these waters. Try again Kylo, I’m begging you.”

“Wait, I have an idea, do you trust me?” Kylo struggled against your efforts and your face pinched up, exhaustion and blind terror and freezing cold water in the dead of night all creeping into you at once.

“Always Kylo, always.” You said, nodded though he could not see it.

“Give me your life jacket, I’m going to strap it underneath the panel of wood, the buoyancy will help us.” He panted, and you worried, you feared for him.

“Here, here take it, take and hurry, please.” Your hands shook terribly as you undid all the buckles, all the straps. He could not stay in this water any longer, he would die, the hypothermia would kill him and then you – you didn’t even know what you would do.

A weight lifted off your shoulders, both physically and metaphorically as you handed Kylo the vest. You waited with bated breath as he shoved the lifejacket underneath, pulling it across the width of the panel and offering you one of the longest buckles.

“Alright if you hold this strap, and I hold the other, this should keep us afloat.” Kylo said, and you grasped around for it, held it and shuffled over to one edge of the panel to give him room.

He hoisted himself up with impossible strength, and collapsed down onto the panel. It rocked and it tipped but it did not turn over, it did not flip. The life jacket had helped and what a miracle that was! What a fucking miracle.

“See? Do you see? You fit, there’s room for you, you fit.” You beamed, thrilled, laughing, exhausted. “You’re here, and I am here and we are alive, and you fit.”

You reached for him, wondered where his face was. It seemed as though you were lying in opposite directions on the panel, his feet were by your head, and your feet by his. Your hands sought one another immediately, your right clinging to his left.

“You’re right, you’re always right. I should not have doubted you, forgive me.” Kylo laughed too, gave your hand a squeeze.

“Kylo I would forgive you for anything in this moment, but you have nothing to apologize for.” You said sincerely, the joy of his ingenuity dying down from the reality of the situation.

“That’s not true, not when I brought you here, brought you to this nightmare.” He shook his head, turned his face to rest his cheek against your ankle. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be in a comfortable bed somewhere after enjoying a hot cup of tea and perhaps a biscuit or two.”

You sighed then, let out some of the tension you were harboring in your shoulders. It felt good, to relax for a moment. Not that you could really relax, not really. But you were out of the water, and that was something to celebrate.

“When we are out of this mess, I will order the softest bedding and the most expensive tea and we will enjoy it together.” You said, swallowing around a hard lump in your throat, “And we will stay up to watch the sunrise over the countryside, and I will kiss you and all will be well.”

Kylo was quiet then for a moment, a terrifying moment where you feared the worst. But he was still with you, you knew because his hand shook against yours, he trembled and you realized he must be crying quietly. He sniffed and gasped out a sob, and the sound broke your heart.

“I love you, so dearly. Ardently, I adore you.” He said, squeezing your hand, gasping and shaking around the admission. “You must know this, but I’m not sure, I may have not said aloud yet.”

“Don’t do that, don’t say your goodbyes to me, not yet.” Your voice cracked on its own, the hot sting of unshed tears from no water left brimming around your eyelids. How could that be possible, you wondered, there be no water left when you were surrounded by it? “Don’t tell me you love me until we are rescued, do you hear me?”

“I hear you blossom.” Kylo said, laughed at your stubbornness, squeezed your hand and nodded against your ankle, “I hear you.”

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

Much time passed.

The screams around you had begun to silence themselves, the shoutscriespleasbegs fading into nothingness. Had you drifted away from the wreckage? Had the current taken you a thousand miles away to shore? You hoped so, hoped that you’d open your eyes and there would be land.

But you knew that could not be, not with New York another three days away at top speed. But the alternative was too chilling to even entertain the thought of. Still, there were people alive out there. You could hear them, though they were far away. Could hear the splashing, the calling for help. Someone blew a whistle. There was not much left to do but wait.

You did not know how much longer you could wait, how much longer this could go on.

Kylo’s breathing had evened out and you wondered if he had fallen asleep. His hand twitched against your own occasionally, and your hand twitched in his, silent reminders that you were both there, you were together.

You thought to yourself, if this was how you went, at least you went together.

“Talk to me blossom.” Kylo said then, awake and alive and needing to prove you were the same.

“It is so d-dark Kylo, and I am so cold.” You shivered, for it was the truth, and you could not lie to your husband, not now, not ever. He valued honesty, and so you told him the truth, “I cannot feel my feet.”

“Wiggle your toes for me, I know you can. Just wiggle them the smallest bit for me.” His voice was soft, and you sighed, because you knew it would be a fruitless endeavor. Still, he nudged your foot with his face, bumped it with his nose to get you to retaliate. You did, nudging your foot against his cheek then, a very small smile tugging at your lips. He kissed your ankle, “Thank you. Thank you, you’re going to be alright, see?”

“Now you, your turn.” You whispered, teeth chattering in the cold the freezing cold. He tried and after great effort, did you feel his foot nudge your cheek too. “Not so easy, hm?”

You lifted yourself up the smallest bit, careful not to disturb the wood paneling which had been doing such a good job of keeping you afloat, and lowered your torso across his legs, trying to warm him, trying to give him any bit of help that you could.

“Must everything be a – ” He shuddered, the cold aching his bones, “—a competition?”

“Only w-w-when I’m winning.” You replied, and he huffed out a little laugh.

Or was it a sigh? You didn’t know.

You were just thankful for it at all.

“It’s starting to grow quiet, can you tell?” You didn’t know if your eyes were open or closed, it was so dark. Even the stars seemed too far away now, they seemed to have lost their shine. “The cries are stopping.”

Kylo’s thumb rubbed soothing circles across the back of your palm.

“It has been a long time, but the lifeboats are doing what they can. They’ll come to us.” He said, believed his own words so much that you almost, almost believed them too.

“What if they don’t?” You asked, because the thought had been plaguing you for some time.

“(Y/N).” Kylo said, a warning.

“I know, but.” You sighed, shivered and froze froze froze in the cold air, your body wet and freezing. Your clothes were stuck together, stiffened from ice. “Kylo…what if they don’t? What shall we do? I cannot fish.”

That got an unexpected laugh out of him, and you were grateful for it. You would have smiled, but you could not feel your face.

“I will teach you when we’re home.” Kylo said, his voice strained as his breath came in puffs. “I’ll teach you how to fish and hunt. I’ll teach you anything I know that you wish to learn.”

“C-can you play any instruments?” You asked, just to keep talking to keep you both talking.

“Yes.” Kylo’s hand shook in yours, his fingers tapped notes onto your palm. “I can play piano and violin and you can sing and we’ll entertain guests and you’ll dazzle them with your charm and I will love you so much.”

“I cannot imagine being without you, my Kylo, my dear Kylo.” Your tears returned, speaking no louder than a whisper because after all the screaming, all the shouting, all you wanted to do was whisper. “I didn’t even hesitate to jump off that lifeboat, you know? I could not bear the thought of being without you.”

“Really?” Kylo asked, and you nodded.

“When I saw Dopheld up on the top deck and you were not with him…something came over me and a fierce protectiveness clawed its way through my very soul. I don’t want to live in a world where you are not there to stand beside me.” You realized then that he did not know Dopheld was alive, that he had gotten on one of the lifeboats.

He reached down down down, bent his body and contorted it in a way that he could press his hand to your cheek instead of tapping the notes out on your palm. He cupped your cheek and warmed your frozen face with blue fingers.

“I have seen god and she wears your face,” He whispered, a secret just for you and the ocean, “That is how much you mean to me.”

“I wish I could kiss you, but I –” You tried to reach for him to, but to your panic your arms would not respond. They were too heavy, they would not lift, and you leaned into his hand, eyes pinched tight, “Kylo I c-c-cannot move.”

“You don’t have to, not right now.” He replied, carding his fingers through your hair, “Just stay alive, stay with me, keep breathing, wiggle your fingers, your toes.”

“I’m so cold.” You wanted to whine, wanted to complain, but the words came out devoid of any emotion, simply a fact stated. You were struggling to put together real sentences, the cold sapping away all ability for anything other than breathing.

“They’re coming for us, I swear to you (Y/N).” Kylo mumbled, his words slurring together with great difficulty too. “You know, when all of this is over and we are in our nice soft bedding with our hot tea, I’m going to call my lawyers and we are going to sue the White Star Line blind. How does that sound?”

“M-m-m-marvelous.” You laughed together, trying desperately to stay together, to stay sane. Had that already flown out the window?

“(Y/N) darling I need you to talk to me, okay?” Kylo continued to card through your hair, the chunks of ice melting underneath his touch. “I cannot see you, it is too dark, you must keep talking to me so I know you’re alright.”

“W-what shall I say?” You whispered, voice raspy, throat shredded up from the crying, the screams, the cold.

“Anything, anything at all, please.” He said, nudging your foot, “Wiggle your toes for me.”

“Are – ” You struggled for a long while to get the words out around your chattering teeth. Your tongue filled your mouth but was so heavy it would not cooperate, you felt like you were made of an anchor, wondered how you managed to stay afloat. “Are we going to have to board a cruise ship back home?”

“No, I’ll charter a private plane for us.” Kylo said straight away, “We won’t ever go on a boat again, after we are rescued.”

It was a promise, and Kylo, oh your Kylo. He never broke a promise.

But then, then you remembered the estate. Remembered how beautiful it was with its yellow brick and sprawling gardens. You remembered flowers, memories of peonies, irises, lavender, delphiniums, edgings of bergenia, and foxgloves filled your vision. You remembered the sun shining and sparkling on water.

“Perhaps,” You were delusional, you had to have been, “Perhaps we may get a small boat, one for the lake.”

“The lake?” Kylo asked, confused as he hugged himself around your legs in the same manner you did his.

“P-p-pond, the pond at home.” You corrected, did your best to explain, did your best to keep talking. “When I saw it, I thought oh how nice it would b-b-b-be, to have a rowboat.”

“Tell me about the pond, (Y/N).” Kylo sighed against you, and you swallowed, swallowed again, tried to get the words to come.

“There were swans, and a willow tree. The branches cascaded down into the water, leaves rippling the surface. Oh I’m so cold, Kylo.” You whispered, eyes closing slowly.

“I know, I know but you will be warm soon.” Kylo combed your hair away and cupped your cheek, pinched and prodded at your flesh so blood could rush there, could keep you alive. “There will be blankets and hot beverages and I will kiss you until the blood returns to your cheeks. I will wash away the frost from your eyelashes with my very hands, but you must tell me more about the pond first.”

Before you could though, something knocked against the side of the panel. It was small and light, rocking atop the water.

“What is that, that noise?” You were curious but terrified at the same time.

“I don’t know, I cannot see. Can you reach it?” Kylo replied, his body mostly on the other end of the panel, leaving it up to you to lean over and fish around for the small object.

“It’s a whistle, it’s come up onto the paneling.” You noted, raising it to your lips with numb fingers. You could not muster your lungs to blow and handed it to Kylo with a sigh, “I-I’m afraid I haven’t the breath.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry I’m right here.” He raised the whistle to his lips and blew, took in a deep breath and blew out a long steady tone that carried itself across the water, out to lifeboats far far far in the distance. And then, then he struggled to prop himself up just enough to point, “Look – (Y/N) look, do you see it?”

You could see nothing, nothing at all, until – until!

“Are those…?” You gasped, pushed yourself up enough too, disbelief and shock and the thrill of adrenaline and excitement giving you this much, giving you that much energy to prop yourself up just a few inches off the panel.

“Lights, in the distance. We are saved -- oh blossom, we are saved.” Kylo thudded back down onto the wood, blew and blew and blew the whistle.

“Tell me now, tell me how much you love me now.” You demanded.

“You’re so…” He blew into the whistle, took all the strength he had and blew into that damned whistle, signaling the ship, your savior, your rescuer, “Bossy.”

“I am bossy, and you love me.” You coughed and wheezed, your teeth chattering bones rattling. It was so cold, but you were saved, the ship was coming, it was only a little while longer now.

“I do,” Kylo agreed, his stomach rising and falling rapidly, trying to blow the whistle harder, make the sound louder. “I love you more than anything in this whole world. Do you know, my entire life I dreamt of someone like you? In my darkest hours all I asked for, was someone to love me for me.”

“I – I daresay there are no darker hours than these,” Your body trembled, shock taking over you. “And you have me. I love you Kylo, and I am more grateful for you than for the air in my lungs.”

“There was a little girl, her name is Ruth.” He said apropos of nothing, his voice soft. “You should have seen her. She had her eyes.”

“She can come back with us, if she’s got no one left.” You let your eyes close, for there was little to worry about now. “She can come with us and Rose and Dopheld, when we find them. We will all pile into a plane and fly home.”

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

The next time you opened your eyes, it was not to darkness.

“The sky is pink.” You whispered, for you had no more strength than that, nothing left in you than that.

Kylo had blown the whistle for what seemed like an eternity, and the sounds of a ship had grown louder and louder. You could hear sailors now, could hear the slap of oars of lifeboats heading towards you. You could hear them shouting, calling, begging for survivors to make themselves known, and Kylo had blown his whistle, and they had heard.

You opened your eyes to a pink sky, the night finally over.

Dawn, a sunrise, a new day.

“That it is.” Kylo agreed, and you struggled to open your eyes, struggled to do anything at all as he continued, “The sun has risen, and we have made it. We just have to wait a little longer. We have waited this long, we can wait a little longer.”

You took in the sights around you, and nausea washed over your brain.

“Kylo…Kylo there are so many people.” You watched as their bodies bobbed like buoys, held afloat only by the lifejackets which in the end, did nothing to save them. A sea of white jackets, a sea of bodies carefully being nudged aside, pushed and pulled by the gentle wake of water, water which claimed them.

“Keep your eyes up blossom, keep looking up.” Kylo insisted, tried to comfort you, “Look at the sky, watch the sunrise.”

But you realized, if the sun was up, and you could see the bodies and the sky and the water surrounding you, then you could see him too, and you much rather would see him too.

“No, no I want to look at you. I haven’t seen you in so long.” You shuffled around on the piece of wood, which now in the light of day you saw to indeed be a piece of the ship’s side paneling.

“Move a little to the side, and there we are – ” Kylo said, as you both moved yourselves enough to be in full view of the other. He smiled at you, his lips were cracked and his skin was pale but he was smiling at you. “There you are.”

You drank in the sight of him, of his proud nose, his big ears. How you loved those ears, you began to cry, began to cry just at the sight of him smiling at you, looking so young. His suit was dark with water, and his cheeks were sallow, hair clinging in little strands against his forehead.

He was the most magnificent thing you had ever seen.

“You are so handsome, darling.” You whispered, resting your head against his legs and offering him a smile.

Kylo reached down to you, tucked some of your hair behind your ear in the way you had always done for him, looking at you – really looking at you.

“And you are beautiful, beloved.” He whispered right back.

You laughed then, laughed and cried with tears of joy as the sun rose and the lifeboats of the Carpathia made their way to you, pulling survivors out of the Atlantic water. So many had perished, so many would be lost to the sea forever, but somehow, somehow somehow somehow, you would not be one of them.

And while you wait for your rescue, as the sky bloomed into the pinks oranges yellows purple blues of sunrise, all you can do is laugh and smile at your husband, this man who had once been a stranger now seemed the most important thing you held in your heart. Before all of this, you had met three times; the first, an introduction. The second, a lunch. The third, your wedding.

Could such strong bonds be made in such short a time as a honeymoon aboard the ill-fated Titanic?

Yes.

Yes they could.

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

�� The End.

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

Tagging some friends: @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @goodboybensolo @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan @flapjacques @thepilotanon @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @runhbo @theold-ultraviolence @og-selene

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren reader insert #titanic au #titanic!kylo #edwardian au #historically accurate au #my writing #beautiful beloved #kylo ren smut #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren angst #the end :)

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greycappedjester · 4 years ago

Note

Your Scooby doo au seems fun and fit for this month, I love it :)

Thank you, I am sooooooo very pumped about it. I am now facing my reoccurring problem that, really, I don’t have to set up every story I do as if it’s going to be a series....I am somewhat failing at this so expect some small hints of larger character backstories/ bigger universe.

I also have no self-control and am way too excited about this so here’s one of the first scenes:

-----

“Come on, not again!” Iwaizumi whacked at Oikawa’s legs. “Feet off the dash!”

“Ow,” Oikawa pouted. “Iwa-chan, so cruel! Dashboard as a leg rest is shotgun’s rights. Everyone knows that! This is tyranny! Tyranny!”

“Deal with it.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “I don’t want your weird toes in my face while I’m driving.”

“What makes them weird,” Oikawa complained.

“Agreed, Iwaizumi’s a terrible oppressor,” Kuroo said from the back seat. “Hey, speaking about rights of the oppressed, when are we going to swap out so the rest of us get better leg room.”

“But, I’m navigating!” Oikawa held up his giant, overgrown map like a shield.

“And I don’t trust you driving ever since you asked if putting it in second gear made it swap to a second engine” Iwaizumi said bluntly to Kuroo.

Bokuto blinked. “It doesn’t?”

Iwaizumi sighed. “Plus, I’m the only one that can drive stick.”

“There’s more room in the back,” Suga offered. “If you don’t mind moving around all our stuff.”

“Technically, it’s illegal to ride in the back of a van unless you have a seat belt,” Oikawa commented idly, most likely just to be annoying.

“Practically, there’s no one around for miles so who’s going to stop me,” Kuroo said, gesturing to the large empty roads surrounded by nothing but trees and unkempt fields. He turned back to Suga. “Thanks, though, I’d rather stick here and complain if it’s all the same.”

“I should’ve guessed,” Suga said, shaking his head.

Privately, Iwaizumi thought it said something about his excruciatingly high tolerance of all of his friends that he didn’t even miss a beat as Bokuto--apparently done with quietly fidgeting--decided to hang halfway across the front seat divider to fiddle with the radio.

“Aww, why is it nothing but static,” Bokuto said.

“Because Oikawa’s leading us to the middle of nowhere,” Iwaizumi said.

“This camping road trip isn’t secretly your plan to murder us all, right?” Kuroo poked at the back of Oikawa’s neck until he swatted his hand away. “Because Bo and I were swayed by the notion of friendship and the best of cross country dining and I, for one, will be very put out if I instead become a meal for your sudden and inexplicable cannibal urges.”

Oikawa turned up his nose. “Please, you all know I have better taste than that. The only one of you I’d even consider eating is Suga.”

Suga smiled. “I’m touched.”

Oikawa blew him a kiss.

The engine coughed before revving loudly.

“.....where did you say you found this van again,” Iwaizumi asked.

“Oh, you know….places,” Oikawa answered vaguely, “the point is it was very, very cheap and very roomy. Perfect for a last summer road trip! So, you’re all welcome!”

“If we ever make it to the campgrounds,” Kuroo remarked.

“How far is it,” Bokuto asked, leaning across Kuroo and over the seat to squint at Oikawa’s giant map.

“Um,” Oikawa answered. “It’s….just a little….”

“You know I could just use my phone,” Suga said.

“No, no phones. Finding it on here is half the fun,” Oikawa said. “Look, see, it’s just a couple more hours.”

“That’ll be night,” Iwaizumi said.

Bokuto’s stomach growled.

“Well, maybe we can stop for food before we get there,” Oikawa relented. “Here, take that road, I’ll find something.”

Iwaizumi complied while Oikawa quickly buried himself in the map.

“It’s forking off, right or left,” Iwaizumi asked.

“Left,” Oikawa said decisively.

Iwaizumi blinked, staring as the two roads came closer into view. “Left? Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Oikawa didn’t look up from the map. “Why?”

On the right was a well-paved road leading to clear open fields with signs, trailing freely off into the sunset.

The left was covered entirely in arches of old trees--crooked limbs hanging over the road and blocking out the light so thoroughly that it looked like the black itself was trapping in the cracks that lined muddy pavement. Somewhere, in the distance, there was a shirek that was quite possibly bats.

“Um,” Suga said.

Bokuto inched down and covered his eyes.

“Seriously,” Kuroo asked.

“Left, definitely left,” Oikawa insisted, still not looking up. “Just trust me! I got the map, right?”

Iwaizumi went left.

They went a few more minutes before Oikawa finally glanced up, blinking at the sudden shadows. “Shit, maybe it was right.”

“I hate you,” Kuroo said flatly.

“I’m turning around,” Iwaizumi said.

He jerked the wheel to turn just as the engine spluttered again before letting out a wheeze. The lights went off with a click just as the car dropped down and died.

“Crap,” Iwaizumi muttered, turning the key again only to hear more wheezing. “Oikawa, this van sucks!”

“No, come on, it’s just…,” Oikawa waved a hand. “You can fix it, yeah, Iwa-chan? You can fix anything!”

Iwaizumi gave him a look even as he climbed out to get the service kit from the back and popped the hood.

“I’m looking up directions,” Suga said, already pulling out his phone.

“But….but, map!” Oikawa held it up even as it drooped around him.

“Great,” Kuroo said, “we can use it for shelter when we’re stuck out here and have to take up foraging.”

Bokuto brightened. “Ooh, I’ve got a pocket knife!”

“Yay, we’ll need it to fight off the wolves,” Kuroo said.

“I don’t think it’s that dire,” Suga said, showing them the screen. “There’s a town pretty close by. Can’t find a taxi or a towing service, though. We may have to walk if Iwaizumi can’t fix it. It’s about an hour.”

Kuroo shrugged. “Honestly, Iwaizumi can probably fix it. He’s like the machine whisperer or something.”

“Iwaizumi cannot fix it,” Iwaizumi said from right beside the passenger window and Oikawa jumped. “The transmission’s out.”

“Then, put it back in,” Bokuto suggested.

Iwaizumi stared. “I’m seriously having all of you read a car manual one of these days. It’s broken; we’ll need to go to town for the replacements, if they have anything for something this old. Thing’s from like the late 60s or something.”

Oikawa swallowed, eyes filing with dread. “So, does that mean….”

“Good news, we’re really going to get to explore nature.” Iwaizumi held open the door. “We’re walking.”

-----

A/N: For those wondering the relationship pairings are mostly gen focused (it’s a friendship fic, guys!) with slight Kuroo/ Kenma and even more slight Oikawa/ Iwaizumi because I can’t help myself.

#scooby doo au #hq #my writing #asks

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findingniamho · 4 years ago

Text

New Fic!!

Hey everyone! Hope you’re having a good day! Here is a wedding fic I wrote (and what better day to post it than Simon’s birthday?). You can read it on AO3 here or below the cut. Hope you enjoy it! :)🐟

BAZ We’re going to be late. I keep checking my watch and each time I do, time seems to have jumped forwards at an unnatural rate. I half wonder whether something has somehow managed to sneak into the watch and is now pulling the hands around just to mess with me. Except that the car radio says the same thing. I check again.

“Basilton, if you check that damn watch one more time, I’m throwing it out of the window.” Fiona. She can always be relied upon to treat a situation calmly and delicately. I turn to face the driver’s seat, where she’s sitting in her black dress. She always insisted that she would wear black at my wedding. “To mourn the loss of having you all to myself to annoy. Besides, you’re going to be wearing black, aren’t you?”

I couldn’t argue with that. I’m wearing a black suit with a matching waistcoat and bowtie (as Simon would say, bowties are cool. I prefer the term sophisticated, but there you go). There’s a rose on my lapel (an actual one, the suit itself is plain this time) and, of course, the ring that Simon slipped on my finger a few months ago. The ring that made me believe that all of this was possible again.

It was inevitable, really. All through America, when we were on opposite sides the car or diner tables or motel floors, both of us were silently reaching for the other. It was a relief when we finally got there. When his hand and his gaze could find mine and we could fall in love all over again. I smile down at my hands.

I’m getting married, I say to myself.

I’m getting married to Simon Snow.

SIMON

This is perfect. We’re breezing along in Penny’s car. It’s a hot day so the window’s open and there’s a warm breeze floating though, ruffling my hair. If I close my eyes, I’m transported back to America and we’re cruising along the highway with nothing but blue skies, endless fields and an old radio to keep us company. Penny’s humming Here Comes the Bride and I’m leaning back in my seat, picturing the day ahead. We’ll arrive first and get into the chapel. It’s the same one that Baz’s parents got married in. All the Pitches have gotten married there. That’s gonna be me soon. A Pitch. Simon Grimm-Pitch. I never thought I’d see the day. I’m going to have a name with something attached to it. Sure, the things attached might be villainy and dark magic, but it’s also attached to a family. I’m going to officially be part of a family. Of course, Penny, Shepard and even Agatha feel like family to me but now I’m going to know what it’s like to have a mother and a father. Sitting around a dinner table at Christmas, small squabbles that are forgotten soon after, family jokes that no one else quite gets. All of that is just at the end of this car ride, along with Baz.

Baz, who saved me from the mage.

Baz, who saved me from myself.

Baz, with his grey eyes and sarcastic smile and not-quite-right nose. Who loves me, all of me.

I sit further back, putting my arms behind my head. My wings and tail are spelled away for now, but we’re bringing them back for the ceremony. Baz said that if he was marrying me, he wanted to marry all of me. That’s also another reason why Baz will be the one walking down the aisle towards me; I don’t want anyone unconscious at my wedding.

Here Comes the Bride stops abruptly and Penny exclaims: “Simon! You’ll crease your suit!”

“Argh! Sorry, Pen.”

“That’s okay, Simon.”

A sit back up and she glances at me for a moment before turning to face the road again. I haven’t seen her smile like that in a long time. I think she’s more excited than me about all this, really. She and I spent hours making her car clean enough so that I could sit in it in my suit. She’s wearing a yellow dress, similar to the one that Baz nicked for her when we were running out of money and time. She worried about me a lot, before. She and Baz both did. I try not to think about those times too much. I’ll take the time to unpack and deal with those memories one day, but for now, I’m content to just sit here and natter with Penny.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?”

Penny’s eyes keep firmly fixed on the road.

“I don’t know, maybe.” She’s paying extra-close attention to her mirrors as we change lanes.

“What about Shep?”

“You’re wondering if I think that Shep would get married?”

“No! Well, yes. To you.”

A pause. Then, “Don’t be absurd! We’ve only known each other a few months. And he probably wouldn’t be interested in me anyway.”

She shakes her head as I’ve seen her shake it many times before, like she’s trying to throw an idea out of her brain. I smirk at her.

“You hesitated.”

“Because I was thinking it through!”

I raise an eyebrow, Baz style. “So, it was worth thinking about?”

She’s going red. Interesting. “You know well enough that it’s important to consider every eventuality, Simon. Anyway, this is your wedding day, not mine.”

“I would point out that you’re changing the subject, but you’re right.” I turn to look out at the window again, my thoughts turning back to the day ahead and I smile. “It is.”

AGATHA

This is probably the most exercise that I’ve done since I was at school, where I spent most of my time running with Simon from whatever happened to be chasing him that day. All day, Shepard and I have been loading things from his truck into the hall opposite the chapel and then putting them out: streamers, tablecloths that complement the napkins, speakers for the band, glasses, champagne to go in the glasses, cutlery (which Shepard kept putting out wrong), centrepieces, balloons and loads of other wedding stuff. We’ve been here all morning and we’re still nowhere near done. It makes me wish that I hadn’t left my wand at home.

I plonk yet another box of plates on the table closest to the door and survey the room. It does look pretty good, I have to admit. I reckon even mother will approve. Everything is white and gold, and the place settings look spectacular. Streamers are hanging from the ceiling and the sunlight that streams through the window glints off the glasses, making them sparkle. I smile as I look over to the table to where Simon and Baz will sit later today as a married couple, next to Penny – who’s been made “best woman” – and Baz’s parents. I expect a part of me to be sad that Simon will be sitting there next to someone who isn’t me. But instead, there’s a calm in me, a peace I haven’t felt since, well, ever. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m truly where I belong. Not at Watford, pretending to care about being a good Mage. Not in California, pretending to care about levelling up and changing the world. But in between, actually caring about these people who now surround me.

I think deep down, I’ve known for a long time that this is how all this would end. And Merlin, aren’t I glad.

“Agatha!” calls Shepard.

“Coming!” I yell back. I take one last look at the empty, quiet room before stepping back out into the sun.

***

We’re nearly ready now. I’m changed into my bridesmaid’s dress (Baz’s siblings and I will all wear matching pale pink) and I’m standing outside the chapel, putting together confetti baskets for the children. Shepard comes around the corner to help, phone in hand. He’s changed, too. It’s a strange sight, Shepard in a suit. He holds up the phone.

“That was Simon. They’re nearly here.”

My stomach flutters nervously. “Are we ready?”

“All set! Nice job, Agatha.”

“Thanks. You too.”

We sit in silence for a moment. Shep’s restless, he keeps fidgeting, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just a bit nervous I guess.”

I look up at him, where he’s squinting into the late May sun, still not staying still.

“Why? You realize you’re not getting married, right?” He goes a bit red at that. Honestly, I’m surrounded by fools. First Simon and Baz, now Shepard and Penelope. It almost makes me wished that I’d stayed in California, just to avoid all these will-they-won't-they shenanigans. Almost.

“Well, I guess that I don’t really feel like I fit in here. I’m going to be the only Talker, the only Normal, at this wedding.”

That’s true, I guess. Some of Baz’s family were a bit funny about letting him come. Some things never change, I guess. But he has saved their lives several times, in suppose. In America, and after.

“Baz and Simon wanted you here, Shepard. They care for you, very much. As do I. And Penelope. Once you’ve survived a crisis at Watford, you’re bonded for life, I guess.”

He takes a deep breath, then smiles quietly down at me. “Yeah, you are.”

He looks back up the road, to where we parked the truck this morning, along with some of the things for the wedding. The planners have packed up and gone now, so it’s just sitting there by itself. Shepard points a thumb over his shoulder. “Hey, so there’s one more box in the back. Feeling strong?”

I flex my non-existent biceps. “Of course.”

I stand up and together we walk back to the truck.

SIMON

As we pull up to the chapel, I can sense that something’s wrong. The air is jumpy and static, and there’s a funny smell coming from somewhere. It’s too sweet, like that time that I stuffed 20 marshmallows into my mouth (Baz dared me, so it was justified). Next to me, Penny starts sneezing.

“Pen?”

When she turns to me, I see that her eyes are streaming. “Simon! It’s – achoo – it’s-.” But then she’s cut off my several more sneezes before she can speak. Her voice is hoarse, like the words are trapped in her throat. “Pixie dust.”

“Pixie dust?”

“I’d know that smell anywhere,” she wheezes, before sneezing several more times. There must be loads of it to make her react like this. Outside, I notice that several of our guests are here: some of Baz’s family, the Bunces and Agatha’s parents are all gathered outside the chapel. And all of them are sneezing.

“Stay here.” I slide out of the car to investigate. As I approach the crowd, Shepard and Agatha emerge from it. Both of them are changed for the ceremony and Agatha’s dress ripples out behind her as she runs urgently towards me.

“Simon!” Agatha exclaims.

“What’s going on?” I ask, looking between Agatha, who seems to be holding back tears and Shepard, whose face is drawn and worried.

“We were setting up,” Agatha starts, voice shaking, “when we realized that there was one more box to unpack, so we went to the truck to get it. We figured that it was for the chapel, not the hall because everything had already been set up in there. But when we opened it up, it… it…”

“It blew up,” Shepard finishes for her.

“It blew up?”

“Kaboom.” He gestures with his hands. “I think it was an invisible box that an ogre that I met in the Andes planted on me because I accidentally used his toothbrush.”

“That’s gross,” Agatha mutters. He ignores her. “They’re tricky things, come in and out of sight as they please. I thought it was just another box of wedding things.”

“So now there’s tonnes of pixie dust everywhere. It’s fine in smaller quantities but this-.” She sneezes. “It’s not good, Simon.”

Shepard puts an arm out to the sneezing guests. “We told them to wait outside. We don’t want them to get any closer but there’s nowhere else for miles where we could go to get help.”

“Is Baz here yet?”

“No, he said that he and his aunt are running late. He was super stressed out.”

Okay, at least Baz is safe. Typical him, getting so caught up about punctuality though. I would laugh about it if my wedding wasn’t on the verge of being ruined. I look around at our guests. Baz’s relatives stand in small, scattered circles. Penny’s mum has one protective arm around a girl (Priya, I think) and is sneezing into the elbow of the other. In fact, everyone is sneezing uncontrollably. Everyone, except...

I turn to Shep. “How come you’re ok?”

He shrugs. “Guess it only affects magickal folk.”

That explains me, then. I turn towards Agatha. “Get the guests into the reception hall, me and Shep will go into the chapel to try to clear up. Right?”

Shepard nods. “Right.”

Agatha sneezes again, setting off into the crowd. But then she stops and turns. “You’ll get your wedding, Simon. I promise. You’ve given so much to the world; it’s time you got something in return.”

“Thanks, Agatha.” I nod, unable to say anything more around the lump that’s just come to my throat. She smiles with quiet understanding before starting to herd the guests across the road. That’s when I notice how bad the stench is again. I cover my nose with my arm to try to block it out.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” I say to Shepard. My voice comes out muffled through the fabric. “We’ll see if Penny can do anything about this.” I flap my other arm around, trying to waft the sickly-sweet scent away. “Then we’ll try to clean up.”

“You got it, boss.”

Then we head towards Penny’s car where she is (still) sneezing.

BAZ

I knew it. We’re late. As Fiona turns down the road that leads to the chapel, I squint to look ahead to the entrance, where there are only a couple of people hanging back outside. Everyone else must already be inside, waiting for me. Brilliant. As we get closer, I see that it’s Simon and Shepard, standing by Bunce’s car.

That’s odd.

Fiona parks at the opposite side of the road, remaining silent. Fiona’s never silent. I think that she can sense that something’s wrong, too. There’s a strange smell in the air. She lets me get out by myself to see what’s going on. As I approach Bunce’s car, Simon and Shepard turn to me. They’re both dressed ready for the ceremony, Simon in a suit that complements mine. When I look at him, his eyes light up and he smiles.

“Baz!”

It’s still strange, sometimes. To hear Simon say my name with anything other than contempt or anger. To hear it with a kind of soft, private joy that warms my heart each time I hear it. All that time at Watford, I always dreamed of this day. Not my wedding day, specifically (although that daydream did sometimes sneak up on me when I wasn’t paying attention), but the day when Simon said my name and it meant something different. The day that those unremarkable blue eyes looked into mine with affection, not violence. The day that his hands unclenched from their fists and reached out to hold mine. And to see him, now, here, knowing that later that same mouth that used to yell and scream at me would be saying “I do” and kissing me? I remember when all of this was just a dream from the other side of the room. But now we’re here.

I smile back at him.

“Hello, love.”

SIMON

He looks good. He always looks good, the tosser. His hair flows freely down to his shoulders and his deep-water grey eyes are shining as his lips quirk up to smile at me. That smile’s going to be gone pretty soon. I brace myself.

“Baz, we’ve got a problem.”

As I explain the situation to him, I watch his face fall and it breaks my heart. But his eyes remain steeled with a fierce determination. I’ve seen that expression before. He’ll stop at nothing to save this.

“So Shep and I are going to go into the chapel-.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, Baz! It’s too dangerous.”

“This is my wedding too, so we’re going to save it together, okay?” He folds his arms and sets his mouth in a firm line. “I’m not changing my mind. It’ll be much quicker with the three of us.” I roll my eyes. “Okay fine. Penny?”

Penny holds out her wand. “Quickly, before I start sneezing again. Okay. You’ve gone... nose blind!”

Baz wrinkles his nose. “Febreze, Bunce?”

“The Normals quote it,” she shrugs, then sneezes again.

“How come you seem to have it worse than everyone else?” I ask.

Penny somehow manages to glare and sneeze at the same time while grounding out one word: “Trixie.”

Ah, that explains it. Penny’s roommate used to spread it all over their room. It must make her less tolerant of it than everyone else. It was never as much as this, though. Penny stops sneezing long enough to fix all three of us with a fierce look.

“Now, you three had better sort this out and have the best wedding day ever, okay?” She says it like a threat, but she means well.

“Thanks, Pen.”

“You’ll look after them, won’t you Shep?”

He grins and gives her a weird kind of salute. They look at each other for a moment, and something passes between them. Then Shepard leans on the car door. I think he’s trying to look casual, but it just looks like he’s forgotten how to stand up properly. Merlin, is that what I look like when I think I look cool? Crowley.

“Shepard,” Penny says.

“Yes?”

“Stop leaning against my car.”

“Sorry.” He straightens up, arms flapping. I can see Baz and Penny both trying desperately not to roll their eyes. “Well, we should go.”

“I’ll be waiting in the hall,” says Penny. “Good luck, and be careful.”

“Don’t worry, Pen. We’ve got this.”

We wave her off, then head towards the doors to the chapel.

“Right,” I say. “Let’s see how much of a disaster we’re dealing with this time.”

Shepard looks up at the chapel, squinting in the sun. “Here we go again.”

Baz takes my hand and squeezes it. He leads me towards the chapel. “Here we go.”

BAZ

Shepard and Wellbelove weren’t exaggerating. It’s everywhere. The smell’s worse in here, and despite it being dampened slightly by Bunce’s Febreze spell, it still makes me want to gag. Plus, there’s the sight of it, which makes my eyes water. Why does everything to do with pixies have to be so sparkly and bright? It looks a lot like tastelessly pink glitter. Shepard emerges from the alcove off the entrance with two brooms and a dustpan and brush. Simon claps his hands together, then winces like he realises how idiotic that looks. I shake my head, rolling my eyes. Honestly, I must have truly lost my marbles to still want to marry him of all people. But here we are. Maybe I’m the idiot.

“Right.” Simon clears his throat. “Shepard, if you take over there,” he gestures towards the alter, “and Baz and I start this end, then we’ll work across. You take the middle and we’ll do the sides.”

“Cool.” Shepard hands one of the brooms to Simon and the dustpan and brush to me. He starts walking down the aisle, whistling like he’s just going out to mow the lawn, not sweep up the remains of a magickally explosive box and its overly sparkly contents.

“Thanks,” I whisper to Simon. I don’t think either of us wants to walk down the aisle until the time comes. He nods in silent understanding, which is his way of saying you’re welcome. I kneel on the ground, rolling up my sleeves and wincing. This is going to ruin my very nice, very expensive suit. But my priority right now is to save our wedding.

I look up at Simon. “Let’s get to work.”

SIMON

We work in comfortable silence, me sweeping and Baz brushing dust into his dustpan and occasionally getting up to empty it into the bin. We’re both filthy, but I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. There’s a lump in my throat as I continue to sweep the dust into a pile. I look at the aisle Baz should be walking up; at the alter we should be standing at; at the doors we should be walking out of hand in hand, as husbands. I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. It just feels like this always happens when I’m around. Like I’m the one causing it, with my streak of bad luck that follows me around like a shadow. I should’ve somehow known that this would happen, I should’ve warned everyone, should’ve-.

“Simon?”

I look down at where I’ve been very aggressively sweeping pixie dust in no particular direction, causing it to fly up and float around everywhere, including all over Baz. Great.

“Sorry,” I mutter to Baz but don’t move.

He stands. “Simon, what’s wrong?”

His voice is soft, like how he used to speak to me when I would spend my days on the sofa, feeling like nothing was worth getting up for. I shake my head, feeling on the verge of tears. But I have to stay strong. This is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives. The thought makes me start stammering.

“I-it’s just. I can’t. I. It’s that...”

Baz’s face tells me to take my time. He knows that words are still a bit tricky for me.

I take a shaky breath. “This isn’t how this was supposed to go. It’s all ruined.”

I start crying proper then. “And I can’t help feeling like this is all my fault, like it is every bloody time.”

He walks slowly over to me and places both his hands lightly on my shoulders.

“Simon, did you plant an invisible box in the truck that’s been magickally rigged to explode?”

“Well, no, but-.”

“Did you then fill the said box with sickly-sweet scented pixie dust that causes a bout of sneezing fits for any mage that comes near?”

“I guess not.”

“Simon, I know that you think that you somehow caused this, but listen to me when I say that this is not your fault. Growing up, I know you were told that everything was your responsibility but the weight of the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders. You weren’t even there when the box blew up, for Crowley’s sake! This is your wedding day, Simon. When everyone’s supposed to fuss around you and help you because you are special and loved, and I’m not just talking about me.”

“But it’s your day too! We were supposed to say “I do,” and cut the cake, and have our first dance. But instead-.”

“Simon,” he says. One of his hands slides from my shoulder down my arm to take my hand. He holds our clasped hands up and steps closer to me so I have no choice but to look into his eyes. We start turning slowly on the spot, Baz humming a made-up tune as we sway in each other’s arms. Our shoes leave quiet footprints in the dust. The light streaming in from the stained-glass window splashes colour onto us as we step in and out of the darkness and the light. As it lights up half of his face, and half of mine, I remember what today is really about.

It’s his coarse, rough, fire-holder’s hand holding mine and me holding his back.

It’s his soft grey eyes looking into mine and me looking back.

And, as we slow to a stop, his lips kissing mine.

And me, with all the love I have for him, with all that I am, kissing him back.

We’ve been through it all, but we came out the other side together. We can still have perfect moments with each other, even when everything’s gone to shit. This is the beginning of a lifetime of perfect moments.

“Thank you,” I whisper, laying my head on his shoulder.

“Anytime, Simon,” he murmurs into my hair. “Anytime.”

BAZ

For a moment, there’s peace. There’s just me and Simon, and the only sound is our breathing as we hold each other and stay so, so still. Then there’s a clattering and banging from the other end of the chapel and a call of “I’m OK!” from Shepard. I step back, smiling fondly down at Simon.

“We’d better get back to work,” I say.

“Yeah,” he replies, meeting my smile with a stunning one of his own.

I kneel back down and start sweeping more dust into the dustpan. I’m glad when I look up and see Simon sweeping the dust into (much calmer, much more orderly) piles. We’re moving a lot more efficiently now; we can start doing the rest of the chapel soon.

When I next stand up to empty the dustpan, I gasp and yell “Look out!”

Simon turns sharply, startled.

Right into the lit candle behind him. It topples over and the holder cracks in two. The candle rolls across the floor, igniting the dust that still coats the edges of the room. That’s when I learn that there’s one thing that vampires and pixie dust have in common: they’re both extremely flammable.

The flame snakes its way up the walls and curls around the wooden beams in the ceiling. Ash begins to rain down and I cough as the smoke enters my lungs. I can hear a creaking above me and look up just in time to see a beam collapse and begin to hurtle its way down towards where I’m standing. I brace myself for the impact. Great, I think. I’m going to die on my wedding day. I suppose that means my corpse will be well-dressed, at least.

An arm comes around me and I’m tackled to the ground just before the flaming beam hits me. My head smacks into stone as I’m shoved against a wall. A trail of warm, sticky blood trickles from my temple down the side of my face. I don’t dare to open my eyes as I hear the destruction around me roar in my ears, the smell of burning intensifying with the heat. It’s only when I hear eerie silence, like someone’s put a blanket over me, that I open my eyes. I’m met with the sight of Simon’s face scrunched up and inches from mine and his wings spread out behind him, their edges burnt from shielding us from the flame and rubble that rained down upon us.

SIMON

“Simon, love. Open your eyes.”

Baz’s voice is soothing as I slowly blink myself back to here and now. Baz is sitting in front of me. One side of his face covered in blood. He’s sitting in my shadow, which I can see is winged. I try to move my wings but wince in pain. Burnt. I don’t remember the spell wearing off, or saving Baz. I just remember needing to move and then opening my eyes down here. I look behind me at the remains of the chapel. There are bits of rubble and shattered glass everywhere, just like there was in the White Chapel. I did it again.

I start crying, then sobbing, then howling. This is what always happens. This is how this always ends. Magic or not, I always manage to make everything explode around me and take out anyone in my path, including Baz. He’s going to want to leave, I know it. Because I’m a fuckup, as I’ve shown again and again. Because I can’t leave who I was behind. Because-.

This time, it’s Baz’s arm that comes around me to save me. To save me from myself, as he always does.

“I’m here,” is all he says.

I cry even harder into his shoulder.

BAZ

Once we’ve extracted ourselves from the wreckage and established that Shepard’s okay (he is – he heard us from the other end of the chapel and escaped through the other door), Simon and I stand side by side, looking at the burnt remains of the chapel. It’s still smoking slightly, but luckily some of our guests have managed to use It’s raining cats and dogs to put out the rest of the fire and Clear the air to get rid of most of the smoke. It’ll take a little while to repair the damage to the chapel, but it’s nothing that can’t be handled with the combined magic of everyone here.

While everyone sets to work to try to save this wreck of a day, I try to console Simon. He grew up thinking that he was nothing, then the Mage told him that he was everything. He still is everything, to me. It just makes him feel like anything that happens is his fault, like he still has the power to fight whatever gets thrown his way. Over the past few months, he was slowly coming around to the idea that he isn’t responsible for every disaster that he comes across. He was finally starting to realise that his mistakes don’t make him a disaster – they make him human. I put my arm around his shoulder and he leans his head on mine. He stopped crying a few minutes ago but still hasn’t said anything. He breathes quietly next to me and a gentle breeze comes to ruffle his hair.

“What are we gonna do now?”

His voice is tentative, like he’s afraid of the answer. I survey the wreckage again, with the groups of our friends and family gathered around it holding wands, rings and staffs aloft. The air is heavy with magic, and with shouting; the Bunces are running a tight ship. They’re working quickly, but I’m not sure if it’ll be enough. We’ll probably be done by tomorrow, but the chapel and hall are only ours for today.

There’s no way I’m postponing. I know that no matter what, I want to be married by the end of today. Crowley knows we’ve had to wait long enough.

I take Simon’s hand and squeeze it.

“I have an idea.”

SIMON

I have no idea where we’re going. I’ve already asked Baz at least 10 times, and every time he’s just raised an eyebrow and said: “You’ll see.”

He’s lucky I love him because it’s gotten more infuriating each time.

All I know is that he and his aunt went off somewhere and when they came back they were both grinning like maniacs. Then his aunt tossed him her car keys, told him not to wreck the car and we both got in and started driving. We’re going along the main road now, Baz’s eyes bright as we drive along. We’re both filthy: our clothes are ripped and bloodstained, and there are holes in the back of my suit from my wings and tail (which have been spelled away again). There’s still a trail of blood down the side of Baz’s face. I reach out to touch it and his hand gently takes mine and moves it away. He doesn’t let go, though. We stay like that until he has to change gears and he slows down to a stop in front of a gate.

And that’s when I realise where we’re getting married.

In the place where we met as enemies.

In the place where we fell in love.

In the place where I asked Baz to marry me.

Watford.

BAZ

Simon’s smile is one that I’ll never forget. As he gazes up at the gates to Watford, his lips turn up and his eyes shine. The late afternoon sun makes his hair seem to glow, as well as the constellations of freckles on his face, which has blown open into wild, unmistakable joy. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, then turns it towards mine. His cheek catches against the seat, squishing half of his face and rearranging the freckles. It’s adorable.

I mentally capture this moment of him and me, sharing this space alone before we’re going to be surrounded by people again. I capture his smile and his eyes and the feeling of his fingers intertwined with mine as he catches my hand again and the way it feels when the rings on them clink together. Unfamiliar, yet so right at the same time. As if they were always meant to be there. I capture the filth in his fair, and the dots of blood that pepper his cheeks. All of my imperfectly perfect Simon Snow.

I capture his voice as he leans in to whisper to me.

“Come on Baz.” Then he kisses me fleetingly, just once. But Crowley, if it isn’t one of the best of my life. He tugs at my hand.

“Let’s get married.”

SIMON

We walk up to the White Chapel hand in hand. Baz explains that everyone else will be on their way. Apparently, his aunt has a few people who owe her favours who can clean up the chapel. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d just called some people and scared them into helping by threatening to turn them into nine-toed trolls. But the thought’s nice.

As we walk, we talk about our memories of this place: the yew tree where he sent me to wait for Agatha all night, the football pitch where I used to watch him play, the spot where he tried to steal my voice. All of these memories, painful or not, seem so far away now. We were children then, and now we’ve grown up. We’ve changed and grown and laughed and cried alongside each other.

Whether we were fighting or learning or figuring ourselves out, it was always with each other. And now we stand with each other at the door to the White Chapel where everything changed for us. We fall silent when we reach the doors. I squeeze Baz’s hand and he squeezes back.

“I love you,” I say quietly.

“I love you too, Snow.”

Then we don’t say anything else as we sit with our backs against the wall and wait for the world to catch up with us.

BAZ

I stand outside the chapel doors with Father, waiting for everyone else to settle down inside. Wellbelove’s fussing over my siblings a few metres behind us. I can hear Mordelia kicking up a tantrum over having to wear pink. As quiet overtakes the other side of the door, Father turns to me.

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

And I mean it. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Father goes to open the doors.

It was difficult, in the beginning. I knew that he always suspected that I was queer, but we’d never had a frank conversation about it. It was one of the topics that we simply had an unspoken rule to never discuss. It was that, my mother’s death and my vampirism. After returning from America, I realised that if I wanted to fix things with Simon, I needed to find peace with myself first. That involved going to therapy (I agreed that I’d go if Simon did) and telling my family, plain and simple, that I was gay. And that I was dating Simon Snow. At first, Father didn’t say much about it. He spent long hours in the library, looking over family photos and staring out of the window. Eventually, he showed me a photo of my mother.

“This is the last picture that was taken of her before she died,” he said, holding it up. Then he started talking about how much he missed her and still does, how he wished that he had been with her when it happened. How hard it was to look at me sometimes because of how much I looked like her. Then I told him about how Simon had caught me in her office looking at a picture of myself that she’d kept with her. How that had been the start of something. I told him about that Christmas and America and all that Lamb had told me about my kind. I told him how it made me unsure about many things but the only thing I was still sure about was how I felt about Simon. Little by little, day by day, Father began to come around to the idea of Simon and I being together. Sure, it took a lot of work. There were good days and bad days. But now here he is, about to walk me down the aisle towards a boy, not a girl as he probably envisioned for me one day. But there’s genuine love in his eyes as he says: “I’m proud of you, Basilton. And your mother would be too.”

“Thank you.” I’m too choked up to say anything else.

He swings open the doors and leads me down the aisle.

SIMON

It’s work not to turn around when I hear Baz approaching. I smile, knowing that I only have to be without him for a few moments more. (Also I can’t turn around for fear of knocking someone over with my wings). Baz steps up beside me glances sideways, grinning.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” I smile back.

We turn to face Penny’s mum, who agreed to officiate. As the ceremony starts, I look around at us. At our wedding. It’s not exactly how I pictured it: Baz and I are both still pretty filthy and the location is different but it’s almost better. This place holds painful memories, yes, but this chapel is where things changed for both of us. And we’re both still here, despite it all, agreeing to spend the rest of our lives together.

“Do you, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, take Simon Snow to be your husband?” Baz takes both of his hands in mine. “I do.”

“And do you, Simon Snow, take Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch to be your husband?”

And I’ve never been surer of anything than when I say: “I do.” Baz slips a ring onto my finger and I put one onto his. It’s strange how the feeling of his cold hands in mine is so familiar, yet what we’re doing is so unfamiliar at the same time. I guess everything we do now is going to be unfamiliar because it’ll be the first time that we do it as a married couple. Or maybe nothing will feel different at all. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. We always do.

Penny’s mum spreads her arms wide. “I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss.”

In the moment before Baz and I kiss, something makes me cast a glance towards the back of the chapel. Three women are standing there: Ebb, Baz’s mum and a woman with blonde curly hair that I vaguely recognise as the girl in a photo that Agatha showed me once.

My mother.

Baz follows my gaze and I have no words for the expression on his face when he sees his mum for the first time since her death. Then I blink and they’re gone.

Baz and I kiss, the first of many kisses that we’ll have: that day as we celebrate with our family and friends, as we walk (just the two of us) by the lake after the party, tomorrow when we wake up next to each other at the beginning of our life together. And each and every day after that.

When we break apart to face our congregation, I think I see the ends of a pair of glittering green wings leaving the chapel. And a voice that follows them. A voice that sounds almost exactly like chiming bells...

I silently thank Liliana, granter of wishes, for letting those who care about us see us one more time.

Then I take Baz’s arm and we leave the chapel, smiling and waving at everyone. Penny tackles us in a tear-soaked hug, then Agatha joins, and Shep. I hear Baz’s aunt whoop and see his dad give us both a smile. It’s the start of a spectacular celebration.

A few hours later, I take Baz into my arms and flap my wings.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

My husband responds by kissing me.

And away we fly.

#happy birthday simon snow #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #penny bunce #agatha wellbelove #shepard from omaha #my fic

18 notes · View notes

scenarihoes · 6 years ago

Note

it looks like your requests are still open, so I’m comin in hot wiiiith some spicy nonsense: how do you feel about a shinsou x reader nsfw scenario? shinsou’s got dirty-talking dom vibes to me and i’m weak 😩💦 if there happens to be orgasm denial/edging and/or overstimulation involved i would love you forever, just so you know 😉😏💜

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOF

HUUUUGE AUTHORS NOTE! PLEASE READ!

ok so. only bout half this fic is finished LOL i really really really wanted to finish all of it, but i really just couldnt bring myself to.. it’s like, done? but not entirely polished yknow? that being said please excuse typos and grammar issues in the second half.. again, im really sorry!

please enjoy what i have regardless! i promise its still, how do i say,

hot.

—————

Hour One.

With narrowed eyes and lips pressed into a tight line, irritation makes it hard for Shinsou to shove the key into the lock properly. He’s glaring at you from the corners of his vision, taking in your smug posture and the corners of your lips upturned mischievously. It’s just barely past 10 pm and he can already feel the draw pulling him in with every step you take despite his annoyances.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” he says dully, hanging his coat on the rack while the door clicks shut. His fingers work his tie off his neck. “I should have known something like this would happen.”

You hum, bemused. “I’m afraid I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Really? You were practically eye-fucking me the whole night in front of everyone.”

“It’s not like they were watching me. All eyes were on you.”

“Exactly.” Shinsou grunts as he slips his shoes off and nudges them on the mat with his toes. “You wear my brain out, acting like that just for a reaction.”

You bring a hand on to your mouth, a fake gasp sounding. “Why I would never!”

Choosing the perfect moment, you bend down and contort yourself just right to bare your thong for him. Your short dress offers a spectacular view, along with your V neck that cuts just a little bit too low. He knew you’d pick that one, he really did. It always got him a little hot under the collar and you took every chance you could to exploit that little fact.

Before you can even start to pull your heels off, bend over with one hand pressed against the door while the other words at the straps, you feel palms suddenly on either side of your hips. Instantly you’re grinning ear to ear.

“You’re always doing things like this to me in public,” he speaks like it doesn’t matter to him, but it does. He’s so bothered and it’s exactly what you wanted. “Making me work just to keep a straight face. You’re lucky I didn’t drag you into the bathroom and make you walk back out full of my cum.”

“You would have liked that, wouldn’t you have?” Dangerous, devious, you press both hands flat to the wall and rut yourself against him. When he responds equally as lustful, you can’t help but snicker at him. “I thought you said you were tired.”

“I said you wear my brain out, not that I was tired. Besides, do you honestly believe you deserve to just get a pass for tonight?”

Already Shinsou’s half hard against you, tenting in his formal pants. The grip on your waist tightens and while usually this would be the moment he pulls away with irritated grunt, he holds fast. He lets himself grind against you in such a easy, languid pace. Your breath catches in your throat when one of this hands wanders away and finds itself grasping your forearm. Without much time to brace yourself your hand is yanked from the wall and brought behind your back, then your other arm follows suite. He nudges your chest to the wall and clicks his tongue when you giggle.

“Don’t you think you’re enjoying this a little too much?” He taunts.

“I would enjoy it a whole lot more if you started actually touching me.”

Suddenly you’re shoved forward, cheek hitting the wall. He holds your arms taut behind your back. “What did I say about getting off easy?” He damn near growls. “During the downtime between your little stunts I had a lot of time to think about what I planned doing to you once we got home.”

“You fantasized about me while conversing with your friends? Now, what would they do if they found out everyone's favorite hero had such a dirty mind?”

His hand leaves your waist and a sharp smack is delivered to your ass. You hiss between your teeth as he brings his lips close to your ear. “Probably the same thoughts they’d have should they find out said hero’s wife is such a cock-hungry slut.”

Shinsou can feel a shiver rippling through you while his teeth clip and graze the skin of your neck, one hand strong enough to hold both your arms tucked behind your back while other starts to explore further. His broad palm hovers only an inch above your skin and he makes sure you’re aware of the way he just barely misses your breasts. Only when you try to arch into his palms does he pull away and instead find his hand catching your throat.

“You’re awfully impatient. You’ve had the whole night to prepare for this and you’re already rushing?”

“I haven’t been preparing anything. I’ve been waiting. I’ve had to wait the whole night for this,” Over your shoulder, you glance at him deviously. “Waited the whole night just for you fuck me. You should consider yourself lucky.”

Shinsou’s eyebrows raise like he can’t actually believe what you’re saying. It only takes a moment of processing before the lights of his eyes darken, his grip tightening, and you nearly wheeze at his thumb and index alone cutting your breath off. “I’m lucky?”

Despite your position you still giggle. “I could have done so much worse.”

Something in him shakes, and then ruptures. It’s nothing in anger, or disdain, but it’s not soft either. He nearly let’s a growl leave him but for the sake of control, he withholds it.

“Worse?” Your body is pushed forward and held even tighter to the wall. “Believe me, I’m going to show you worse.”

————-

Hour two.

Funny how quickly everything can change in the blink of an eye. Seed to flower, sun to rain, spring to winter.

Deviosity to utter and entire frustration. Neediness, too. Neediness above all else.

Your back would press flat to to his chest if not for the way you fervently arch away from him. Lips on your neck to suck dark marks into your skin, one hand eagerly fondling the mounds of your breast while the other makes sure to pay close attention in making sure the vibrating wand is pressed nice and tightly to your clit. Squirming is futile with the unrelenting vibrations- he’s got you stuck fast in your place. From the moment you were trapped against the wall by the frame of him, a promise to take you apart slipping from his lips, you were silently begging for something more than just the feeling of his clothed cock pressed between your legs.

Even with the rush, he was sure that every step he made guiding you to the bedroom was calculated. The dress was gone long ago and abandoned onto the floor like it hadn’t cost you almost half a grand. Your heels followed suit but you didn’t mind that loss- they were starting to hurt your feet, after all. Your unsurprising lack of undergarments drove him insane but the man was able to hold back his ferocious need to destroy you right there.

He even approached it with humor. From the closet he retrieved a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs you’d bought as a joke. You watch in both anticipation as well as disbelief when he approached, ordered you to put your hands behind your back. Of course you obliged without too much tenacity. Make me, you wanted to tell him with a snarky grin, but the gleam in his eyes warns you that he just may. With ease he clips your arms behind your back, but the metal isn’t slapped around your wrists. He connects the cuffs on your upper arms and lets the fur sit snug, high enough on your forearms so that your chest is beautifully pushed outwards.

“Since you’re so eager to show all this off,” he’d remarked as he climbed behind you, kept you on your knees and used his own to ensure your legs were spread. “Then you shouldn’t have a problem with this.”

The moment he brought a vibrator and pressed it between your legs, you knew you were finished. He himself knew it all, could count in his head how long it would take before you met your resolve and melted into a puddle of need in his hands. As he looks at you, nudges the vibrator just a little higher up so you buck your hips with a whine, he congratulates himself. It makes him laugh, unbeknownst to you.

An entire evening of being patted on the back for his latest success and this was his crowning moment.

“Feel good?” He coos in a facade of sweetness. He kisses trails up and down the sides of your throat, eyes shut serenely. You whimper in his hold and a sickening grin plays on his lips, only to grow with every rattle of the cuffs. The sound reaches him like an upcoming victory, reminds him that you’re at his mercy all over again. How can he not get drunk off the feeling?

How can he not nibble your skin and roll the head of the toy against your clit just to make you gasp so cutely? You’re already shaking and it spurs him on even further, then suddenly he rolls the vibrator once more and your voice jumps an octave as it presses against your nerves at just the right spot. He holds it there, let’s you thrash and squirm as it almost becomes too much even before it’s entirely begun. You’ve yet to come even once, let alone feel the rapture he’s planning to bestow upon you.

“Fuck, Hitoshi-” Your head tips back. “Fuck-”

This is his favorite part. He waits like a predator, listens to the ruggedness of your breathing, watches your hands curl into tight, useless fists. You’re already close and it makes his skin buzz as his plans start to unravel right there on the bed. Your back arches, you thrash, he waits for you to tense and then it’s gone. He tears the toy away from your rolling hips before you can reach that perfect high.

Your reaction is feral and it lights him aflame. Aggravation and desperation looks so much better on you than any whorish dress you could ever even hope to taunt him with.

Hands fisting and unfisting, trapped between your bodies, all you can do is curse his name while your release begrudgingly climbs back down. Shinsou laughs like a sadist and shifts demeanors as though he’s a damn actor on broadway- one moment someone and the next a different person entirely. The laughter dies into soft hums, his grin snuffs into a gentle smile and he kisses the hickies on your neck and below your ear.

Soft voice, tongue lapping at your skin. “Were you close?”

All you can do is groan in response, bothered at the loss of your orgasm. He tsks, reaches up and grips a hand to your throat. Someone else, now.

“You should have expected this.”

“God, please, I was right there.” Your voice shakes and it only excites him. It makes him want to push you even further, but it’s all reruns. He’s taken you apart time and time again to the point where he’s turned you into the defination of the word mess, but damn if it isn’t fun to pretend it’s all shiny and new.

“That’s the point.” He doesn’t want you to come down too far, so he turns vibrator down to the lowest setting and offers you just the softest of pleasure. You take it like a luxury, grinding down against feeling instantly to your heart's content. With the low setting, it’s nowhere near enough stimulation to get you off but fuck if you won’t try your hardest to get there anyways. Like a challenge, Shinsou welcomes it, grins against your skin and keeps his palm to your neck while you roll your hips.

When you find that you really can’t meet your end, he eats up the frustrated whine you offer.

Your begging comes as natural as day to night. It’s not babbles, you haven’t been pushed far enough. He snickers to himself. Yet.

“Hitoshi,” You whine, sweet and submissive. “Please let me cum.”

“Oh?” He breathes against your shoulder. “Maybe I will, just to watch you cry for me.” He throws you a line with evil intentions. “Tell me, are you sorry for what you’ve done?”

“Yes,” The depth of your voice let’s him know that you think this is all there is. An apology, an empty promise. “I’m sorry baby, please let me cum, I won’t do it again. I want to cum so bad…”

Hook, line, and sinker.

Shinsou laughs.

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

———-

hour three.

it’s amazing just how much self control he’s gained over the years. had he been just a bit younger, he would have pounced the moment he pressed your body to the mattress and let the blankets fall in heaps around the edge. but, he’s glad he’s older now. glad he’s learned to really stop and smell the roses.

glad he’s learned to hold back just to take the back seat view as you practically fall apart in front of him.

with your face buried in your pillow, some of your pretty keens are slightly muffled, which is mildly disappointing. shinsou can deal with it, though. after all he’s much more interested in the way you’re still trying to chase your long since held off orgasm.

he’s still behind you but his demeanors had some altercations. he’s centered now, refocused. his hand drags the ever buzzing toy up and down your clit while you feebly try to match the pace with the rocking of your hips. he can’t imagine it’s comfortable with your arms trapped behind your back but hey, you’ve earned that. if anything it just enforces the idea that it’s exactly what it always was: punishment.

‘look at you, you’re a mess.’ he hums like he’s bored. ‘running your mouth about how my friends would feel if they found i was dirty minded, look at yourself.’

‘please-‘

‘don’t bother. you’ll cum when i say you can cum. until then, be good.’ he holds the toy straight to your clit and clicks it up a notch, tilts his head, watches when your hands curl into fists and your hips jerk. ‘think you can do that for me, hm? be good?’

you nod frantically and shake like a leaf. ‘y-yes si- fuck! yes sir!’

sir. it sounds nice in his head, he smugly leans back, that sadistic energy he started with resonating within him like a returning storm. he chuckles low in his chest and leans back so leisurely you’d nearly miss his erection should you sneak a glance.

he jumps the vibrator up to the highest sitting and he can’t hold back a grin when you arch and sob, rut your hips and still yourself until you’re finally climbing back up to that incredible edge. he lets you do it, too. he lets you moan and whimper and cry his name until you’re right there all over again. you’re trembling so hard it’s a wonder you don’t bust to pieces right there. your voice leaps higher, higher, you’re right there and pressing your clit flush against the buzzing sensation-

the pitiful scream that tears from your throat when he turns the toy off almost makes him feel bad.

almost.

tears spring from your eyes and he knows he’s finally won. you don’t even bother begging him at that point, face buried and cries muffles in the damp fabric of your pillow. it pulls at his heart in a strange way, but not enough for him to give in. not that easily. he just needs some assurance, a little confirmation that you’re his good girl and that you’ve learned your damn lesson.

he comforts you, pets his hands down the sweating curve of your spine and back up. you’re writhing in absolute need, aching for a release he’s been denying you for the better half of three hours. a deep, pensive sigh leaves him.

‘look at me,’ he says, and you do so without question. you look pitiful. crazy to think sex could turn you so pathetic before him. he runs his fingers through your hair, lets his eyes fall half lidded. ‘are you sorry?’

a hiccup leaves you as you nod. he nods as well.

‘and you’ve learned your lesson?’

‘yes sir.’ even through your choked sobs, you manage a steady voice long enough to answer him. it impresses him, brings a swell to his chest.

———-

hour four.

very gingerly, he nudges the toy against your clit and turns it on the lowest setting. you’re so over sensitive that you hiss through your teeth, eyes slipping shut, hips instantly rocking back against the familiar feeling. shinsou wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t trust him to let you follow through his time.

‘you wanna cum?’ he murmurs, and you nod, still trying to catch your breath while the intensity is low enough.

ah, what the hell.

he flicks it’s to the middle setting and sits back to watch you gasp and start to shake all over again. he torments you with that low vibration, lets you pretend to fuck yourself on the toy, rocking back and forth and stilling as it finds the perfect nerves to harass.

though it’s not the intensity you’d been begging for, he can see that it’s enough for you. your whimpers, curling toes and fingers, stuttering hips and twitching knees. you approach your end as quickly as it fell moments ago, but this time, shinsou doesn’t back down.

he lets you find the rise and the peak, and finally, finally the fall. god, how you crash around him. sputtered and broken moans spill from your throat like prayers, his name joining the mix in a beautiful chorus as you arch your back and rut your hips in tiny circles. you’re trembling but you’re still, the toy buzzing against your clit while your nerves travel in shivering waves of pleasure through the course of your body.

you’re babbling something through your ogasm as you ride it out, and only when he stops to listen does he really grasp what you’re subconsciously saying.

‘thank you sir, thank you, thank you, oh f-fuck, nggh- thank you,-‘

still rocking to ride the last of the euphoria out, shinsou feels pity in his chest when he gets the perfect idea. that same feeling when you’d first started to cry before him rises like a monument within him, but it’s not enough to deter his intentions.

you’ve still got a lesson to learn, after all. a little bit of tears was no promise.

as the last of your pleasure ebbs away, he remains where he is. he gets to watch like a spectator as your writhes of pleasure alternate and transform into a struggle to get away, hips cantering forward to escape the toy still remains ever pressed to your clit.

‘please- i can’t-!’ you gasp through your struggles to escape the pleasure, but he works you even deeper, works you ever harder. he jumps the intensity to high and holds your hips with his free hand just to keep you still while he presses it exactly where you can feel it the most. there’s nothing you can do but take it, the mind numbing pleasure, all too much as you’re forced to the edge all over again.

‘you can.’ he states as he watches. you arch and cry out through whimpered gasps, eyes squeezed shut, body tensed and stiff, you’re pushed into another orgasm before you even realize it. sharp keens make him wonder if you’re in pain, metaphorical stars dancing behind your eyelids. he pets you again as if he’s not the source of your agonizing pleasure.

‘no more, no more,’ you try to roll on your side to deter the feeling but shinsous got you in such a tight grasp that you can’t even rock your hips anymore. while your upper half is free to struggle in vain, your lower half is at his mercy. he makes sure you’re feeling it all as he lowers it to medium, only to jump it back to high when you’re finally able to start coming down.

———

hour four.

once more an onslaught of tears leak down your cheeks as incorrect please leave you. you cum again, and again, and again while he keeps his grip tight on your waist. everything feels like its too much, you’re shaking too much, feeling too much-

you cum again and something about the way you openly sob into the pillow makes him consider the simple concept of mercy. you’re so spent he knows you’re going to be sexed-out for the rest of the week, which in some ways, sucks, but this is too good to miss out on. the entire night had been perfect from the moment you boldly decided to tease him in plain sight to the instant you were beneath him torn apart by his very hands.

a deep breaths leaves him. you’ve learned your lesson.

‘good girl,’ he says, but he isn’t sure if you can hear him. he lowers the setting to medium, and then low, let’s you rut off the last of your final orgasm before he grants you the bliss of turning it off entirely. the very second you find yourself offered mercy, you turn to putty.

no energy, no drive, nothing left as you tip over onto your side and shake with the aftershocks. your arm tucks itself beneath you uncomfortably but your mind is elsewhere. given that it’s his fault, after all, shinsou decides it’s finally time to take care of you. he scoops you up into his arm and sighs deep into your hair, shuts his eyes and presses the latch on the cuffs that let you go free both metaphorically and physically. you don't even have the energy to wrap your arms around his shoulders. had there not been a lesson to be learned, he would have felt bad for pushing you so far overboard.

but this had been a lesson, so he doesn’t.

as he kisses the top of your head, he coos, ‘good girl.’ you pant and shake in his arms. ‘you were so good for me. are you okay?’

you can't speak, but you can nod, and so you do. slowly, languid in your exhaustion, you nod with shut eyes. shinsou smiles and breathes a laugh of relief, even though he knew you would be anyways.

his erection pressed against your back but he can’t bring himself to subject you to anything further. he very well could, gently fuck you and have you cum for him just one more time, but he decides against it. you’re beyond tired, and he can wait. what you need is a bath and 12 hours of good, deep, rest.

you’re still thankfully coherent as he gets up and carries you with him, bringing you to the bathroom connected to the bedroom. he sets you in the hardness of the tub and crawls in behind you, runs his hand through your hair and kisses the dark hickies he’s painted onto the canvas of your throat while he makes the water run.

he coos your name, and you make some noise of acknowledgement.

‘i love you.’ he murmurs, and if humans could purr, you would have done so. he smiled against your skin and whispers it again, three times, four and then he lets the hot water lull you to sleep.

the bath is warm against his skin, and he kisses the top of your head once more.

the perfect night.

#bnha #mha #shinsou hitoshi #lemon #i hatte that tag LOL #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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pengiesama · 5 years ago

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The Gang Crashes a Party While in Drag (Chapter 1) (Fic, TOZ, Sorey/Mikleo)

Title: The Gang Crashes a Party While in Drag Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Sorey/Mikleo

Summary:

Sorey and the crew investigate reports of a black market trafficking ring, and zero in on a particularly nasty noble at the center of it all. Luckily, said noble is opening his chateau to host a masquerade – the perfect opportunity to get close. Unluckily, the Shepherd’s fame has spread wide, and Sorey needs a disguise to make sure he’s incognito.

This is achieved by the obvious solution, and that's to disguise him in a dress and pass him off as Rose's sister. What could possibly go wrong?

Notes:

Written for the Sorey/Mikleo 2019 Big Bang!

I partnered up with the wonderful Arivess @minstrels-ink and Nami; both of whom provided their artistic skills to complement my wack-ass ideas. I am eternally grateful to them.

Arivess's art is featured in Chapter 1! You can find her Tumblr here. Nami's art is featured in Chapter 2! You can find her Twitter here.

Link: AO3

Read on Tumblr!

“You’re lucky that you’re such a quick study on running in heels.”

“C’mon, Mikleo, is this really the time!?”

The hellion was fast – very fast – and easily closed in on whatever distance Sorey tried to put between them. His armatus with Mikleo was suited for sniping from afar, not for getting up close and personal with those rows and rows of sharp teeth. A change of tactics was needed, and – one body as they were – Sorey didn’t even need to speak the thought aloud before Mikleo helped him put the thought into action.

Sorey released his hold on the tether keeping them in the armatus, and felt Mikleo do the same. They split in two, and Mikleo allowed himself to be flung from Sorey’s sure and steady grip directly into the trunk of a tree. He vaulted gracefully off the trunk, and used the momentum to spring himself across the clearing and well out of the way of the rampaging hellion – and well out of the way of Sorey’s flaming sword.

“Fethmus Mioma!”

The flames illuminated the dark forest clearing, like morning’s light. The hellion shrank back, briefly stunned. Not that Sorey considered himself anything like an expert on hellions, but he’d never seen anything quite like this before. A wolf-headed hellion that stood at the height of three men, and had the approximate width of one of the emaciated famine victims that were such a common sight in towns these days. It was the width that was, perhaps, the most concerning – by any logic, it should have been wider, so much wider, to fit all the victims that it had been reported to have consumed. How could a hellion that devoured whole caravans of victims – stuffing them into the ever-drooling mouth, with its dozens of long, long arms – still be so grotesquely thin?

As always, Sorey’s certain tendency to get lost in his thoughts was something of a hindrance in battle. Luckily, there was someone still paying attention in this fight. The hellion was knocked over by a lucky hit from Rose and Edna’s armatus, and careened into a nearby tree with a dangerous-sounding crack. The tree lurched and toppled over, pinning the beast beneath it. Howling, the hellion tried to drag its body along the forest floor with those dozens of long arms; like a massive centipede that had been trapped beneath a giant boot. The air around the creature shimmered, and from the glinting aether, glowing chains sprang forth and bound the hellion (and the tree) more firmly into place. Zaveid landed atop the creature from where he’d been slinking about in the treetop cover, and struck a pose.

The hellion was too wounded to flee, too wounded to toss Zaveid off; too wounded and too mad with malevolence to do anything but crouch, drool, and snarl as Sorey and Lailah approached to attempt purification.

Rose wheezed in relief as she stumbled out of her armatus. She shook out her wrist, and flexed her fingers, as if testing to make sure they could still hold a knife.

“Geez! That thing’s skull was rock-hard. Felt like trying to put my fist through a wall…”

“You’re welcome to use your head next time if the Lady Edna’s holy fists aren’t cutting the mustard,” Edna replied drily. “I imagine it’s one of the only naturally-occurring elements that outrank them on the hardness scale.”

“I’m glad everyone’s feeling so energetic after that fight.” Mikleo finished up tending to Rose’s hand and arm with his healing artes, and surveyed the rest of the party judgmentally. “I take that to mean that no one will be whining at me when we head to the inn that their back hurts, then? I’d prefer to be bothered now than have to find out later…”

Sorey felt Mikleo’s stare burning into the back of his neck. He swallowed hard and tried to focus on finishing things up with Lailah and the hellion.

“Yanno, it’s almost a shame that we gotta purify this thing,” Zaveid said. He was still perched atop the hellion, and was holding the chains binding it like a pair of reins. “It’d make a pretty metal mount, don’t ya think? Roll up to a hot date riding this thing and you’ll have ‘em swooning.”

The hellion gave a pained shriek as the flames continued to burn away its tainted flesh. The acrid smell of it filled the night air. Its many limbs clawed at its face and neck, rending the skin there, as if mutilating itself was a relief in comparison to being healed of the corruption inside.

“The more we learn about you, Zaveid,” Mikleo said. “The more we understand you.”

“You’ll want to get down,” Lailah lightly called up to him.

Zaveid winked at her and made a little heart with his fingers. “Ooh, Lailah, no need to be so shy. C’mon up here, the weather’s fine—”

The flames had climbed up to where Zaveid stood, and the hellion’s constructed form finally collapsed in on itself like the frame of a burning house. Zaveid stumbled briefly before managing to catch himself on the superheated updraft of air and bounce off it to land on the ground with a…marginal amount of grace. Or at least without falling on his ass.

“How’s it looking?” Rose called over to Sorey and Lailah. “Human, animal, plant? Bunch of rocks glued together with googly eyes stuck on?”

Sorey took a deep breath to steady himself after the purification, and Mikleo was already behind him to grab at his shoulder. Steady as anything.

“Human,” Sorey said, finally. “Still alive. Not awake yet.”

“Peachy,” Rose said. “Much easier to interrogate a person. I’ve heard that the Sparrowfeathers’ boss is in quite a snit over all those shipments he’s gobbled up, and she’s dying for the full story.”

Which was, of course, part of why they were here. This particular hellion had been targeting caravans navigating this stretch of road between the border of Hyland and Rolance. The harrowing accounts of the survivors was motivation enough for Sorey and Rose to investigate and intervene, but Rose’s own motivation was given a bit of a nitro boost when she learned that several Sparrowfeather shipments had been delayed or lost due to the creature’s activity.

“…delayed…”

The man was waking up. He looked so terribly ordinary, in comparison to the nightmare that stalked the roads on a hundred limbs. He was dressed in simple traveling clothes. Thin cheeks, worn boots. Another person overcome by malevolence by starvation and resentment? He’d hardly be the first. But all he’d need was support, and –

“…delayed, delayed, delayed, delayed, can’t be late again, the boss said we can’t be late again, get the cargo—”

“Hold him down,” Rose said to Zaveid, before moving in herself.

“Anything for you, boss lady,” Zaveid said.

Chains glinted and held the man down, stopping him from thrashing while Rose grabbed his head on both sides and forced him to look at her.

“Hey. We’re passing through. Who’s this boss of yours? We’ll get the cargo to him on time.”

The man’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.

“No.”

He began to shake, then began to weep.

“Gone. Gone, they’re gone, they’re gone, we were supposed to deliver them to Hyland for sale but they’re gone and the boss he won’t like it he’ll know it was me and then Anne, Anne and the kids, they’ll—”

Zaveid pulled his chains tight, cutting the man off and binding him tighter to the ground.

“He’s gonna go hellion again if he gets himself worked up,” he barked at Rose. “And I sure as hell don’t like all this ‘them’ stuff with his ‘cargo’.”

Rose knew when to back down – that conversation was going nowhere fast, anyway. She wisely allowed Lailah to cast a spell that sent the man into the comparative relief of unconsciousness, and mulled over the facts they had.

“The Scattered Bones will take him into custody,” she said, finally.

“Custody?” Sorey said uneasily.

Rose leaned her head on her hand and looked at Sorey, one eyebrow raised. “You saw what happened the second he woke up. They’ll keep an eye on him at HQ and see if they can get the full story out of him.”

Sorey stared at the man for a moment, then swallowed hard. “And…try to help him?”

“As best as we can,” Rose replied, honestly. “You’ve seen this before, Sorey. People getting so desperate that they do things they can never forgive themselves for. He might wake up with a new lease on life, and we’ll put him to work in the company. Or he might wake up and immediately go creepy-crawly again the second he remembers what he’s done. Sometimes you just need to—”

“I get it,” Sorey cut her off. “But…we can’t just…he mentioned a boss.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” A slow, dangerous smile spread across Rose’s face. “We’re not done with them just yet.”

Lailah ahemed lightly, and glided forward.

“The man is purified. The Shepherd’s duty is finished,” she said. “Shall we discuss our next moves in a more…hospitable area?”

“Let’s rest at the inn a while,” Mikleo said.

His hand was a comfort and anchor on Sorey’s back. He allowed himself to lean into it, and be guided by Mikleo’s sure current.

“So, good news first,” Rose began. “It didn’t take long for us to get info on this boss guy.”

But Rose’s tone did not, in fact, indicate that the news was quite as good as all that. Things never seemed to be quite so simple, anymore.

“And the bad news?” Mikleo asked, voicing Sorey’s thoughts aloud.

Rose threw herself onto the inn bed and leaned back on her arms.

“Hooboy. Where to start? The bad news, the REALLY bad news, or the damn inconvenient news?”

“Ooh, now you’ve gotten me all excited.” Edna’s face was utterly expressionless, and her tone likewise. She was perched atop the inn’s tall wooden wardrobe; the vantage point allowing her to better beam her disdain at those below like a judgmental gargoyle. “Spill the beans before I perish from anticipation.”

Rose squinted up at her. “…how did you get…anyway. So. Our friend was part of a black market smuggling operation. First it was just contraband goods, and then they branched out into human trafficking – that was when his conscience caught up with him and he started chowing down on his coworkers and stalking the highways. He was pretty low on the ladder and didn’t know much about the guys really running it; he only ever had contact with cronies. But everything he told us lines up with cases that we’ve been monitoring for months. This ring isn’t just limited to a few scattered caravans on rural backroads. We’ve got reports of it being tied to activity across Hyland and Rolance, which let me tell you, will do peace talks no favors. Hyland’s gonna blame Rolance and Rolance’s gonna blame Hyland and so on.”

“…so, was that the bad news, the really bad news, or the inconvenient news?” asked Sorey.

“It’s all blended together in an intricate tapestry of unfortunateness,” Rose said. “So on one hand, it is Hyland’s fault. All of our sources are pointing to one of their nobles being the ringleader behind it all – his eminence Lord Mardoc of House Melwas. House Melwas owns most of the shipping lines nearest to Rolance’s borders, so the infrastructure was already there for him to pull this off. But on the other hand, even though he’s footing the bills and reaping the profits, these kinds of enterprises tend to be…group ventures. Especially when they’ve got a reach as wide as this. It’s not gonna go away completely even if we manage to take the boss chump down.”

“Even if we were to apprehend everyone involved, Hyland and Rolance would need to work together to extradite the accused and bring them to trial,” Mikleo said. “It could take years.”

“And that’s assuming Rolance will play nice,” Rose added. “Bet they’d only be too happy to set the blame totally on Hyland’s shoulders.”

“So…I guess it’s up to the Shepherd, then?” Sorey said, softly.

There was historical precedent for such a thing: Shepherds, mediating international disputes as the neutral third parties they were always intended to be. Sorey could rattle off at least three or four such incidents off the top of his head – one of them even involved digging up the skeleton of a previous Rolance pope to put it on trial. (The skeleton, judged guilty, was stripped of its papal hat and frockery and then beheaded. Sorey often wondered if any of that was truly necessary.) But reading about it in history books was one thing, and being expected to live it himself was…quite another.

A long, drawn-out fight amongst a bunch of squabbling politicians and nobles, all trying to point fingers while the world around them was falling apart. When the cards were laid out on the table like this, the odds seemed…almost insurmountable. Sorey’s shoulders drooped with the weight of his thoughts. Mikleo’s cool hand on his nape was all that kept him from sinking too deeply into a place that would be hard to return from. Here be darkness, and skeleton popes.

“And you guys wonder why I went into customer service,” said Rose.

“Just want to note that it’s so convenient that your little gossip crew dug up so much dirt so fast,” Edna commented drily. “Almost like they’ve been sitting on said dirt for a while, doing nothing about it until it got inconvenient. Like when it was your turn to get your shipments munched on.”

Edna, unfortunately, always seemed to know how to hit where it hurt. She zeroed in on weak points so easily: Mikleo’s height, Zaveid’s receding hairline, Rose’s sense of justice. Sorey’s heart twisted unhappily at the sight of Rose’s knuckles fisted in the bedspread.

“Kinda feels like that, doesn’t it?” Rose finally said. She lifted her head, wearing a thoughtful expression. “You know, we’d joked for the longest time that we should start invoicing the Hyland knights, since we were doing their jobs for them – upholding the peace and all that. But it seems like we’ve gotten a little lax lately.”

“Rose,” Mikleo said. “It’s not your job to police Hyland’s laws. You can’t take all that responsibility on yourself.

Sorey couldn’t help but sense that comment wasn’t just directed at Rose, for some reason. (Like the fact that Mikleo’s hand found his own when he said it, and squeezed tight.) Still, Rose didn’t exactly seem to take the advice to heart. She jumped to her feet, and set her hands to her hips; a grin plastered to her face.

“It’s a matter of customer service at this point,” Rose said. “The Scattered Bones can’t refuse to investigate a direct request, now can they?”

Sorey blinked. “A direct request? From who?”

“Our friend from last night. Remember? Eight feet tall, big and scary, sharp teeth, loads of arms?”

“I don’t remember him asking anything,” Sorey replied, dubious.

“He definitely didn’t,” Mikleo agreed. “He yelled a bit and then passed out. I’d wager his hellion form was much taller than a mere eight feet, as well.”

“Guys,” Rose groaned. “A little bit of room for interpretation, please. Plus, if this Mardoc guy really is behind this operation, his homebase is probably lousy with malevolence – cleaning that up is right up our alley. So what do you say; wanna do a house-call at Chateau Melwas? It’s on the outskirts of—”

Sorey startled at Rose’s question, suddenly remembering something very important – something absolutely vital. He seized Mikleo’s wrist, urgently.

“Wait! Chateau Melwas. Of course; we only ever saw it written out like that, but of course it’d be owned by House Melwas!”

Mikleo’s eyes went huge, and he seized Sorey’s wrist right back.

“You’re right! It’s only logical. Chateau Melwas, built atop the underground Baudemagus Cathedral. An architectural marvel, built with a mix of Hyland and Rolance techniques to keep its structural integrity. It’s been sealed off for centuries from the public.”

“We could see the archivolts,” Sorey whispered urgently.

“We could see the archivolts,” Mikleo agreed, just as urgently. For just a moment, his gaze grew distant and vacant, as if he was wholly lost in thoughts of archivolts. Sorey could relate. He could so, so relate.

“I know I should be more careful about what I say, but I just don’t ever know what’s going to set them off…” Rose lamented. She looked up at Edna. “Wanna help me find Lailah and Zaveid so we can start brainstorming?”

Edna hopped down from her perch. “I’ll take any opportunity to get out of this room, no matter how unpleasant. Circumstances must.”

They were to infiltrate the chateau of House Melwas, to gather evidence and evaluate the truth of the claims against Lord Mardoc (and admire some archivolts in the process). Luckily for them, they had stumbled upon this mission during a most fortuitous time – Lord Mardoc was opening Chateau Melwas for a masquerade ball. It would be the best chance they’d get to investigate…and, perhaps, the only chance.

To an outside observer, the cards would seem to be stacked in Sorey’s favor. Not only would he have the noise and bustle of the masquerade to hide his movements, but he also had a master assassin and four magical invisible friends to back him up. Surely it would be child’s play for the almighty Shepherd.

Unfortunately, there were a few handicaps in play that evened the odds:

One: Sorey, even at this point in his short career, had become quite recognizable as the Shepherd.

Two: Rose, having a long and storied career as one of the continent’s most successful capitalists, was even more recognizable.

Being that they were famous-slash-infamous, it called for them to attend undercover – after all, if it was discovered that the Shepherd was in attendance, Mardoc would surely rush to dispose of any evidence of his illicit activities, making their entire search fruitless.

Surely a masquerade would make undercover activity simple…if it were not for the final handicap:

Three: Sorey was an absolutely wretched actor, and was sure to give away the game in a matter of seconds.

Thus, this called for a more stealthy infiltration. To this end, they tested out Mikleo’s talents in the safety of their base of operations (being their room at the inn).

“Uh…” Rose frowned, looking Sorey over critically. “I don’t think this is gonna work.”

Sorey was invisible…in some places. One arm, then the fingers of his other hand, and his torso. His right leg blinked back into view, then disappeared again, then slowly regained its opacity once more as the seconds ticked by.

“Just…give me a minute…” Mikleo said through gritted teeth. He was visibly shaking from the effort of keeping up the spell for so long. His skin was even paler than normal, and was beaded with sweat.

Sorey appeared to be torn between the urge to rush over to Mikleo’s side to support him, and the urge to stay in place as firmly instructed by Mikleo at the start of the experiment.

“Mikleo,” Sorey pleaded. “We’ve got backup options, you know?”

“Like what?” Mikleo snapped. He briefly lost his hold on the spell, and Sorey’s torso flickered. “Put a bedsheet over your head and pretend to be ghosts haunting the grounds?”

Rose shivered. “Gonna veto that one. Hard.”

Edna made a sympathetic noise, and patted Rose’s shoulder. “You’re so right, Rose. That’d be so inconsiderate to all the ghosts that probably already haunt that moldy old underground cathedral. Don’t wanna stir them up.”

Rose wailed and immediately retreated under the bed.

Lailah, finally, set a hand on Mikleo’s should and bade him to stop. Exhausted, Mikleo released the spell and leaned heavily on his staff. Sorey rushed over on his reappearing limbs to offer his support, and lead him to sit on the bed that Rose was currently lurking beneath.

“It was well worth attempting, but I must advise overexerting ourselves on this venture,” Lailah said. “Chateau Melwas is well outside of Ladylake’s jurisdiction – and as such, well outside of the reach of Lord Uno’s protective domain. The malevolence is thick here, our powers dampened with it. It would be dangerous indeed to take risks.”

“Back in the day, I’d just…dash up the walls and in through the windows, in and out like a shot…” Sorey heard Rose quietly musing underneath the bed. It seemed like she was mostly talking to herself. “Can’t really do that anymore, can I? Zaveid, he just doesn’t get my style, not like you did…”

Sorey squeezed Mikleo’s shoulder, and tried to get him to catch his eye.

“Rain check on cloak practice?” he asked, hopefully. “Maybe when we’re in a place where the air’s a bit cleaner?”

Mikleo would not, however, catch his eye, and sullenly wriggled his shoulder out of Sorey’s hold. Sorey’s heart sank.

Seeing Mikleo’s already-sour mood, Edna clicked her tongue, ready to make things worse, as usual.

“Why must we bank our hopes on the powers of a single frail Meebo?” she asked. “Just tart Sorey up in something pretty and have him flash the bouncers some leg at the door.”

She clearly did not mean this statement in earnest. She clearly meant it as a joke, as a way to needle Mikleo for being unable to live up to his own unreasonably high standards of personal achievement; to get him riled up enough to stop stewing in self-pity.

But there came a rumble from beneath the bed.

Rose scuttled out from her dark domain on all fours; her hair and eyes wild with inspiration.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “That’s our game. We dress in drag and crash this party.”

This bizarre conclusion at least seemed to break Mikleo out of his sulk. He stared at her, baffled.

“…you’ll do what?”

Rose grabbed Sorey by the shoulder with one hand, and grabbed his chin in the other. She presented him to the rest of the group thusly, very proud of herself.

“I present to you: Lady Soreyella Sparrowfeather, with her dashing older brother, Lord Roseino Sparrowfeather. We are young single nouveau riche siblings travelling the world on our mamá and papá’s dime, looking for fun, excitement, and a suitor who will treat my naïve little sister like the delicate, squishy little cream puff she is.”

“…Okay,” Mikleo said, once he was sure Rose was finished. “Just give me a few minutes and we can try the cloaking arte again. I know that if I can just get a handle on the light refraction, I’ll be able to keep it up for as long as we need…”

Mikleo trailed off. The atmosphere of the room had changed palpably with Rose’s suggestion – it seemed to burn alight with an excitement that tingled the skin. The source of the burning flame was unmistakable: Lailah seemed to almost be hovering above the floor, and was wreathed in a holy aura of light. She clasped her hands together, and lifted them upwards, a prayer to the heavens.

“Splendid,” she whispered. “Oh, how splendid indeed. An undercover mission – not only under the cover of night, but also under cover of the finest finery!”

Mikleo wondered if it would be out of line for him to walk over and tug Lailah back down to have both her feet on the floor. Surely it would be within Sorey’s rights as Shepherd…but what would stop her from arising once more? Would it be better to simply tie a string to her ankle so she didn’t accidentally float away? These questions were all important ones, but they were secondary to the more salient question of the moment:

“Are you forgetting Lastonbell?” Mikleo asked. “Our resident provincial lard? Hello? Oh, not him too…”

Zaveid had joined Lailah in her conference approximately six inches above the flooring, his excitement equally as evident.

“Food, wine, gorgeous sights to see,” Zaveid whispered mistily. “Ladies beckoning with their burning gazes from across the crowded dance hall.”

It was becoming clear that the vote was heading in a certain direction; that direction being “Sorey and Rose crossdressing to crash a party”. Edna smirked at Mikleo and Sorey devilishly.

“Rose’s suggestion really just is so splendid, and the Lady Edna wholeheartedly supports it.” Edna twirled her umbrella as she spoke. “She simply cannot wait to see the Shepherd traipsing about in a shimmering gown and heels, resembling a graceful overdressed cupcake. He will blend right in with the buffet table and remain utterly undetectable. The perfect plan.”

Mikleo gaped at Sorey, speechless. Sorey, for his part, seemed resigned to his fate. He sighed heavily.

“If you guys think it’ll work, I’ll do it,” Sorey said. “But I don’t…I don’t really know anything about, well…any of this. Dancing, and balls, and dressing up…”

Lailah and Zaveid floated over to Sorey, and both took one of his hands in their own, tenderly.

“Fear not,” they spoke in unison. “For we will be at your side.”

“I know,” Sorey assured them. “You always are. But I’ll feel a little, well…out of place…”

Lailah’s grip tightened, and she leaned in, her eyes blazing.

“Please understand, Shepherd Sorey,” she said. “We will be by your side, all of us, in finery as fine as yours.”

Edna’s umbrella stopped twirling. “Excuse me?” she asked flatly.

Zaveid rose several more inches off the floor in his excitement. “You mean…”

“With the powers invested in me by the Lord Maotelus, I decree as Prime Lord that we shall all be disguised in a similar method, alongside the Shepherd and Squire.” Lailah’s voice was clear, commanding – it seemed to echo off the walls of the inn as if the walls were made of the resonant marble of a cathedral instead of ordinary wood. “It is our duty as seraphim to assist the Shepherd in all things, to show solidarity and share in his trials.”

“Pass,” Edna said, then shrieked aloud repeatedly as she was forcibly levitated off the ground to join Lailah and Zaveid.

“Guess you shouldn’t have voted for such a splendid plan if you weren’t willing to participate,” Mikleo wearily commented. He, too, was also being lifted off the ground by an invisible force gripping his capes and dangling him like a scruffed cat.

“Um,” Sorey said. “I really appreciate the company, but…isn’t the masquerade in less than a week? Can we find someone who can make outfits for everyone on such short notice? Especially outfits for, well, someone they can’t even really see…”

Rose threw her arm around Sorey’s shoulder (with some effort, considering the height difference and the fact that she was not currently taking part in the levitation fiesta).

“Sorey, Sorey, Sorey. Are you forgetting who you’re dealing with here?” Rose said. “The Sparrowfeathers have their ways. We just need to hit up this one tailor that owes me a favor or three…”

It was, of course, in Lastonbell that they found this tailor – the city of artisans was home to the most skilled hands on the continent, no matter what the craft. Rose smiled charmingly at the woman who answered the door. The smile was met with a weary stare.

“Ella,” Rose said. “Have I got a project for you.”

Ella slowly tried shutting the door, but Rose wedged her foot in before she could manage.

“Now, now, don’t try to be shy about it; we both know that you’re always excited to do work for me! Like I was saying, I’ve got a project and I just know you’re the only person who can pull it off. Don’t leave me out in the cold, here!”

Ella sighed tiredly. “I’ve told you a thousand times that there’s a limit to what those suits are designed to withstand. A little blood, the sealant can handle. You get sloppy, you get stains.”

Sorey could hazard a guess at how Rose had made the acquaintance of this woman. Rose huffed in irritation.

“Why do you always think I’m here about our suits? I’ve got other stuff on my plate, you know.”

“I also already told you that I can’t make them withstand deep ocean pressure.”

“We can talk about that again later!” Rose muscled her way in through the door, pulling Sorey along behind her. “Right now I need you to make six people look very pretty. Four of them are invisible. Also we’re all crossdressing and in disguise.”

Ella processed Rose’s words, and the situation she was presented. On her worktable, a pencil lifted, and began to sketch fervently on the sketchpad there. After a few moments, the pencil paused, and the sketchpad floated over to present itself to Ella for review. Ella leaned in, squinting through her thick glasses at the designs the phantom pencil had drafted for her. Finally, she shrugged.

“Whatever.” She went to fetch her measuring tape and some paper for notes. “As long as you keep giving me discounts on fabric.”

The day of the masquerade had arrived, and their disguises had arrived to their inn room, not a moment too soon.

“Your tailor friend worked so tirelessly, day and night,” Lailah said with a note of concern, even as she was visibly itching to tear into the carefully-wrapped packages. “I do hope that she didn’t exhaust herself.”

“She gets like that when she’s inspired,” Rose explained. “And it’s not like she did it out of the goodness of her heart. She gets first pick on any of our textile shipments, and every completed commission is a punch on her Scattered Bones loyalty card. Ten punches and she gets a free assassination request.”

The room became palpably awkward. Rose sighed aloud.

“Joking,” she said. “Not about the shipment thing though.”

“We just wonder sometimes…” Mikleo mumbled.

It was the moment of truth. The fashion show of the century. The couture reckoning.

Rose posed with her booted leg on a footrest. She looked sleek, debonair – her fitted suit hid her curves, but could not quite flatten her entirely; giving her a silhouette that would steal the attention of men and women alike. The suit was a reddish-pink the color of the sky at twilight, and the fabric shone and shimmered luxuriously in the candlelight. She looked inarguably well put-together, but had an air of the rogue. Her red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and she wore a black handlebar moustache for…some reason.

“A moustache is not a toy,” chided Lailah.

Lailah looked as elegant as ever, and as understated as ever – that was to say, not understated whatsoever. It was a known fact in the study of zoology that the male of a species was very frequently the most glamorously-dressed, and while it was doubtful that Lailah had much interest in the field, perhaps she’d once travelled with someone who did. Or maybe she just saw a peacock one time, and thought, Yes! That is what I want to look like if I ever had to crossdress for a villain’s masquerade ball! Her ruby-red suit’s tails trailed behind her like a bird’s tailfeathers, and the ensemble positively dripped with white lace and golden filigree. Her hair was pulled back into its customary ponytail, but was braided through with red ribbon. Despite her admonishing Rose for moustache crimes, she herself wore a gaudy, dandy top hat atop her head.

“I swear on my last breath that I will smear jam all over this cravat and hide it in your bed at night,” Edna hissed.

Edna…well. Perhaps it was karmic consequence that had landed her in her current outfit, or perhaps it was her complete refusal to work with Ella and pay more than a scornful glance to the outfit designs that Lailah had drafted. She looked like the precious darling scion of a hallowed aristocratic house. She was absolutely drowning in frills and lace, in bows and cravats. Though the design was intended to bring to mind a sailor suit, a rock would have looked more seaworthy.

“You cut a distinguishing figure,” Lailah said sincerely. Rose cackled and twirled her moustache.

Visibly miserable, Edna yanked and tugged at the white stockings that she wore under her bloomers. “I haven’t worn pants in years. If I suffocate tonight I’m going to smear jam all over these tights and—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it.” Rose twirled her moustache once more for good measure. “Gentlemen, or should I say, gentleladies! You’re up!”

Zaveid’s leg was the first thing that could be seen in the doorway – his bare leg, sporting a gun holster hooked to his garter. He whirled into view, pressing his whole body up against the doorframe, posing like a femme fatale from a trashy stage play. Ella probably did not need to spend much time on his ensemble, considering how…little there was of it. It showcased his entire back, and bared cleavage to the point of obscenity. The sides were slit up to his hips, allowing him to showcase the curve of his ass with very little trouble. Despite the…lack of modesty, he didn’t look bad. It was just…

“I thought we were trying to not call attention to ourselves?” Edna commented flatly.

“You think about how we’d manage that with Zaveid, and you get back to me,” Rose said.

“I’m just…too much…to ignore…” Zaveid said breathily, fluttering his eyelashes on every syllable.

Despite herself, Edna had to give her that one.

“Um,” Sorey’s voice called from the hallway. “Can you guys tell me if I put this on right? I think I’ve got some leftover sashes…”

The group was stunned to silence as Sorey entered the room. It was not as though they expected Sorey to look bad in his disguise. They just didn’t expect him to look this good. Ella had outdone herself. The white bodice, trimmed with blue and gold embroidery, served two important functions: it cinched Sorey’s waist, and pushed up his already fairly large chest to create the illusion of a voluminous bosom. On the other hand, Ella chose not to hide Sorey’s broad shoulders and muscled arms; instead flattering and showcasing them with cutout shoulders and draping sleeves. The blond wig on his head framed his face charmingly; when Sorey gave a shy, awkward smile, those present in the room felt as though a thousand arrows hit their hearts.

“It’s a little tight, you know, in…this area.” Sorey gestured to his honkers. “But I really like the skirts! Did you tell Ella how much I love flappy capes?”

His practice in the armatus gave him the grace and balance to twirl in his heels, allowing the long, flowing skirts to float around him like a princess from a fairytale.

“Your tailor girl’s a magician,” Zaveid said with a note of wonder in his voice. “Man. If she made Sorey look like such a sweet little thing, just think about…”

He trailed off, but everyone knew exactly to whom he was referring. They looked towards the door, on the edge of their seats.

Secretly, everyone really had been looking forward to seeing Mikleo all dolled up—

“Mikleo! Come out, please!” Sorey pleaded. “I wanna see how pretty you look!”

…okay, “secretly” for everyone except Sorey, who was always extremely loud about all things Mikleo. But the fact remained: Mikleo was already stunning enough, with his snow-white skin and striking violet eyes, with his tiny waist and delicate features. Expectations were high, and were only made higher by the clear demonstration of Ella’s skills.

“I took a sneak peek at the dress Miss Ella sent for him,” Lailah sighed aloud as she spoke. “Truly lovely! Mikleo will be a vision in it.”

This assurance only served to heighten the excitement in the room, and served to make Sorey nearly start vibrating in place. They heard a grumble and the sound of footsteps from the hallway, and Mikleo stepped into the room…

…

…well.

“Are you happy now?” Mikleo spat, crossing his arms. That snow-white skin of his was cherry red, from the tips of his ears to his chest.

The dress was indeed beautiful, and was fitted to Mikleo’s envious figure perfectly. His waist, dainty as ever, was only made lovelier by the finely-embroidered and ribboned bodice. The sleeves and skirts flowed like water, shimmering in the room’s candlelight like a pond reflecting the sun. The colors of the fabric complemented his fair complexion perfectly – it was as though a fairy of ice and snow had descended to bless them with a crisp winter’s day.

However, the enchanting effect was seriously spoiled by the sour and uncomfortable look on Mikleo’s face, and the stiffness in the way that he moved. He walked like he was on stilts, and turned in place like he had sacks of barley tied to his hips. It was abundantly clear that skirts and heels did not agree with him on a personal or spiritual level. Putting a beautiful swan in a beautiful dress resulted in something that was less than the sum of its parts. And resulted in a pissed-off swan.

Sorey sighed dreamily, and swept over in his skirts to twirl around the room with Mikleo – Sorey, moving with effortless charm, and Mikleo, moving like a flailing fish.

“You look so great! Doesn’t he!?” Sorey asked the room, though he wouldn’t have heard any answer they gave, so lost he was in their twirling. “If only everyone in that whole ballroom could see you, I bet they’d just look at you and go, ‘wow’…”

At least now Mikleo was pouting, rather than scowling. It made him look marginally more presentable.

“…well, now that the two of us look so dashing,” Rose said, trying to get the subject onto something that wouldn’t horribly offend Sorey. “I think we’re ready to crash that party.”

“As long as our Cupcake Shepherd keeps his mouth shut,” Edna mumbled. She was lying face-down on the inn floor to indicate her displeasure at everything around her.

“Yeah, well, if things go well, Soreyella Sparrowfeather won’t need to do much talking at all,” Rose said. “Roseino will distract all those guests with his charm and tales of adventure, while Soreyella and Miklette slip out to investigate the building and get some evidence of Mardoc’s extracurricular business ventures.”

“Mikleo,” Mikleo harshly corrected. “Will escort Sorey. Without these stupid—pointless—”

In a fit of fury, Mikleo tore off one heeled shoe and threw it across the room. He then hobbled out of the room, one heel still on, grumbling as he lurched back to his own room to find his normal footwear. Sorey gathered up his skirts and hurried after him like a practiced maiden.

The stage was set, and the cast were in costume and ready for their cue. But the question remained: even with evidence at hand, what could be done if Hyland insisted on ignoring the crimes of its nobility?

(Art by Arivess!)

#sormik #sorey/mikleo #suremiku #soremiku #soymilk #tales of zestiria #sormikbb2019 #a tenderly crafted fanfiction

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shannaraisles · 5 years ago

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Midwinter Roses

A commission fic for @lechatrouge673, who asked me to write something that made me happy. :)

[Read on AO3]

***

Wintermarch, 9:43 Dragon

Swords clashed, sending a shudder up along Alistair's arm that almost rattled his teeth. Too tense, he told himself, pushing away to take better stock of his opponent.

He absently rolled the shoulder that had taken the impact, trying to convince his taut muscles to ease themselves, willing his body into a more natural fighting stance. Across from him, he could see Fergus grinning at his retreat, rolling his eyes at the other man's obvious enjoyment of the king's distraction.

"Too much already, your majesty?" the teyrn teased him, laughter clear in his tone. "We've only been at this an hour."

Alistair's eyes narrowed, bringing his sword and shield to bear as he charged his friend across the training ground. He bent his shoulder into the barge, satisfied by the way the press of shield against shield forced Fergus to give ground a few steps before the other man could bring his own strength to bear against the driving force pushing against him. Unfortunately, he was too focused on that push, missing the way the teyrn's feet shifted until he felt the hook of one foot behind his ankle.

Pulled off-balance, he staggered, cursing, and tripped over the lowered tip of his own sword, sent sprawling onto the snow with one well-timed slap of Fergus' sword flat against his backside. Pride hurting more than his body, Alistair rolled over onto his back, wheezing slightly.

"It's been hours," he complained. "Surely it isn't supposed to take this long?"

Fergus chuckled, passing his sword into his shield hand to offer his king help in rising.

"Well, there's more than just the arrival to deal with, isn't there?" he pointed out, heaving his friend to his feet. "I shouldn't worry so much, Alistair. You're worse than Maria this afternoon."

"At least she's allowed to be there," the king muttered, swiping a hand across his brow.

"Ladies only, you know that," his friend reminded him. "And it's just as well. With everything we've done today, can you imagine taking that kind of energy into that room?"

Alistair winced. He knew perfectly well why he wasn't allowed to attend the event taking place - Fabs had been very clear with him. She knew her husband better than he sometimes knew himself; it seemed obvious now that she had known well in advance that he would not be able to behave himself in the circumstances.

Despite himself, he felt a familiar smile touch his face at the thought of his beautiful wife. It seemed like only yesterday that he had spoken his vows and laid the crown upon her head, and yet three years had flown by. Three very eventful years, not just for Thedas at large, but also for his small corner of it. Behind the larger issues of the elven army that appeared to be gathering out of sight, the threat of Fen'Harel, the disbanding of the Inquisition, the idiotic attempt at a civil revolt that had originated in Redcliffe, the discovery of griffins still living and being trained to Grey Warden hands ... behind all those were advances of a far more personal nature.

Demelza's success in her quest trumped it all. After years of searching, of tracking down leads and journeying into the furthest reaches of the back of beyond, his merry-tempered elven friend had stamped her way into Denerim in the dead of winter barely a year before, and delivered to him the cure she had been seeking. She had already taken it herself, and even Alistair had been able to see the changes in himself just a few days after he imbibed. The Blight was gone from his body and being, the tell-tale aches, the nightmares, the sense that his time was running out ... all gone. It had been nothing short of a miracle, and today he stood tall and strong, proud to be the King of Ferelden with many more years left to shape his country as he saw fit.

The sound of a door opening brought his head around with a snap that wrenched his neck, making his vision spin for a moment. He focused on Andra, one of Fabs' personal maids, feeling cold sweat break out over his skin, sticking his shirt to his back.

"Yes?" he asked, not waiting for her to finish her greeting and curtsy.

The elven woman bit down on a smile at his terse eagerness.

"They're ready for you, your majesty."

With a crash, Alistair dropped his sword and shield, hands moving to undo the buckles of his training leathers as long legs bore him hastily past the woman and into the palace. He paid no attention to the startled shriek of the steward he almost ran over in his haste, simply pushing his leathers into the man's hands before accelerating into a loping run, ignoring the half-hearted attempts of the nobles in the hall trying to get his attention. He burst through the double doors, tossing his gloves and mail coif onto the floor as he went, skidding around the corner and taking the stairs three at a time to the royal floor.

He was breathing hard by the time he arrived outside the Queen's chamber, pausing a moment to compose himself before raising a hand to push open the door itself. The scene he found there was almost enough to drive him to his knees.

There was Ceri and Ciara, fussing around the end of the bed, giggling quietly together in the strangely content stillness of the room. There was Maria, still growing into the beautiful young woman she would some day be, sitting on the bed itself, looking exhausted and happy. And finally, there was his beloved Fabs, sitting up in bed, flushed but smiling, and holding in her arms another small bundle from which one tiny hand flailed. She raised her eyes to her husband, speechless and unmoving in the doorway, and carefully brought one arm out from beneath the bundle to open her hand to him.

"Come, mi amore," she invited him, her voice weary but bright with the warm delight he so loved to hear from her. "Come and meet your daughter."

A daughter. For a moment, Alistair stood paralyzed in the doorway, his mind grasping at the words before they could fly away. Then his body was moving, without conscious thought, lurching him across the intervening space to crash down on his knees beside the bed. Fabs laughed softly, letting her fingers comb tenderly through his hair as he dared to look on the screwed up little face peeking out of the blankets.

"She's so small," he whispered, girding himself inwardly to lift his hand and delicately touch that flailing fist with one callused finger.

And abruptly melted from the inside out, as that tiny hand wrapped tightly about his finger, holding on with far more strength than he could possibly have believed a newborn baby could muster. He heard himself let out a sound that was caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob, lifting his gaze to the lovely face watching him with a familiar smile.

"She's all right, is she?" he asked, vague concern rising for a brief moment, quashed when Fabs nodded in answer.

"Amara has checked her over," she promised her husband, the rich sweetness of the Antivan accent he had grown to prefer to any other female voice soothing the last prickles of his concern. "There is no Blight in her, Alistair. She is as you see."

"And you?"

Again, her smile was all he needed to feel relief coursing through his veins. It had been a long day, filled with black thoughts and worries alleviated only when Fergus provided him with distractions. Even with a mage healer on hand - and he would have to find some way to personally thank Amara for her work today - there were so many ways the birthing bed could become a deathbed, for the mother or the child. But not today. Today they had both come through hale and well, and he thanked the Maker for it.

He rose shakily onto his feet, easing down onto the bed beside her, only just aware that he was now the only visitor in the room. The ladies must have left to give them some privacy, he realized, determining to set time aside after dinner to spend some time with Maria after the events of the day. One arm curled automatically about his beautiful wife, tucking her close beneath his shoulder as he kissed her brow.

"I love you," he whispered, never tired of saying those words.

"As I love you, mi amore," she promised him in return, nestling close as they both turned their eyes to the wriggling infant in her arms.

"I can't believe she's here," Alistair said, keeping his voice low as though any untoward sound might rip his daughter from existence before his eyes. "What shall we call her?"

"I would like to give her a name that connects her to her family, our family," Fabs murmured, her head tipping comfortably onto his shoulder. "We never really thought of names for girls."

He heard the faint sense of failure in her voice, his arm tightening about her shoulders in response. They both knew there would be some voices raised in disappointment that the king's firstborn was not a male, but Alistair did not give two hoots for those voices.

"She's perfect," he told his wife firmly. "Let the idiots complain if they dare. You are the queen, you are my wife, and you are a wonderful mother. And if, for some reason, we aren't blessed with sons, I'll change the bloody constitution if I have to."

He felt Fabs relax under his arm, glad she trusted him to believe what he said. And he meant it. If they had no sons, he would change the constitution that stated only a man could rule unmarried. His daughter was not going to be pushed aside or forced to wed just because of a stupid law.

"I was wondering, though," he ventured, softening his voice once again. "Could we ... I mean, she's your daughter too, but ... could we maybe give her Dem's name in the middle there somewhere? Royal babies have lots of names, so I hear. Fabs."

Her nickname on his tongue at that point made her laugh - that first, fumbling attempt at speaking all her names distilled down into a single nickname that now she was known as across Ferelden. Everyone in Denerim seemed to have known her as Fabs before learning she was actually Felicita, and Queen Fabs had stuck in a big way. But still, she loved to hear it most from her husband's mouth.

"Yes, of course," she agreed with a nod. "I had thought as much. But ... I would like to suggest Cailynn, for your brother. Demelza, for our friend. And Mariah, for her sister."

"Cailynn?"

Alistair blinked, surprised and yet strangely touched by this nod to the brother he had only known from a distance. His last memory of Cailan had been his brother's funeral pyre, of watching the flames take the befouled corpse and cleanse the defilement the darkspawn had enacted upon it. Yet, for all his lack of common sense when it came to battle strategy, Cailan had been a popular king, and he had been mourned sincerely by the people. Alistair had mourned for him, for the brother he had never been allowed to know. This was a good way to honor the man, and the good memory he had left with those he had left behind.

"Cailynn Demelza Mariah," he repeated, looking down at the baby girl who still held his finger in her grip. "What do you think, hmm? A pretty name for a pretty princess?"

The closed eyes blinked open, newborn blues gazing up at him with an adorable lack of focus, and Alistair felt something in his heart snap. She was beautiful, as beautiful as the woman he loved, and he didn't care that his firstborn was a girl. She was his, and he was hers. Unconsciously, his arms tightened about both of them, holding his wife and daughter close as a slow tear trickled down his cheek.

"I swear to Andraste I will never let anyone or anything hurt you," he promised, his voice hoarse through his whisper. "Either of you. I love you, so much."

Fabs' hand rose, gently stroking his cheek as he kissed her palm.

"We love you," she answered in a tender tone. "Te amo, papi."

Father.

He was a father. He had a daughter, a beautiful little bundle who would grow up knowing she was loved and wanted. He would not be the father Maric had been, nor the guardian Eamon had been. Alistair's children would never know what it was to be unwanted.

He looked down at the sleeping face, easing his finger free to stroke the pad tenderly against one round cheek.

This, I swear.

#lechatrouge673 #commission fic #alistair theirin #fergus cousland #queen fabs #alistair x fabs #just a little fluff #kind of domestic #very family vibey

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neen-writes · 7 years ago

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Iron Legends: Reforged -- Chapter 17

Series: Fairy Tail

Characters: Gajeel, Levy, plus appearances from Natsu and Lucy.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Sci-fi

Summary: The old lab had always been fuel for a good story, something you would half-heartedly joke about going to sometime. Some did, and when they came back they never talked about it again. The legends circulated, telling of ghosts, monsters, and anything else someone would be likely to conjure up about an abandoned building. But even with all the stories meant to keep everyone away, there are still those for whom the intrigue is too tempting.

Read the Reforged chapters on FFnet here, Ao3 here, and read the entire original story here!! AND find this fic’s soundtrack here!

Ko-fi

Note: This one took me a while. I didn’t know what to change, what to alter aside from trying to make it clearer and up the emotional aspect. This is the climax of the story and I have never second guessed all the things that happened here, this is what I wanted it to be. So there wasn’t a while lot to change, mostly just clean up. I hope yall enjoy!

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch.10 Ch. 11 Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15 Ch. 16

Cold, dark, and unrelenting. The dragon did his best to refrain from senses, they only slowed him down. The pain was constant, sharpening in intervals that shot down his throat and into his chest, seizing his haggard breaths. The adrenaline did well to keep him moving through it, the corners of his vision blurred to only leave the dead center in focus. Nowhere to look but forward. Gajeel wheezed heavily, and slumped against a wall. His head rolled back and he tried to take a deeper breath, to steady himself. He gathered the scent of smoke, metal, and the other subjects. But not what he was looking for.

This power was draining, and it was starting to wear away at him. He knew it would and he planned for this, but still. He needed to act quickly if he was going to get her out of this. The roars would take their toll later when his drive wore off, but for now he was riding the rage, and it kept him going forward, even if he had slowed down.

Gajeel’s stunt had knocked out the power so spectacularly, sending explosions through the ventilation shafts of half the facility, that it subsequently opened every cell in the facility. Every power backup failed in the wake of the surge. The sounds of chaos slowly building below was all he needed to know that they had made their choices, just as they had done before. And they chose freedom, and violence.

There was a sudden chill, and he felt his hair prickle and stand up with static. Immediately after, a second cataclysmic boom rocked the facility and he heard him roar. A small smirk tugged at his lips, before a chill of a different kind settled over him and completely distracted him.

The smell of fear.

The shadows that accompanied him whipped, and his teeth grit painfully. Gajeel heaved off the wall and his glazed eyes focused behind him, looking for blue. What he found instead was an annoyance and a mere obstacle keeping him from what mattered. The guards stood, feigning a unified front, but he knew how this would go. Even with their weapons, they were only human, and Gajeel was more now than he had been the last time they faced this way.

With a snarl he stomped towards the armed, but definitely fearful men that were somehow supposed to stop or kill him. Neither was going to happen–not this time–as he swung an arm, slashing out his shadows to slam the small group all at once into the wall with such force that they crumpled to useless heaps on the floor. A single move, a single black wave. Definitely more now than he was before.

Immediately Gajeel swung his fist into the wall with a snarl, trying to calm the desire to do more than knock them out. The beast in his thoughts raged, bellowed, and demanded more control than it was being afforded. It threw itself against the walls of the mental cage he tried to keep it in, and the more time that passed the more he could feel it damage those walls. He hunched forward, hissing through his sharp teeth as the shadows wrapped around him, staying him from ripping out their throats.

After several tense moments, he took another sniff, but still couldn’t pick up what he sought out. Not over everything else; there was too much and now he found himself wondering if he could find her in the chaos at all. Doubts aside, his only choice was to keep moving and to pray he got to her in time. Either before the monster in his head broke through, or before he collapsed.

A blast of hot air hit him from a split pipe above, and as he crept around a corner, he finally picked up on two scents. The first, he knew. Even if the smell of lavender was gone, he knew her smell. And, agonizingly, he knew the smell of her blood. That alone was enough to send him over the edge, but it was the scent that accompanied hers that nearly threw him into oblivion. Gajeel violently bit out a snarl and slammed extra force into his steps as he lurched forward into a run. His gut twisted, and he balled his fists, shadowed iron scales all but prickling over his skin.

“Rogue!” he wheezed harshly, barely sounding like himself.

The scent of the shadow user mingled with hers, and the emotions he felt all blurred together. He was terrified, furious, but most of all: desperate. Was she dead? Rogue had already nearly killed her once, and Gajeel had only just gotten her back, in a way. He couldn’t have her torn away a single time more or he might not survive it.

Gajeel slid around another corner, forced to come to a halt to avoid something bursting up from the floor below. His arms lifted to shield his face from debris, and peered through the gap between his arms to see sparks of gold within. Yellow eyes swung to fix on him, glowing through the dark piercingly.

The iron dragon tensed, ready to face off with the volatile, unpredictable subject, but no attack came. Instead, he heard his voice. “I know where he is…” he spoke hoarsely, a deadly calm in his tone.

Gajeel paused, weighing his priorities. If Jose’s greatest lackey had found her already, then finding him was his best chance of finding her. As dangerous as this subject was, Gajeel’s only choice was to follow him in unspoken camaraderie against the evil that had created them. He knew how badly this man wanted to kill the scientist, maybe more than Gajeel himself. But it couldn’t happen that way, especially not if Levy was there, or if he knew where she was. “Give me five minutes. With him.”

The other man was quiet for a moment, angry sparks flying off of his flesh, until understanding finally won out over his rage. “Five minutes.”

“Rogue…” Levy gasped, her body slumping with defeat. She was so tired. So very tired, and the life draining from her right shoulder weighed her down and started pulling the fight she had left with it. She could deal with Jose. Jose was only human and too proud for his own good. She had a hope of facing off with Jose and his ego. But this… him…

Still, Levy fell back a step as he advanced. But it was tentative, and his face was different. It was frightened, his breaths were fast and uneven, and his eyes constantly flicked away from her to check their surroundings. He didn’t look like the empty, obedient, deadly focused subject that attacked her with such precision before.

“Don’t run,” he said firmly, but she could hear some semblance of self in his tone. It wasn’t blank as it had been before, it almost sounded like he was begging her not to. Rather than ordering to, as he easily could.

Levy’s instincts still forced her back, and as if in response to his presence, a sharp pain ignited in her shoulder. Impatient, and unwilling to wait for the frightened girl to calm, Rogue finally moved forward quickly, closing the distance between them and took hold of her good shoulder. Levy went stiff, a pleading on her face directed up at the man as all she could do now was silently beg for him to let her live.

“My brother,” Rogue finally said, a waver in his voice that stifled her panic as her eyes went wide. “I need to find my brother, before they… before I lose myself again,” Rogue trailed off and Levy was reminded suddenly of what they were. They were people who had lives torn away from them, and they had those they cared about. Through her panic she finally recalled everything she had read, how Jose used the brothers against one another. How she wondered what was stolen from all the others to get them to comply. Just as she had been stolen from Gajeel. “I can’t… I can’t, if I see Jose I’ll…” Rogue shut his eyes suddenly and released her, shaking his head to fight off something she couldn’t see. “I need my brother.”

Levy understood then. He barely had a grasp on himself, brainwashing of that level was not going to be removed in an hour. However, without the presence of the one that controlled him, and with the possibility of getting something that important, it allowed him to break through, just enough. “They’ve kept you from him?” Levy finally asked, carefully.

Rogue nodded slowly. “I haven’t seen him,” he paused, furrowing his brow to try and remember, but he gave up with a shake of his head, “in a long time. They let me hear him, to know he is alive. So I know if I fail, if I disobey, they will hurt him. I don’t know what he looks like now.”

Levy had nothing to say, but what she felt was familiar. She had felt it many times before with Gajeel. Where he had told her something, more casually than she could wrap her head around, and it absolutely floored her. For Rogue, and what had also been taken from him, her heart broke.

Even with nothing from her, he continued to speak, and she could feel his sense of urgency grow. “X777… Gajeel, I can take you to him.” Levy started, her heart jumping into her throat when he spoke his name. “He’s the one the conditioning never reached. He’s our way out,” he added. “He’s yours, right?” The ambiguity of the question took her a moment, but knowing who else was in the halls hunting either of them, she nodded. The male inhaled, and turned to look behind him, wordlessly indicating their direction.

Having no other option, she moved to follow him. “This floor has the arena, as well as the research labs. The floor below us is holding… above is the infirmary and offices.” Rogue thought aloud, trying to remember the layout the best he could as much as he was trying to tell her where they were.

Levy opened her mouth to speak, when a shattering boom and the same unfamiliar roar echoed beneath them, knocking her off her feet with a cry of pain. Cracks shot up the walls around them, and the flashing alarm lights suddenly became blindingly bright as the air shifted around them. She could see Rogue whip around with wide eyes and look as though he had picked up a scent in the air, but it was hard to tell. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and with a loud snap the panic lights died and the alarm silenced. The only sound left was the steady rumble of the struggling structure, with screams and slams echoing from somewhere around them.

Plunged into complete darkness, Levy felt her heart begin to race and the urgency of the situation settled on her again. “Rogue?” she called into the dark, but nothing answered her. Levy pulled herself to her feet shakily and took a few steps forward, reaching blindly into the dark. “Rogue!” Levy called a little louder, flinching when another explosion rattled the ground beneath her feet.

Her first thought was that he had fled, and the next thought was what had he fled from? She had heard that roar twice, and both times the men she found herself with had looked like they wanted to climb out of their skin.

Levy moved backwards a few steps, whirling with the pipe in her hand to the darkness behind her. She looked in every direction, trying to follow the noises to figure out which way the halls faced, but her senses failed her. The fear started to build again, and she did her best to swallow it down, trying to shake the burning sensation from her eyes. Because now was not the time.

The blunette steeled herself in the dark, held her pipe out in front of her, and started to walk. Once it hit the wall, she was able to turn and use that as a guide. The sounds in the facility were becoming more and more terrible, and the uneasy prickle on her neck wouldn’t go away. It was desperate enough to think she could get out of here when she could see, but now that there was nothing to aide her, it seemed all but hopeless.

“JOSE!”

The roar bellowed through the halls, and her heart leapt into her throat. It echoed all around her, and she couldn’t pinpoint where it even came from. She knew that voice. She would know that voice anywhere. It was distant, and after a moment she picked a direction and kept her hand on the wall to guide her and move as quickly as she could.

The sound of something being demolished followed.

Gajeel’s fist trembled, shaking off pieces of debris from the destruction to his right. The white light, originating from Sting’s fingertips, fell upon him and also illuminated the slimy, terrible man whose skull was still infuriatingly intact. He had lost Rogue’s scent as quickly as he had found it, but Levy’s was still very much present. He could pick up traces with Jose’s scent, and the blood on his hands was enough to slowly pick the lock containing the monster in his head. Her blood, and her smell, were the only parts of her present.

Jose hadn’t been his priority, for once. Levy was at the top of his list, especially with time limited. Five minutes with Jose should have been all the time he needed to get Levy back. He hadn’t expected the other subject to agree, but he wouldn’t question it or risk setting him off.

But after all that, here they were. Without Levy. And he was no closer to knowing where she was.

Jose turned, and the look on his face, in any other situation, would have been overwhelmingly satisfying. The color was gone from his features, and he was a deer in headlights looking over his shoulder at the man that had made his own doorway into the room. His hands were poised over a mess of papers on the desk, light provided by the blank-faced blonde that had faced Gajeel multiple times in the arena. The walls of the room were lined with multiple fume hoods, and Gajeel could only guess that this was the hub of their ongoing research. And where every valuable piece of data was for him, it was pathetic that in all this, he made it a priority to come here first, to save his precious work.

“God damnit, Sting, what the hell are you doing!” Gajeel hissed, but the words did not hit their mark. There was a flicker in Sting’s eyes, but nothing much more. Even after all this, when freedom was again in their reach, he wouldn’t disobey the scientist and could not break through the conditioning.

“G-G-Gajeel,” the previous confidence, the assuredness of a man who had the upper hand, was gone. His voice cracked, his hands shook, and his eyes constantly moved from Gajeel to Sting. “I am sure there is s-something we can—“

“Where is she?” Gajeel rumbled, his question punctuated with another explosion elsewhere in the facility. “Fucker, I smell her all over you. Where is she?!” he snarled like a rabid animal, flashing sharp teeth.

Jose’s mouth hung open uselessly, completely at a loss on how to answer him as an entirely new revelation rocked through him.

He knew. He knew she was still alive, and the reveal of the information had not happened in a way that would be even the least bit advantageous to him. So what, if anything, could he say to the furious dragon? He lost the girl, but he also had her blood on his hands. Was she dead or alive in the crumbling halls? Had she bled out by now after he tore open her stitches? “I-I don’t have her.” The wrong answer, definitely the wrong answer, because the unspoken meaning was ‘I lost her.’ He could see the shadows gather onto Gajeel’s face, and unwittingly, the light guttered around Sting for just a moment.

The scientist inched behind his only protection, the desperation on his face giving himself away to the fact that he was grasping at straws and didn’t have a single plan of action. Anticipating the tense situation to break at any second, Sting widened his stance and lifted his glowing fists in front of him defensively.

Jose’s answer did not sit well with the iron dragon in any respect, because it meant that she was out there, in danger, or worse. And it was Jose’s fault. Gajeel tensed and straightened a bit, his shadows swirling right up around him in a quick flourish. He started to growl, but it turned into a gargle and he coughed harshly, the shadows flickering away for just a moment. Gajeel staggered, but regained himself quickly, even with a trail of blood running down the corner of his mouth that he hastily wiped away with the back of his hand.

Sensing the slightest bit of weakness, Jose forced a small laugh, “You can’t keep that up.” He tried, desperately, to pull together some composure to talk down the other dragon. Because in a fight with a clear-headed Gajeel against Sting, he knew who would win. Conditioning be damned, only one other suspect was consistently stronger than X777. So Jose had no other choice than to try and manipulate him out of a fight. “She wouldn’t want you to be this way, would she? She had so much to say about what she thought you could be,” he smirked, feebly. She may not be here but it didn’t mean he couldn’t try to do what he initially intended to with her.

“She ain’t here,” Gajeel replied in a cold tone that wiped the smile right off Jose’s face. “An’ as I see it, you’re to blame.” At that moment, a form emerged from behind him, matching and even exceeding his bulk. Yellow sparks flew off the man’s body, and the scientist’s horror was palpable enough that it nearly took over Gajeel’s senses. The predator inside him screeched, begging to tear into his flesh when he was most vulnerable.

“The halls are clear,” the newcomer growled.

“Y-Y-Y-You!” Jose nearly fell backwards, clutching his research to his chest as though it would somehow provide salvation. Every bit of his feigned composure was gone in a second and he looked like he might soil himself. This was over, there was no talking his way out of it now. He had only one option left. “S-Sting! Eliminate him! I ORDER you!” the scientist shouted, and the light user raised his hands, white light growing around his fists. “Kill them both or your brother dies!!”

Sting leaned forward to follow his orders, but Gajeel made the first move and rushed faster than his opponent had seen him move before. His visage, surrounded by shadows, struck pure, instinctive fear into Sting, despite the conditioning. A look of surprise broke the composed visage, and with a yelp Jose staggered backwards as a flash of white signaled their collision. Sting slid backwards several feet, eyes wide as he kept his steaming forearms crossed in front of him. Gajeel’s fist had impacted right at the center.

A frustrated snarl spread on his face, and Sting was just winding up to counter the assault when he stopped abruptly. His light flickered, and his eyes went wide with more emotion than Gajeel had seen on the man’s face… ever.

Slowly, his gaze moved to the side of the room, where movement had also caught Gajeel’s attention. The scent followed, and his initial instinct was to fight, to go after him, but he stopped himself. The reality, the true significance of the scene hit him immediately after, and Gajeel fixed his eyes back on Sting as he pulled his fist and backed away. Even the lightning user stopped, waiting to see what would happen.

“Brother?” Sting croaked, his voice dry and hoarse from lack of use.

The shadow user emerged into the ambient light, and without an ounce of hesitation Sting left Jose’s protection. He fully stepped away from the man that had ruled his life, going straight for what he had thought would be lost to him forever. Awareness lit Rogue’s features, accompanied by the yearning of someone who had just regained something long lost.

With this development, a smile spread on Gajeel’s dark face, and a laugh finally shook him, growing slowly. He turned his cruelly mirthful glare to the man who thought he could inch his way out the other door during the fight. “Ya ain’t got nothin’ left.” Jose was shaking visibly, exposed and abandoned. He turned in a final attempt to leave out the other door, but stopped short.

“I thought I heard something goin’ on here,” Cobra’s smooth voice emerged from the dark, and Jose nearly tripped over his feet, backing away instinctively to gain distance from Cobra… which only put him closer to Gajeel and the sparking behemoth next to him. “How interesting.”

“You all will listen to me! There will be consequences for your disobedience!” Jose cried out, sputtered even. He was hunched over the precious data held close to him, his gaze whipping back and forth between all the subjects, all of whom blocked his exits.

“I also think I heard all your staff fleeing the building. Guess they finally learned we just aren’t worth it,” Cobra added, smirking. “No one is helping you this time, rat. And you will pay for everything… everyone you took away from us. All of us.”

Jose looked to Cobra blocking one exit, then to the twins standing side by side with eyes fixed accusingly on him. Finally, his gaze settled on Gajeel, and the only subject more frightening and unstable than the iron dragon had ever been: Laxus.

Gajeel’s gradual signs of weakness brought no solace for the scientist, and he could only watch uselessly as both he and the lightning dragon approached Jose. Gajeel threw a glance to Sting, and with the wordless exchange, his white light disappeared. All that remained was the occasional flash of gold off Laxus.

Before Jose realized what was happening, something cold wrapped around his neck, lifting him off the ground. The man choked out pitiful sounds of protest, clawing uselessly at the iron forearm, and in the flashes of gold he saw the face of the iron beast mere inches from his. “We are going to destroy all of it,” Gajeel growled, barely audible. “The data, the papers, and you with it. No one will remember you, or your work.” Jose choked, trying to speak, but the grip was too tight. “I could snap your neck, or crush your skull,” he grasped the top of the scientists head with his free hand and squeezed painfully, claws digging into his scalp. He squeezed tight enough for it to feel the bone might break, but not quite. “But that’s all too quick. For all ya did to her… for even fucking touching her. For takin’ her away from me, for hurting her, scaring her, using her… I could, I should rip out your own guts and strangle ya with ‘em.” As quickly as he had befallen the scientist, Gajeel suddenly let go and dropped the man to the ground, backing away. “But you’re right,” he finally added, breathing heavily, his breaths uneven, “Levy wouldn’t want me to.”

“Five minutes…” Laxus reminded, and Gajeel nodded. Electricity buzzed in their ears, as Laxus moved forward to take Gajeel’s place. “Good thing… there’s a line,” Laxus said threateningly. Bright golden light filled the room, illuminating the scarred, chiseled face that bore years of torment and abuse. Loosening his hold on his power, electricity flew off of him in waves and the structure felt the effects. The lights in the ceiling came to life again, growing brighter and brighter until each bulb shattered one after the other, raining down glass upon the scientist who tried futilely to scoot away from the assailant. Another boom nearby in the building inched Gajeel anxiously back towards the exit, but he needed to see this. He needed to know it was done. He could not question for one more day that it was over.

“Remember the conditioning…?” Laxus growled, his voice like thunder. “Every time you had them dose us? Every time you nearly killed us?” Another heavy step in advance brought a terrified jump from Jose. “How long you kept me in the basement… wired up, powering your work. Locked away like a fucking generator?!” he finally roared, a bolt of lightning cracking the floor right in front of Jose.

He scooted away as best as he could and looked pleadingly to the twins, his final hope for any semblance of their conditioning to save him. Instead, the two watched silently with narrowed eyes, remaining close to one another, using each other to stay focused on their freedom. In his attempts to keep moving away from what threatened his life, he was finally stopped when a heavy foot fell onto his shoulder. Shuddering, Jose turned his head to look out of the corner of his eye to Cobra.

“Remember the people you used to control us? The people you killed even after promising us they would be safe? If we only obeyed?” Erik hissed, a grimace on his face speaking of his own loss, “You couldn’t resist trying to make her like me, could you?” his tone dropped, miasma beginning to seep from his palms. “This is for Kinana.”

Another pulse of the electricity signaled the end of the game. Gajeel watched the scream rise, the view of the devil obstructed by the two subjects and the flash of Laxus’s lightning. The smell that came next, of rust and iron and char, was unmistakable. And it was the last thing he needed before he could leave, savoring every agonized scream that filled the halls after until they went utterly silent.

Smoke had started to fill the halls, and each distant blast made it harder for her to stay on her feet. The weakness was very real by this point, and she had tried to pull on her bandages to keep them tight on her wound. It helped a little, but not enough to make a difference by now. She’d lost too much, and it would take her soon.

Still, Levy kept close to the wall, using it as her guide in the dark. She had found nothing, and no one. And since hearing Gajeel’s voice, there had been what seemed to be electricity in the air, even lighting up the halls again briefly before the lamps all blew out permanently. All it did was worsen her dread, and her urgency to find a way out, to find anything.

The sense of being trapped worsened with each minute, and as the smoke began to burn her throat, she could feel her resolve beginning to waver. No, I need to find him. I need to know he’s alright, Levy thought, pushing herself onwards. As she progressed, and turned several corners, she started to see a light source grow in the halls.

She squinted, and after turning one more corner she could actually see around, she stopped short. A massive, burnt hole had been blasted up through the hallway floor and directly through every floor above. Had Levy come around the corner any faster she might have gone straight in, nd the billow of smoke was enough to force her arm over her mouth and nose. The diameter alone was wide enough that it spread into the adjacent rooms the walls would have otherwise concealed. Through the opened ceiling she could see the floor above them, and ultimately the source of her light: open air. The red-black smoke funneled up, putting a damper on the skylight, but there was still enough that she could see better than before.

A billow of smoke suddenly grew from below, heat pushing her back just slightly. She shut her eyes and kept her arm over her face, trying to keep out the acrid smoke, but the coughs wracked her regardless. The pain followed, and she wavered on her feet.

Levy couldn’t say what prompted her to look up again, but across the opening, on the other side of the hall, she could barely see something through the smoke. Were it not toxic, she would have gasped. Instead her eyes widened and fixed on the silhouette of a shadowed creature hunched forward, focused on her. Red eyes glowed like coals through the smoke, and tendrils of black started to creep through the smoke and around the hole in the floor.

Levy didn’t know what else the lab had conjured up, what other subjects had been released, but the creature she could see through the smoke was nothing but intimidating. She shook, a wave of fear washing over her that subsequently brought enough of a sway to her stance that she lost her balance. At the edge of her senses she heard an indecipherable shout rise above the chaos, but her eyes met only with the empty space where the ground had once been, opening up to swallow her.

The blunette had only just begun to feel gravity pull her in when a dark blur appeared in her line of sight and she was pulled back in the other direction. Instinctively, and with nearly all she had left, she pushed sharply against whatever it was to try and save herself. Her quick reaction threw the other being off just enough that she broke free, but fell backwards against the wall of the corridor. She couldn’t bite back the cry of pain, and with tears starting to burn in her eyes, she weakly scooted away down the wall, but could barely manage more than a few inches of escape.

She watched the shadow of the creature loom over her for a moment, claws held out to its sides, and knew all she could do was wait for the end. She stood no chance against whatever else had been born within this lab if Jose still had control over them. She had done all her body could manage, and it still hadn’t been enough. Levy choked on a sob, and only one thought crossed her mind: “I’m sorry Gajeel…”

Levy shut her eyes tight and waited, but the pain never came. Instead, she could sense the figure get closer, and finally heard a soft thud on the ground in front of her. She cracked open an eye just in time to see him on his knees before she was suddenly drawn into something solid. Whoever it was did it so carefully, despite the secure hold, that it did not aggravate her shoulder.

The woman inhaled quickly in surprise, and smelled the strong scent of metal mixed with the smoke. Iron to be precise.

That was all it took for realization to hit her with the force of a train. The welling of emotions and the burning of tears all rushed forth at once and she felt herself buckle. “Ga-jeel…!” she coughed out, pressing her face into his chest. It’s him, it’s him… I found him!

Over the ambient noise, Levy could hear him mumbling something to himself, and she felt him bury his face into her hair and breathe deep before he exhaled a long and shaky breath. After a moment, she could make out his words.

“You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive…” Over and over, making sure it was real. That she was real, and not a fever dream born of desperation. Gajeel drilled each syllable into his head, lest he or the beast inside him forget for a second what mattered the most. Jose had not won. No, today had completely bested everything that evil man stood for.

Still, the smell of her blood assaulted his senses, and reluctantly he held her back to look at her. The source of her bleeding was obvious and the sight made him sick. She looked terrible: pale save the darkness around her eyes, weak, and cheeks stained with the tear lines drawn through a layer of soot.

Levy also had the chance to look him over, understanding now why she didn’t recognize him. He had shifted into the iron form she would have otherwise known, but his eyes were like a dark night with a blood moon. The shadows rippled across his hide enough to distort his silhouette, and his hair billowed around him as though alive. The hands grasping her arms wielded worse claws than she had seen before, and looked so very different from the hands that had touched her in the past. Shakily, she lifted a hand towards his face, but hesitated. “Y-you’re…” She couldn’t find the words she needed, stunned nearly to silence.

Immediately he faltered, guilt taking over his face. He had frightened her. No, that wasn’t the right word: she was completely terrified. She was afraid of him and he had seen it through the smoke before she had begun to fall. It was a look on her face that brought back the worst in him, that reminded him that he was still a monster, and even worse now than he had been before. All shadows, fangs, claws, and an animal’s demeanor to make him whole. She had started to look at him like that in her kitchen, when she thought he might have been a murderer. For all he knew she still thought that. He had failed her in every way, how could she possibly have improved her opinion of him?

The thoughts were written plainly on his face, and Levy couldn’t take it. She didn’t know how many more chances they had, or what would happen next. She didn’t know what state she would be in if they got out, she didn’t even know how much longer she would be conscious, and she didn’t know if she would even wake back up again. The seconds ticked awake and Levy had no idea many she had left.

“I love you,” the blunette blurted, urgently, terrified of losing her chance. “And I am not afraid of you.”

Immediately, like she had wiped him clean, the shadows fell away from him and his black mane dropped to drape over his shoulders once again. His body remained like iron, but his face finally looked more like himself. Although, he looked like someone had thrown ice water directly in his face with the shock so evident on his features.

Gajeel was stunned. The words, clear and unambiguous, blunt and straightforward, were unmistakable. He couldn’t seek another meaning, he couldn’t say he had heard her wrong. Levy had very clearly, very firmly, just told him she loved him. That ethereal, beautiful, wonderful creature, even in her state, had told him she loved him. And maybe she only said it because she thought she was dying, but she still said it to him.

Him. Of all the people in the world she could have chosen to say that to, she said it to him. Gajeel Redfox. The monster in the dark, the dragon in the cave, the beast through the smoke. He was none of those things to her and she loved him.

His body moved on its own as he eased forward on his knees, his hands released her arms and he took hold of her face. He remembered the night in her kitchen, when he had almost done this once before. Before everything had gone so wrong, gotten so confused. Gajeel paused to study her dirty face to try and remember what she had looked like in her house before this. He allowed himself to feel the full effects of his relief that he had found her, how he had thought she was lost to him forever. She had been dead to him, he thought he had watched her die in front of him, and here she was again. Alive, warm.

The words caught in his throat, but he didn’t need them. Without a second more of hesitation, he closed the space between them and pressed his lips against hers. Levy’s hand balled up in the front of his tattered shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. He could feel every part of him, every dark, torn piece of the man he was, become new. It didn’t matter that the world was crumbling around them. Each movement of his lips on hers brought a rush and a heat to his chest that was completely unfamiliar, but wholly welcome. He wouldn’t question himself, he wouldn’t question any part of it. She loved him, and dear god he loved her. Unequivocally. Completely and consumingly, he was in love with her. He had been from the moment she took his face in her hands and asked him to trust her, and he was finally allowing that to be true. Gajeel had no fight left in him to deny that truth, that he had fallen so instantly in love with his savior. It may have started as fierce dependency, but how quickly it had changed into something else.

After seconds that felt like hours, he felt her push against him and her grip suddenly dropped from his shirt. His eyes snapped open at the change in her breathing just in time to feel her falling from him, completely limp. Immediately his arms went around her waist, trying to prop her up and hold her to him.

“Levy!” Gajeel pleaded, but there was no response. “No way, Shrimp! You can’t pull this shit now, not after all this!” he shouted, scooping her up as he rose to his feet. Gajeel looked down to the fragile creature he carried in his arms, her eyes shut as exhaustion and bloodloss finally tightened their hold on her. But, she was breathing, that was all that mattered. He would not lose her.

Gajeel raised his gaze to the hole in the ceiling, urgent determination taking over his features.

Outside was chaos, a mixture of both Hargeon officers and the handful of his own that had come to the site. The entire group worked furiously to control the crowds, as well as receive panicked staff as they exited the building. Every explosion from within and accompanying blast of heat forced them farther and farther back from the facility, and the smoke had begun to obscure much of their view of the facility.

Entering Jupiter Technology was out of the question, as even the trained firemen deemed it too dangerous to enter, and chose instead to manage the destruction as best they could from outside.

Waiting, searching every face that managed to find their way outside was agonizing for the chief. He had never in his life felt so useless, and knowing that there were still innocent people inside was torture. Every time someone else appeared and was ushered away to be treated and questioned, he felt his stomach sink more and more. Every one of these people were lab personnel. Levy was nowhere to be seen, and neither were any other potentially innocent individuals.

Until finally a different silhouette appeared from the smoke, steadily marching forward with labored steps. This one wasn’t alone.

A sea breeze brushed the smoke from their view, and a flash of blue sent Igneel’s heart into overtime. “Levy!” he bellowed, immediately rushing towards the two despite protests from other officers, hand resting instinctively on the gun at his belt. He knew for a fact that was her, but unusual sight of the iron-colored ‘man’ carrying her gave him pause.

He slid to a halt and unclipped the holster holding his weapon, threatening to pull it from his side. What is he?! he thought. “Hand over the girl and put your hands in the air!” Igneel ordered, his tone absolute and cutting clear through the sounds of chaos.

The man carrying her slowly lifted his gaze from his cargo, scanning the uniform before meeting the eyes of the chief. The police… he thought weakly.

Slowly, the iron scales began to recede from his skin, leaving Igneel to only watch in distracted awe for several moments. The man of iron, slowly, became just a man. Black char stained his form, and blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. But even with this, Igneel suddenly recognized that face. He had seen it many times before in the case files, and that mug and those piercings were unforgettable. Gajeel Redfox. One of the subjects, one of the people who had gone missing all those years ago was there in front of him. But still, he had a hold on a very unconscious Levy, and he couldn’t be sure if this man was responsible for her state or a threat to anyone else.

“I said hand her over!” Igneel finally caught back up to himself, and ordered for the final time. He was surprised to find an answer in the form of a small, but relieved smile on Gajeel’s face.

Gajeel’s knees finally buckled and he fell to the ground, but his secure grip on Levy did not waver. “Take her…. she’s hurt,” he finally said with a hoarse voice, bringing a look of surprise to the chief’s face. Finally Igneel saw the red staining her shoulder, and understood. He released his hold on his weapon and immediately rushed to Gajeel, who carefully held the girl out to him. “Help her,” he pleaded weakly.

“You both need medical attention,” Igneel pointed out, taking Levy as carefully as he could to hold her in the same manner. “Come on, we need to get you both looked at.”

Astonishingly, Gajeel shook his head, and staggered back up to his feet with a gargled cough. “The others,” he finally said, focusing on Levy. She was outside, she was safe. The nightmare was over for her. “They’re still inside and I…” he trailed off, seeing the realization and immediate defiance appearing on Igneel’s face. Gajeel couldn’t say another word more, or he would stop him. Gritting his teeth, he fought through the fatigue and turned to trek back into the destruction.

He could hear the chief shouting at his back, but with Levy in his arms, he couldn’t do anything to stop Gajeel from disappearing back inside.

#fairy tail #gajevy #fanfiction #ftfanfics #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden

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dootznbootz · 6 years ago

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DIFH x2 Chapter 4: Hoarding?

Nalu multichap Basically it’s Natsu’s and Lucy’s point of views in which their away from each other and sad/mad about it. And if any of you have read my other fics, You KNOW It’s going to have more Fluff in it than a Build-A-Bear Workshop and a Pillow factory combined! Sometimes so fluffy that it may seem out of character at times so yeah! (Better summary in first chapter!)

On fanfiction

Rating: T (swearing, puberty, violence, some mentions of abuse and there is sadness but there is not smut or sex in any way shape or form!)

Words:

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I really couldn't figure this out and I've rewritten it SO many times but out of all of the ones I had this one was my favorite. It's really cheesy, but whatever. What do ya expect? I have a dairy farm! There's gonna be cheese! And honestly I was kinda just letting my writing go wild on this one...

"What the fuck are you doing Salamander?" Gajeel said, one metal eyebrow up, looking at the pinkette who currently had the top half of him flopped out the window, from his sitting position on the couch. In the tall man's hands, was the metal box that was on the couch earlier.

"I'm trying to see if I can see any sign of Luce but... it's so dark in there right now. There was so much noise before but now it's gone. What do you think they're doing?"

"Uh, probably sleeping. Which I am tryin' to do and what you should be doin' too!" Gajeel sneered. When Gajeel didn't hear a response, he looked up to see if Salamander or his blue cat was looking. Happy was sleeping on his green sack that he always carried on his back while Natsu still out the window but now whimpering and whining softly. Tch, what a moron… Gajeel thought. ...Can't he see how damn lucky he is? Even though deep down, Gajeel was in the same state. But by now, he was used to the pain of being away from the one he loves...

Knowing that Natsu was occupied and Happy sleeping, (He didn't have to worry about Pantherlily seeing, he already knew) Gajeel looked back at the intricate metal box and smiled softly. Patting the top, he opened it carefully as if it was the most precious thing in the existence.

Inside was a book, an orange T-shirt, and a yellow polka-dotted headband. Quickly, he tucked the items into his arms, flipped over on the couch so his back was facing everyone. He took in the scent of paper, ink, and lavender of all the items and immediately relaxed, the familiar rumbling from his throat began. All tension left his body all at once. Although the scents of the items were faded, they were enough to calm him.

The whimpering pinkette had his eyes squinting and nose twitching, searching for any sign of his most precious person but nonetheless, even the comfort of his absolute favorite scent of vanilla and fruity sweetness was nowhere to be found as he stared at the building. It took every fiber of his being to keep from jumping out the window and going to her… He promised Gajeel and Natsu neverbroke a promise…

No matter how much it sucked.

Natsu sighed in defeat, knowing that this was better than nothing. He was disappointed that he didn't get to see Lucy. But he understood why Gajeel didn't want Natsu to do what he originally wanted to do. He would be mad if someone told Lucy or anyone else about him sneaking in her home to sleep next to her. Speaking of sleep he was starting to feel drowsy.

At least if I'm here, I'll see her first thing when she comes out... She'll have that pretty smile on her face like she always does… And with that, the pinkette laid his head against arms and closed his eyes…..

But painful stab of abandonment and longing washed over him before he could even get comfortable on the windowsill, unknowingly yelping as it did. His hand that was not holding him up was clutching his aching chest. He felt as if his heart and guts were being brutally ripped out of him with some sort of poison. As if they were being slashed into tiny little pieces. His head felt like it was being ripped apart, as if someone was trying to rip him in half. It felt worse than motion sickness.

Mavis, how he hated this! It hurt so goddamn fucking much! It made him want to rip everything apart and wreak havoc on anything and everything that was in his way, keeping him away from her. The world seemed to spin and flip around plain darkness. He just wants to be with her. That's all he wanted. Nothing seemed right without her. Was that so much to ask?! He groaned and keeled over, sweating profusely. His hair and clothes sticking to his overheating body. He luckily fell on the floor and not out the window. He shook and shivered, pleading to any merciful being to just let him be by her side…

"Open your eyes, dumbass!" Was all he heard in his state of pain and then suddenly the world was...back to normal?

"Ugh..." Nope, scratch that.

"Hurts doesn't it?"

Natsu looked away from the ground and instead looked to where the source of the sound was, but everything was so blurry...

"Gods, is that you? If it is please take this pain away…" Natsu croaked, his face crinkled in pain.

"What? Hell no! I ain't no God! Where'd the fuck you get that fro-Oh, shit! HE'S BURNING A HOLE IN THE FLOOR!" Gajeel retorted, but Natsu just moaned back curling further into himself, making the metal floor slowly turn into a bright red and melting underneath him. Gajeel growled. "Happy?!"

"Aye?! What can I do?!" The blue exceed looked up from his hurting friend. He knew Natsu was too hot to comfort him even though Happy wanted to.

"Go to Lucy's hou-"

"LUCY! What about Lucy?! Is she here?! Where is my Lucy?! I need to see her!" the pinkette tried to look around but was too delirious and in too much pain that he just flopped back over.

"Oh geez, Lily please don't tell me I am this pathetic when I get like this?"

Lily just laughed. "You act exactly like this guy."

Gajeel groaned and slapped his hand to his forehead. "Whatever. It doesn't matter right now. Happy like I said, go to Lucy's house and-No, Natsu, she ain't here right now! Stop bein' so dramatic, ya piece of shit!-when you get there grab something of hers like a T-shirt or somethin'. Do NOT grab any of her panties or bras! You'll kill 'im if you do. Now go!"

"Aye, sir!" And with that Happy flew off, you could hear him yell 'Max speed!' as he went. Gajeel sighed and shook his head looking down on the groaning pinkette, "Shoulda known you wouldn't have been able to handle it right away. It's your first real night that you're tryin' to go to sleep bein' this far away from her without anything of hers, right? Maybe it woulda been better if I'd just sent your sorry ass back to her place... At least you can go to hers..."

"Wha…?" Natsu felt as if his mind was warring against itself. One side was screeching at him to go to her, but the other was resisting. Knowing that promises are meant to be kept. He was in hell right now…Where was his Angel when he needed her?

All of a sudden Happy burst through the window, landing in a metal bucket that made a 'clang!' sound on impact, panting heavily. "I got... the stuff…" He wheezed as he showed what he had in his arms. A little blue T-shirt, a yellow and pink tank top, and a little ripped white blanket.

"Damn, you're quick. Good job now give 'em here," Gajeel said, putting out his hand for the items which Happy gave to him, then began to walk towards Natsu. "Lily, what do you do when I do-"

"GIMME!" A blur of pink flew past him and suddenly the items that were in Gajeel's hands were now in the possession of the Flame Dragon Slayer as he crashed into a pile of scraps.

The boy, who wasn't even affected by the crash (it was nothing to the pain he felt earlier), marveled at the wondrous treasures in his hands, he fondled them, just indulging the fact that they were in his arms, as if they may disappear if he were to let them go. Everything about them screamed 'LUCY'. He brought the articles of fabric to his face as if he were trying to suffocate himself and deeply inhaled the sweet, sweet scent. Relief came over him as the excruciating agony he was in seconds before ebbed away until it was only a slight throbbing ache in his chest and head. It was only a substitute for her after all. He began to purr softly, something he only did when he thought of her or was with her. He remembered how he got embarrassed by it at first and smiled.

He and Happy were hanging out with Lucy at her house when he first purred. It happened a few weeks after they met. She was doing the dishes while Natsu and Happy dried them, when the two boys looked at each other, forming an idea. They snuck up on her as she was humming to a tune, wiping the inside of a bowl when they picked her up! (She squealed! It was so cute!) Next, they threw her on the bed and tickled her! She laughed her pretty laugh and yelled for them to stop but they refused and kept tickling her!

The boy and cat started to laugh also as the girl beneath them squirmed and giggled trying to get the boys to stop. The cat laughed because Lucy screamed 'Stop! I'm gonna pee!' and the boy laughed because he was just so happy because she was so happy! He noticed that something was vibrating within him he just didn't think much about it.

Soon, the boy and the cat decided that that was enough and stopped tickling her but Natsu still kept his hold on the beautiful girl. As she calmed down from her torture, she was about to punch and scold the boys when she heard something. With every cackle that Natsu released, there was a low rumbling with each breath. She said 'Wait, Natsu hold still!' before she put her pretty head on his chest trying to hear his breathing.

Natsu immediately froze as the color of his hair started to show on his cheeks, he was not expecting her to do that. He was surprised that she didn't hear his racing heart as she listened. He… really liked her being there. As if she belonged there…

The boy, distracted by the girl who he so very much adored, unknowingly began to purr louder. Lucy gasped suddenly and jerked away from him, making him very disappointed, and giggled cutely 'OH MY GOODNESS, NATSU! YOU PURR! THAT'S SO CUTE!' Happy and him were surprised to hear that statement, but Natsu was still delighted to hear that she thought he was cute, making him purr even louder to the point where they were able to hear it without being close to him. Happy gasped too and jumped up and down and shouted 'We're purring buddies!' then began to purr also.

Natsu made them pinkie-promise not to tell anyone which they agreed to.

Ever since that day, whenever Lucy came around, he would purr. Sometimes so softly that only he knew that he was purring, sometimes so embarrassingly loud that he felt like he was causing an earthquake! Sometimes he would hold his breath trying to make it stop! It was so embarrassing! Imagine if Gray or any of the guild for that matter found out! At least Lucy thought it was cute…

"-mander! Salamander! Get your lazyass up!"

"You didn't take this long…"

"NATSU! ARE YOU DEAD?!"

"Salamander's fine. He's purrin', ain't he?" came not so cute voices. Natsu groaned from his position, still breathing in the heavenly scent. Couldn't they just leave him alone!

"YOU'RE NOT DEAD!" Happy said well, happily and flew into Natsu's back for Natsu was laying on the scrap pile face first, curled around his precious treasures.

"Well, that's good. I'm gonna sleep now, and you two better be out of my house in the morning," Gajeel grumbled, his own precious treasures still in his hands. With that, the tall dragon slayer went back to the couch getting ready to sleep again.

"What?! You just can't leave him there! You need to help him!" Lily yelled in Gajeel's sensitive ears.

"Ouch! That hurt ya jerk!" Gajeel got up and yelled back at the cat, forgetting that he was supposed to be quiet. "And anyway, you know this is the best we can do for him right now!"

"What's going on? I don't get it!" Happy cried, then pointed at the limp boy in the pile of metal scraps. "What happened to Natsu?!" "He's hoarding that's all. That stuff you got him should last him through tonight at least."

"What's hoarding?! I still don't get it!"

"Ya don't know?!" Gajeel shouted back, honestly surprised.

"Tell me…"

All the males in the room stared at to where the new voice spoke. Natsu, was now sitting up, his eyes, the only part of his head you could see, staring everyone down menacingly.

But…

Let's just say that it is really hard to be taken seriously when you have a white blanket, a blue T-shirt, and a yellow and pink tank top wrapped around your head making you look like a mummy who went berserk in a paint shop.

Happy, Lily, and Gajeel burst out in laughter.

"You look stupid!"

"Oh, like you're one to talk, Gajeel!" Lily said, in between his laughter, holding his sides. "You do it too!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP LILY!"

Although you couldn't see it, Natsu started to blush under his makeshift mask, still breathing deeply while pressing the cloth to his nose and mouth, rubbing the soft fabric with his fingers. It felt so nice...

"Don't change the subject! Tell me what's going on!" Natsu demanded.

"How do you not know? And you call yourself a dragon slayer! Oh, and quit shouting!," Gajeel said between boisterous laughter.

"No!" Natsu shouted back, pointing a finger into the older dragon slayer's chest. "This obviously is somethin' that I apparently don't know! This has somethin' to do with being a dragon slayer right? I'm not that stupid! You've been holding onto that stuff of Levy's for the longest time and I need Lucy's stuff to function! I think Igneel said something 'bout this but...Arhgh! I don't remember!" He threw his hands up in frustration. "Wait, what about Lucy?! What's she got to do with this?! ANSWER ME, GAJEEL!"

"Geez, you're loud. You're just lucky that you didn't burn a complete hole through the floor so that I was able to fix it quick. By the way, you are stupid. Especially if you don't remember your dragon telling you this," Gajeel replied still snickering.

"Gajeel just tell us!" A little voice shouted. Happy had jumped in between the 2 blinked in surprise, and stepped away from each other.

"I already told ya. He's hoarding."

My goodness, give them some info Gajeel! Pantherlily thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he sat next to Happy who was now on the floor waiting for answers.

"Hoarding?" Natsu asked, tilting his cloth covered head.

"Yeah, at least that's what I call it," Gajeel said. "You seriously don't know what's going on?"

"No, I don't."

"Wow. Ok, uhhh," Gajeel said, thinking about how he should word this to the unknowing dragon slayer. He for some reason felt an older brother teaching his kid brother about puberty. "So, Bunny Girl's very important and precious to you right?"

"Yeah! She means everythin' to me!" Natsu responded, saying it as if it was the most the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, uh… Damn this feels weird to talk about. Ok, to sum things up, Dragons like keeping whatever is most precious to them close to them and safe. Whether it be gold and jewels or friends and loved ones. They're able to be away from them for a while, just as long as they come back to whatever it is to sleep. Don't know why but dragons feel reassured when they are able to be with them to protect them because when they're asleep they can't watch over them in the way they want to. So they like to be with them, makes 'em feel comfortable. Kinda makes them feel safe too. And with us bein' dragon slayers, we kinda have the same thing. That pain that you were in was basically your body telling you "You can't go to sleep yet, you need to go back to the hoard" The pain is supposed to wake you up or something so you can go back. Ya catching on so far?"

"But…Then why hasn't this happened to me before? I've been away from her before-"

"But you would usually stay at her house right? At her house, Bunny Girl's scent is everywhere. So in a sense, she's "there". At least enough to fool you or whatever."

That makes sense, Natsu thought. That's why he can't sleep without Lucy…

"Wait a sec, if we have to be near them or whatever, why didn't I just run over there?"

"I don't know man! All I know is that Dragon Slayers do this thing for some reason."

"Gajeel curls up into a ball and turns completely into metal," Lily stated.

"Thank you for saying that Lily," Gajeel said through gritted teeth.

"You're away from Levy right now. Why didn't you get like that, Gajeel?" Natsu asked, still playing with the fabrics across his face.

Not realising the can of worms he just opened.

"Because unlike you, asshole," Gajeel snapped, he stood up and glared at the pinkette, his red eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't have the privilege you do! I don't get to be with Levy every fuckin' night like you do! This is as close as I get to be with her! I'm used to the pain! I had to get used to it! And it was hell! It still is hell! Think about it Salamander! Could you handle this every goddamn ni-"

"I think I heard something. It's coming from up there!" Said a voice from outside.

The voice was a girl.

A girl they knew.

It was Levy.

Everyone up in the metal treehouse froze.

I know it’s a bit different but please be nice!

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a-flower-that-writes · 7 years ago

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Klance 2018

Finally able to post my Klance week! This is my fic for @sunflowerscientist picture!

If you like what I do, buy me a coffee!

Read on Ao3

He had been looking forward to this break for a long time now. It was seriously overdue and now he basked in the warmth of a star that he knew. A star he never thought he would come to miss. There was the sounds of cars down on the street, children laughing without a care and a parent warning them to mind the other people walking. It was...peaceful. These people and their simple lives that went on like a slow stream below him.

It had been a really long time since they could properly relax. Between keeping the castle battle ready, training both on foot and in the lions (and that was not even counting the political stuff!) they had all been looking forwards to a nice break from it all. Even Coran and Allura had been looking forward to a relatively safe planet to recoup their energy on, one that still existed.

Keith took a slow breath and held it, letting himself relax against the balcony railing with a content hum. Smelled like they were going to get rain. He liked the rain here, no risk of it melting anything important or smelling like rotten eggs. Just simple sweet rain that would feel soothing on his face when he turned it up into the drops. He could also smell the plants nearby, they were blooming soon. He made a note to take a few clippings with him when they went back but for now he just...basked.

Everything was so calm here, hard to believe it was chaos anywhere else. Is this what it was like to live in a bubble? Had this been everyone, before? Before Zarkon, before Lotor, before…...everything. He could feel the sun warm his skin and hair and wondered if he’d tan at all. Lance would be happy at that, he always did think Keith was unhealthily pale. ‘You turn red in harsh artificial light’, he’d teased. ‘I’d love to see you on the beach.’ Rolling his eyes, the paladin shuffled his weight from foot to foot. Keith thought he was just fine thank you, not everyone needed to look like they walked off a magazine for skin that was ‘kissed by the sun’ or ‘made out of honey’ or some other equally silly title. Lips pulling into a smile, he muffled a laugh as he remembered Lance’s reaction to that comment. He loved making Lance laugh like that.

He wasn’t sure what alerted him, maybe a soft scuff of a foot or perhaps just the air moving but a smile crossed his face just before arms wrapped around him from behind with a body pressing against his back soon after. “Gonna rain tonight I think.” Lance commented, chin resting on Keith’s shoulder. No matter how many times it happened, Keith wouldn’t get tired of how easily Lance loved. He loved Keith, loved the rain, loved hugs and kisses and touching and just being. Lance loved the rain more than anyone did and could always be counted on to try and go out and just run around in it. No matter if it would get him sick or not. (The first few times, however, they learned that not all rain was created equal. A few embarrassing medbay trips and stinky ointments later, Lance learned to check out the atmosphere before carelessly running out into bad weather.) He was also king of trying to bait people into it as well, and it was hard to refuse him when he was just so excited about it. Even though it usually ended up with Lance tackling someone into a puddle. Usually, that person was Keith and usually, that turned things into a mudball fight. A big, messy, slippery, staining mudball fight.

Keith nodded without a word, hand going to lace through one of Lance’s as they stood on the balcony. “Where are the others?” He asked after just soaking in the rays for a little while longer. They had been cooking, which meant Hunk was cooking, and the other’s were loitering around and using the cover of ‘being helpful’ to steal bites and nibbles as if Hunk was not very aware that they were doing it. But no matter how many times they would be chased out of the kitchen with a spoon, like unruly kittens, they would eventually migrate back toward the smell of food to bother the chef some more.

Lance rubbed his cheek against Keith’s loose hair as he answered. “Got kicked out, it was Pidge’s fault.” He replied with a haughty sniff, which meant it was definitely Lance’s fault, and he just didn’t want to admit it. He took a deep inhale, nose tucked into Keith’s hair before speaking again. “Shiro went to go help the neighbor with her twenty evil giant dogs. What kind of crazy guy likes taking so many giant dogs for a run when on break??” he asked incredulously as Keith laughed.

“She has three, very sweet and not at all evil dogs and they are well behaved, they just do not seem to like you.” He replied, turning to kiss Lance’s cheek to soothe his pout. “I don’t see why not!” Lance couldn’t help the upward quirk of his lips, however. “Pidge go back to catching up on their forums?” He guessed, knowing how much the green paladin enjoyed trolling ‘alien hunters’ at this point. It had become something of a game for them, using various emails and usernames and a slew of images to get the forums all up in a froth. Only a small portion were any real photos of aliens, most were off center and blurry images of the team. ‘Cryptids’, they’d called them.

“Naw, went to go hit the pool. I think their last ‘cryptid picture’ broke the forum.” Keith could not help but start laughing, knowing damn well that the ‘cryptid’ was just a only somewhat blurry and out of focus Shiro after falling into what amounted to mostly swamp water but a weird shade of very gross purple. It took 6 hours to get the stuff out of his hair alone, nevermind his clothes.

His laugh was infectious however, and soon Lance was laughing as well, the two ending up clinging to each other as they recalled just how miserable Shiro had been when the picture had been taken! Covered in gross looking goop that also smelled so weird. Of course being laughed at most likely did not help their case when he decided that revenge was a dish best served with bear hugs. Sticky, greasy, funky, swampy bear hugs.

“I can not believe it actually smelled like hot dogs of all things!” Keith giggled when they finally started to calm down, rubbing at his eyes with a few remaining snickers. “Not even the good ones, either. Stale ones that have been left in the water for two hours.” Lance added with a grimace, tongue sticking out of his mouth. A pregnant silence filled the air, not uncomfortable as the sound of laughing children drifted up from below once more.“This is nice.” He sighed, hand coming up to comfortably rest his chin on, while Lance did his best octopus impression. He had to shift his very bony chin a bit before they could settle down for a good cuddle, that thing could be a weapon all on its own.

“I think I recall a certain someone wondering if Hunk could cook it.” Lance commented, as if that someone had not been himself. The elbow he got for the comment was worth the laughing oof it wrung from him. “It was worth a shot!” He insisted, backing up when Keith turned to swat at him again. “Abuse! Betrayal! I knew this inevitable day would eventually come!” He shouted, dodging Keith’s swats in the most dramatic fashion he could manage on the balcony. “I expected the betrayal to come in space though! Not here on Earth, a double betrayal! You devious fiend!” Lance would have kept going, he had a few more lines in reserve after all, but he hit a pot and went down on his ass with a thud. Only for Keith to follow, not having expected there to suddenly be legs flailing right where he had been moving!

Down he went with a yelp and a thud, followed by another thud as one of the plants tipped over. Likely due to a limb flailing into it at some point. “Ow…” Lance whined, blinking a few times and lifting his head carefully to feel the back. A little bump, his elbow hurt more where he smacked it against the surprisingly solid flower pot. “You okay?” he asked, looking down at an almost comically confused looking Keith.

“....pft..” Lance watched as Keith started to snicker, making a valiant effort to stifle it only for it to grow into full blown laughter that drew Lance in. They lay there on the wooden flooring, pot dirt likely getting into Lance’s hair and laughed until they were crying. Every time one of them started to calm, they would look at the other and off they both would go once more. By the time they managed to calm themselves, they were both very lightheaded and wheezing.

“Oh...oh my stomach...please…” Lance wheezed, clutching onto Keith as if he could squeeze the giggles out of them both. Not a likely outcome but the best he could manage after laughing so hard. “...there is so much dirt in my hair..” he added after a moment, tone almost nearly petulant and grinned as it set Keith off for another round of short snickers.

“Quit that, my cheeks hurt” He gasped as he sat up slowly, rubbing said cheeks but his eyes were still smiling. “...Yeah you’re laying right in the dirt.” he informed Lance without a shred of mercy just to watch him groan about his precious locks. “Come on, up. Let’s fix this.” The pot itself had managed to survive quite well but the dirt and plant itself needed some rescuing. “Go see if there’s an open bag of soil while i find the broom?” He suggested, looking inside and spotting it just by the doorway.

Sweeping the dirt was easy enough and Keith was done before Lance returned, lugging a half full bag of dirt. “So..do you have any idea how to do this?” Lance asked as he set the bag down with a slight oof. Who knew just dirt was so heavy!

“Do what? Put dirt in a pot?” Keith replied slowly, not sure if Lance was messing with him or not. He looked between the pot and partially uprooted plant, camomile he thought, and back to Lance with a shrug. “Put the dirt in..?”

“Yeah but how do we tuck the plant in right” Lance clarified, nodding as Keith made a low ‘ooohh’ of understanding. That left two Paladins of Voltron standing there, staring at the pot and bag of dirt. Heroes of the Galaxy, bested by a potted plant.

“Okay..weelll...let's stand it up at least” Keith eventually suggested, kneeling to start fixing the very lopsided plant, settling it more standing in the pot. “Maybe just pat dirt in around it?” he said, shifting over so Lance could bring the bag closer.

By the time they were finished, both of them had filthy hands and Keith needed to sweep again but the plant looked pretty rescued. Leaning on the broom, Keith grinned at Lance. “I think that’s a solid point for team Voltron, yeah?” Lance threw a small pod of dirt at him before standing.

“Ugh I have dirt under my nails.” he complained, leading the way to the kitchen so they could wash up properly. At least it started as a proper wash up, but Lance shook his hand and it flicked water at Keith, who splashed him back and it was only not wanting to clean up another mess that prevented a water fight.

The two wandered back to the patio to let the sun finish drying them off, not wanting to waste the last bit of it before the rain started. Lance waited till Keith settled against the railing comfortably before plastering himself against his back and letting Keith take his weight with a grunt. There was some grumbling but Keith didn’t shrug him off and soon they settled down. Not even Lance’s pointy chin could ruin the moment by jabbing his poor shoulder.

“This is nice” Keith commented after long moments, hand having moved to lace his fingers with Lance’s own to squeeze gently.

“Yeah...wanna go play in the rain tonight?” Lance asked kissing Keith’s ear loudly, grinning at the half hearted kick that got him. “C’mooon, you know you wanna run around in the mud. I’ll bet we can coax Shiro to come bring us towels and then nail him with mud balls..” he cajoled, knowing he had him when Keith perked up.

“....Only if you can convince Pidge to hide as our secret backup when Shiro ends up tackling you into the mud again.” he bargained, closing his eyes into the sun again as Lance gave a cheer. It was good to be home.

#Voltron #Klance #fluff #sfw #Klance Reverse bang 2018

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dickie-gayson · 7 years ago

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SHENANIGANS

DUKE VS THE SUN AND DICK’S HAREM OF OLDER MEN

Summary: After a rough night on patrol, Duke just wants the sun to go away. In trying to do so, he manages to drive Dick up the wall about his harem of older men.

Otherwise known as: In which Duke is too stubborn to just move his seat and Dick is in serious denial.

Characters: Duke Thomas, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Luke Fox, Stephanie Brown, Harper Row

Genre: Family, Humor

Length: 4k+

Other: Just a funny, nonsense fic (that was only supposed to be like 1k wtf) i tried to give everyone speaking parts w./o making it too confusing. Dialogue Heavy.

Find It On: Ao3 Fanfiction

All was quiet in Wayne Manor as the sun sat high in the sky. Such a thing was not odd for the mostly nocturnal family. Today, however, was a special occasion. The previous night's patrol had been somewhat strenuous for the patrolling bats and birds, and as such, they were given a day to unwind and recover from the fatigue. Naturally, after crashing for a few hours, the members started to slowly rise and shuffle about, none-too-happy about being conscious, but alas, they were never known to maintain a healthy sleep schedule. There was always something more important to be done, even on a 'day off'. A day off in the Batfamily was really just another way of saying 'paperwork and investigation day'.

Duke slumped at the absurdly long dinner table with a loud, beleaguered groan, as if the sheer act of being conscious was a great torment of some form. Slowly, deep brown eyes rose and squinted at the window that let sunshine wash across the room. It almost looked as if the force of his glare alone could close the curtains. There was a soul-deep hatred one could only get after being put through hell and having to stave off the sweet embrace of slumber for more work. That, or being so incredibly hung-over and being forced to attend a third-graders school concert. It was almost impressive, really, how much it seemed that the sun itself personally offended him.

Another person walked into the dining room, loudly munching on their choice of breakfast (and wouldn't you know that's the only sound they made?). Duke was still getting used to living in a house full of goddamn ninjas. He purposefully ignored the person as they drew closer, in no mood to converse. Really, all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep off the rough night he had. That, and throw the sun in the fucking trash because nothing had the right to be that bright and cheery when he felt like he went twenty rounds with Troia.

His attempts to ignore the person were rendered useless as yet another person entered the room and he just knew shit was going to go down. No more than two (2) Bats can be in a room together without some sort of catastrophe going on. It's like a scientific law at this point. He let out another melodramatic sigh and let his head drop to the table with a 'thud'. Then, he winced and groaned again as his headache increased just a bit from the unnecessary abuse.

"Aww, what's wrong baby bird? Long night?"

That soul-penetrating glare was leveled to the owner of the teasing, baby voice. An amused smirk is what met his eyes. Of course, it'd be Jason ready to fuck with him. He was pretty sure the oldest Batkids didn't sleep. Ever. And that they had some unnatural ability to bounce back from the worst situations like goddamn bouncy balls. Duke wasn't fully convinced they weren't secret metahumans. Just last week he caught Tim trying hang-glide with one broken arm so he could meet up with Kon at four in the morning for waffles or some equally dumb shit. And then there was the time Dick walked out of an exploding building while he was on fire and just laughed about it. Duke was almost positive there was some amount of mental trauma at the very least, given all their head and non-physical injuries.

"What is wrong with all of you?"

There was no true venom behind the words; just the understandable irritation of a kid who got clotheslined by some ugly dude in an even uglier suit at two in the morning. Jason just laughed and Dick chuckled around his spoon of probably overly sugary cereal. Great, he had the two oldest to deal with. He could already feel his desire to leap out the window rising. At least he wasn't going to get beat up by a thirteen-year-old again, that's a plus.

"Before or after the Crowbar Incident? You want a list? I bet I have more problems than Dickhead."

At that, Dick gave a derogative snort and flicked some of his cereal at Jason, who dodged it. The bit managed to hit Duke in the forehead and his glare just narrowed just a bit more at the older vigilantes. Jason pointed and laughed as the piece slowly slid and plopped onto Duke's lap.

"I'm going to go out and spit on your grave."

The oldest hero laughed loudly at Duke's irritation. He had to put his bowl on the table and steady himself at the affronted look plastered on the formerly dead man's face.

"Wow, Duke, tell me how you really feel."

It was still odd, adjusting to joking about some of them having died before. But, as he learned over time, they loved bringing it up in every situation. Mostly Jason, if he were being honest. Duke was still too scared to bring it up to Cass and Damian. Cass was too nice and also fucking scary, and Damian already beat the ever-loving hell out of him once. He did not want a repeat, thanks.

The cloud formerly hiding the sun for just a bit finally passed and Duke was, once more, hit full force with the rays of the sun. His look of intense hatred was once more turned to the offending light. Without turning his angered stare from the window, he spoke up.

"Dick, call your leather daddy."

He didn't need to turn to know the eldest just choked on his food and was trying to hack it up from the wrong tube. Jason, meanwhile, was absolutely dying. Duke shifted to glance at the two. The younger of the two ex-Robins had one hand on his knee and was pointing at Dick with his free hand, laughing obnoxiously. Meanwhile, the older was glaring, face red from just having choked on Crocky Crunch.

"Shut up, Jason. And what do you mean 'leather daddy'. I don't have a leather daddy."

Just to irritate him, Jason laughed louder. The laughter seemed to have drawn others in, because Tim slipped in, looking just shy of actually dead. Behind him was Cass, looking graceful as ever. How she did it, he'd never know. Tim looked at the scene with mild suspicion, not that Duke could blame him. There was always a fifty-fifty shot that someone laughing at another member was bad. Cass just looked entertained. Her ability to read a situation so quickly was as unnerving as it was awesome.

"Why does Jason look like he's about to pass out? Did they break out the mullet pictures again?"

Dick turned his glare to Tim.

"Not you too! There were no mullet pictures this time! Jason's laughing because he's dumb."

Jason wiped a pretend tear as he straightened up slightly.

"Wrong, Dickface. I'm laughing because Duke is my new favorite brother."

Duke just looked at him with mild confusion. Tim seemed to mirror his look, though there was a bit more skepticism. Sometimes Duke still marveled at just how much like Bruce the other was. Did they teach 'paranoia' classes here or something? Was it like a required trait when being adopted by the big bad Bat? You had to be at least level 5 in either Paranoia, Nerd, or Athlete to join their cosplay group. Dick was staring at Jason as if just said the Riddler was the new fashion icon.

"That makes no sense Jason, but no surprise here. Also, why is he your favorite? He threatened to spit on your grave!"

Jason just raises an eyebrow in response. Duke wished he could do that.

"Yeah? And he didn't wear a rainbow polka-dot shirt with high-waisted jeans and dad loafers. Not to mention you had The Mullet at the time."

Duke couldn't help but let out the disgusted sound at the mental imagery. Tim visibly shuttered and even Cass looked at Dick with something akin to mild horror. Dick just put his head in his hands.

"Why? Why am I stuck with you all? Where's Damian, I need someone in my corner."

The words basically fell on deaf ears as Duke was still marveling over the atrocious mess that was Dick Grayson's fashion choices. How the man got voted the Most Eligible Bachelor and posted up as a part-time model when he was strapped for cash, Duke would never know. You could tell he grew up in a circus from the way he dressed. Not that Duke would ever say that because it felt like a really douche thing to say and he didn't want to get suplexed by the eldest. If he didn't stand a chance against Damian, he would get demolished by Dick. The guy had more fighting experience than most heroes in the business. So, for that, he could forgive his fashion crimes. But that didn't mean he forgot what he's been trying to get Dick to do before everyone derailed the conversation. Duke snapped his fingers for attention.

"Hello? Leather daddy? Call him."

Jason started to chuckle all over again, and Tim let out a startled sort of laugh, caught off-guard by the words. Dick let out an aggravated breath. Duke could see Cass laughing silently behind her hand as she watched the idiocy unfold.

"For the last time Duke, I do NOT have a leather daddy! And why do you need Midnighter, anyway?'

Everyone went dead quiet for a moment before Jason roared with laughter, almost on the floor at this point. Even Tim was having trouble remaining standing. He needed to lean on Cass to stay upright. He wheezed out between laughs.

"Oh my god, Dick. You just- He never said it was Midnighter."

Dick's face turned an interesting deep crimson, which was still frustratingly handsome. Duke didn't think it was fair, really. When he got embarrassed, he looked something like a frightened chipmunk.

"I...Uh...He's the only one I hang out with that wears leather and you guys tease me about."

Now, Duke was no expert or anything, but he was pretty sure if Jason didn't start breathing soon, he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Being that he was too indisposed to speak, Tim had the honors of filling in for him in the 'irritate Dick Grayson' category.

"Bullshit, we keep a list."

Somewhere between the stunned look on the veteran hero's face and the surprising snort of laughter that came from Cass, Luke entered the fray. He looked around the group warily. Good instincts. While Luke was busy eating his apple and surveying the scene, Dick managed to recompose himself. He narrowed his bright eyes in distrust.

"A list?"

After a noisy bite, Luke spoke up, not content with being left out of the loop.

"A list of what?"

From somewhere near the floor, Jason managed to choke out between panting breaths.

"Dick's sugar daddies."

"Ahh, that list. You add Raptor to it yet?"

Duke slammed his hands down on the table, catching their undivided attention. The sun was hitting him just right and it was annoying as all hell. He wondered if he could convince Superman to move the sun. Or the manor. He wasn't picky.

"Focus! I'm the one with the issue here! Call up your scary leather boyfriend and tell him to bring his boyfriend here."

Dick's gaze only grew more suspicious as he eyed up Duke.

"Why do you need Apollo?"

Tim snorted and faux-whispered to Steph, who had shown up with Harper and Barbara in the time that Duke was ranting.

"He didn't even try to deny being Midnighter's other boyfriend."

If one looked closely, they could almost see a vein in Dick's head throbbing like some sort of cartoon.

"Shut. up."

Duke, in a show of almost supernatural willpower, managed to ignore them and press on with his own devastating issues. Really, they should be paying full attention to his issue. He was the new kid and this was serious.

"I need Apollo here...so I can punch him."

His voice had been so calm and serious that it actually garnered incredulous stares. Dick had to take a moment to himself out of surprise. Luke just looked at Duke with something close to disbelief.

"Wha- Why do you want to punch Apollo? You've never met him. Also, he's super-powered, my dude."

Duke gave a flat, dead-serious stare.

"I know, I don't care. I want to punch him."

This time, it was Harper who piped up.

"But why?"

"Well, I can't feasibly go outside and punch the sun, now can I?"

Dick finally seemed to recollect himself, because he took back the reigns of the conversation.

"You...want me to call Midnighter."

"Yes."

"So he can bring Apollo."

"Yep."

"So you can punch Apollo."

"Correct."

"Because you can't punch the sun?"

"You got it."

There was another beat of silence. Then, Dick decided to break it with possibly the most somber voice Duke's ever heard come from the man.

"...Duke, what, and I mean this as nicely as possible, the fuck?"

"Listen, it makes perfect sense. Back me up, Tim. You're the smart one here. I can't fight the sun, but I can fight the guy who is based on the Sun God."

It looked as if Tim was actually debating the merits of the plan when Damian spoke up. The newest addition to the batclan nearly had a goddamn heart attack because he had not seen or heard Damian come in. He eyed up the smaller boy warily.

"Wrong. You can get decimated by the guy who is based on a Sun God. Because that is exactly what will happen if you attempt to fight him, Thomas."

"Hey, all I need is one hit and I'll feel better."

At the disparaging scoff that came from Luke, Duke shot him a Look. It wasn't quite to the Bat-level yet, but he was working on it. Hey, he was pretty proud of his Look so far. It scared a few of the baddies. He'll get there one day. At the moment, however, Luke just gave him a smirk back and spoke.

"Man, you'll feel a helluva lot worse, I bet. Not only would you be fighting a superhuman, but the superhuman's angry superhuman boyfriend."

Steph piped in with a look of exaggerated and obviously fake confusion on her face.

"Dick isn't a superhuman, though."

Dick let out a frustrated growl, clearly having fallen for the bait. Steph just smiled in satisfaction.

"He meant Midnighter! I am not dating Apollo!"

"Right, you're just dating M. Who's dating Apollo."

"For fuck's sake. I'm not dating either of them!"

If Dick got any more aggravated, Duke was betting his hair would either start turning white or just fall right out. He was mentally betting on falling out. A Luthor-style Dick would be hilarious. Meanwhile, Harper figured now would be a good time to join in on the 'irritate the oldest' bonding moment they were having.

"Yeah, he's clearly dating that one angry dude who worked with him when he was a super spy or some shit."

Babs gave an entertained look to Harper at the words. She seemed to be having the time of her life messing with her ex. The look in her eyes made Duke mentally remind himself not to piss her off anytime soon.

"You mean Tiger?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"NO I'M NOT!"

He had to idly wonder where Bruce and Alfred were. They were being obnoxiously loud for being bats. Dick looked like his head was going to pop, either from aggravation or embarrassment, and the rest were having a blast. 'Nothing like family bonding over dragging a sibling.' Jason finally seemed to come out of his laughter-induced coma.

"Duh, if Dickie were smashing anyone, it'd be Constantine."

The look of sheer incredulity on Dick's face was priceless. Duke would admit this one threw him for a loop. He's heard of the tricky magic-user who sold his soul however many times. But, he's never heard of the Brit liking Dick. Not that it'd be a surprise. Duke could probably throw a rock in any direction and hit someone who wanted to bone the original Robin.

"What the hell? John Constantine? Where did that even come from?!"

Jason just gave him a serious, flat look.

"He totally has the hots for you."

Babs gave a sage nod, as if nothing truer had ever been spoken. Even Luke gave a sound of agreement. Dick couldn't help but look at them in surprise.

"No, he does not. Where did you hear that?"

"I heard it from Kyle who heard it from Simon. Apparently, during a meeting of some form where he was with John, John wouldn't stop talking 'bout how much of a beefcake you are."

"Oh my God, just end my life already. For real this time."

Tim snapped his fingers, as if remembering something.

"Oh yeah! I heard about that! It was the talk of the Watchtower for a bit there."

At this point, Dick had his head in his hands once more and looked ready to resign from life in general.

"I hate you. I hate you all."

Duke cleared his throat and waved his arms to garner their attention.

"Guys, we're getting off track. We can talk about Dick's Harem of Older Men later. I have a sun to punch."

"I do NOT have a Harem of Older Men! Where do you guys get this information?!"

The joined 'siblings' shared a look. The fact that this might have been discussed before left a look of true horror on the first Boy Wonder's face. Duke apparently hadn't been around long enough to enjoy these sessions. He wasn't sure whether he should be pleased or disappointed about that fact. Cass started ticking off sources, much to Dick's shock.

"Other heroes. Villains. Oracle. Watching you and enemies. Very obvious."

Babs looked from her successor to Dick with a growing look of amusement.

"They're not wrong. We're keeping a tally on who's in the Dick Grayson Older Men Fan Club. Fifty bucks say you get a new member in the next two months."

"There is no fan club."

Tim shook his head, as if saddened that Dick couldn't accept the obvious. Steph was having a ball needling Dick.

"There totally is. Slade's the president, M's the treasurer, Thomas Wayne Jr. is the VP, Constan-'

At that, Duke shot the blonde a look of confusion. He was still going through the list of criminal profiles and hadn't made it to that name yet. It was the fact that he recognized the name Thomas Wayne as Bruce's father that caught his attention.

"Wait, Thomas Wayne Jr.? Who the hell is that?"

Steph, as if realizing that not everyone gathered witnessed whatever fuckery brought the man around, took pity on Duke and explained just a little.

"Oh, Bruce's older brother from an alternate universe or some shit. Evil. Totally has a hard on for Dick, anyway-'

"That's so fucked up, man."

He marveled yet again over the sheer level of absurdity this family went through on a near daily basis. And he willingly submerged himself into it. Great.

"GUYS! SHUT UP! THERE IS NO HAREM OR FAN CLUB.-'

"I think we established that there is."

'-SLADE IS DEFINITELY NOT THE PRESIDENT-'

"Oh, please, he liked invented your fan club."

'-AND BRUCE'S BROTHER DOESN'T HAVE THE HOTS FOR ME."

"Yeah, cus just anyone goes to an alternate universe to stalk the alternate version of their old partner and kidnap them to keep them."

"That is NOT what went down."

"Suuuuure."

Duke really didn't want to think about ANY of that for more than three seconds, because honestly, what the in the fresh hell. How is Dick alive with that many crazy creeps after him? If it were Duke, he probably would have just hung up the tights and called it a day. He does not need whacked out assassins after his ass, no thanks. Shaking his head, as if it'd rid him of disturbing images of way-too-tight suits and creepy old men, he spoke up. Duke still hasn't gotten to punch the overly cheerful ball in the sky or its metahuman counterpart. This is unbelievable. Bats got shit done except when he needed to beat someone up.

"DICK. Bring your boyfriend's boyfriend here! I need to hit him! This shit is too bright. Gotham ain't ever this bright, what the fuck."

"Oh, for the love of- Duke, if you want to hit someone, go punch Jason."

At that moment, Damian shoved his way to the front and center of Dick's view. There was a look of disgust and irritation scrunched up on his otherwise adorable features. Duke subtly (or tried to be subtle) scooted back from the duo. That look meant he was unhappy. And if it was involving his precious oldest brother/father-figure, Duke was not getting in the middle of that. He wasn't suicidal, despite what his late-night activities might suggest.

"Grayson, we need to discuss this harem of older men dedicated to you."

Dick took a deep breath and tried to appear calm for the youngest of the family. He gave the boy a patient look that only came with years of practice.

"Damian, there is no harem, they're being dumb."

Clearly, that wasn't the answer the young hero was looking for. He gave one of his infamous little tongue clicks and rolled his eyes.

"That isn't new knowledge. However, I have seen and heard things that would coincide with their stories. I do not approve."

Just like that, Dick's calm facade shattered. Honestly, he was impressed it held for even half of the sentence.

"I swear to god, there is no harem. There isn't even a fan club. None that I've heard of, at any rate."

Damian merely gave a contemplative hum. There was that look in his eyes. You know, the look of a Bat who just became obsessed with a case. It was almost worrying because Duke was positive the kid was going to take this way too seriously.

"I need find this 'fan club' and dismantle it before they attempt anything."

Jason was practically vibrating in his seat in an attempt to hold in his raucous laughter. This was clearly the best day he's had in a while.

"That's right, baby bat! Go get 'em! They're out to steal our precious big bird."

Dick shot him the patented 'Batglare', though years of exposure lessened the effects to the smartass vigilante.

"Do NOT encourage him, Jason."

It was obvious Jason heard him, but he pretended not to and merely kept his attention solely on the youngest Robin. Tim, seeing this as a wondrous and golden opportunity to fuck with Damian, pitched in his two-cents.

"In fact, I think you should join the fan club. Work your way up the ranks, like a sort of double agent, and then bring them all down."

"Hmm...this plan has merit, even if it's coming from Drake."

"Thanks, Dami."

Jason scoffed from his position against the table.

"He only wants to join for the t-shirt."

"Tt, no. If I wanted any Grayson merchandise, I could simply go to the dollar store and buy something. I need to ensure that these...miscreants have nothing nefarious planned. Grayson often leaves himself open in such stupid ways around them."

"Excuse me? I do not. And for the last damn time...you know what? Never mind, have fun trying to find this imaginary club. And you,-'

He pointed directly at Duke, the one who started this whole thing. Duke just gave him a squinted look, still waiting for him to call Midnighter for him.

'have fun trying to fist fight something that would destroy your ass. I'm out."

With that, the eldest stalked out of the room, having hit his quota for irritation and insults for the day. Though, Luke managed to slip one more in before he was out of hearing range.

"Try not to pick up any more older men while you're out!"

"FUCK OFF!"

There was a moment of silence in which they all just kind of reveled in the shared amusement. Then, Duke turned his squint to Tim as the sun still burned his retinas.

"Hey Tim, you think you can call Superboy?"

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