#so deep down he must be able to understand that nice clothes and titles and parades in her honor do jackshit for Kiriona | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myckicade · 3 years ago

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Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years ago

Note

I have a Shikamaru request! It’s a bit long winded so dust with me 😊. Shikamaru is assigned to protect reader who is the last of her clan that a lot is not known about. (So he also has the secret mission of finding our more about the clan and their abilities). They end up falling for each-other (of course). And after reader finds out she is pregnant she learns that Shikamaru was meant to learn about her. I’m seeing some angsty fluffy goodness! And hopefully a happy ending. 🥰

Healing You (Shikamaru x Reader)

A/N: Thank you for your request! These long detailed ones are perfect and give me just enough information to give you the perfect story. I skipped the pregnancy part because im not totally comfortable with that...hopefully you still enjoy.

word count: 5500

Shikamaru had been anticipating this mission for a while. The Hokage told him it was of utmost importance to be ready at any time for this clan princess to show up. He was expected to drop all other missions or plans to escort this woman, whoever she was across the country to her homeland deep within Frost country. He wasn’t expecting much, actually he was expecting probably the worst client ever.

For someone to request escort at the drop of a hat like that, someone with enough money to do so as well... Shikamaru could only assume they were an asshole of the highest caliber. Probably some old woman or a spoiled little child, someone he definitely would not get along with for a month long mission just the two of them. He could remember the urgency in Kakashi’s tone when he assigned the mission, the amount of trust behind his words.

Shikamaru walked into the office casually, hands shoved deep in his pants pockets. Kakashi sat there alone at his desk, looking through paperwork and sifting through piles of white sheets, each with different names and faces. He must have thought long and hard about who he was to pick for this mission, the boy concluded.

This was going to be tiresome, he deduced quickly. Another tedious mission.

“Shikamaru, I have an important mission for you,” the man said clearly. “You can look through these files, if you want, but we don’t have any clear information on this one, I’m afraid.” He tossed over a folder full of records. Death receipts, birth certificates, first hand accounts of battles witnessed. He didn’t know what to make of what he was looking at other than a common last name running across the pages.

Hirawa.

“What is this about?” he questioned.

“In about a month's time, possibly longer, possibly shorter, I don’t have an exact date, you will escort Princess Y/N Hirawa, of the hidden Hirawa clan to the Land of Frost.”

“Who’s on my team?”

He shook his head at that question. “No one. This is a solo mission, and I’m entrusting you alone with this. It’s important you keep your mouth shut about all of this until we know it’s safe, for you and the princess.” Safe? Just what kind of mission was this anyway? Obviously it had something to do with this clan, not that he’d ever heard of them. “She has a bounty on her head, quite large at that. But we believe she can become the key to mastering some ninjutsu, particularly medical jutsu.”

“Well, what’s her clan’s kekkei genkai?”

“That’s what we don’t know, and for you to find out. All we know is that there's some dangerous people out there who want this power, and we need to protect her at all costs, you understand,” he stressed, and Shikamaru nodded. This wasn’t that big of a deal, he guessed. Protecting one girl from some rookie bounty hunters, not to mention he was being sent out alone. This was going to be a walk in the park.

The worst part of it all would be putting up with some troublesome girl for an entire month. Making conversation and having to pretend she wasn’t getting on his last nerve. That would tire him the most.

“Rumor has it, she was never able to awaken her ability, so I’m hoping you can help coax it out of her and see what we’re dealing with.”

“Of course. I’ll figure it out.”

“Good. I’m counting on you. You should take the files to look over in your free time, you’ll have lots of it before this mission. I have copies here for myself,” he motioned to another folder on her desk filled to the brim with papers just like the one he was holding. It was strange to have so much information at their fingertips, but not enough to put a description to their kekkei genkai. They must be secretive, similar to how the Uchiha hides their secrets on the stone tablet, or something.

He left the Sixth Hokage’s office and walked away to his home, where he could more closely go over the information in this folder, try to deduce something from all this random information. He would get to the bottom of this, he was a genius after all. Whether he had the help of this woman or not, he would figure it out for the Hokage.

And so, here he stood outside of Kakashi’s office with all his supplies packed in his bag, dressed for a long mission away from home. The princess had arrived. He was to meet her and then immediately they were supposed to leave off to her homeland.

The Anbu officer to his left opened the door, and motioned for him to walk in. So uptight for just a little meeting, was all this security really necessary, he wondered to himself. As he looked into the room, he spotted Kakashi standing along the window behind his desk with a smaller woman at his side, wrapped up in thick robes made of wool, embroidered with thick silver and white yarn.

Admittedly, her clothes looked incredibly expensive. He questioned how she wasn’t sweating bullets with the typical warm weather outside here in Konoha. He was expecting her to turn around, to be this hideous creature.

“Ah, Y/N, it seems your escort has arrived,” Kakashi hummed, placing a soft hand on the woman’s back as she turned around. When he finally got a good look at her face, he was taken aback, nearly enough to throw him off balance. She was decidedly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Wrapped up in those blankets was a young woman, who couldn't be much older than he was, with piercing eyes that immediately cut through his.

Her hair fell just perfectly around her face to frame her features, the soft color suiting her eyes and skin perfectly. Her eyelashes flickered over her eyes a few times as she gazed over at him, and he felt swoon. She had the softest skin he’d ever seen combined with those mesmerizing eyes and the shape of her face which looked like it belonged cradled in his hands.

He felt this inert urge to run in the opposite direction from her, out the room and down the hall, back to home where he could catch his breath. He already knew his cheeks were turning bright red under her stare, and he could tell Kakashi was judging him with those dark eyes of his.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shikamaru Nara,” she hummed, and he felt faint. Even her voice was precious, almost like she was singing. He choked down his breaths, trying to keep his cool the best he could. It was uncharacteristic of him to act this way with a client. He was just her escort, not some pervert. They were going to live together for basically a month, he needed to get a grip on his emotions. “Your Hokage was telling me great things about you.”

“Oh, uh,” he paused, frozen without words to leave his lips, just an empty mind full of her image. He shook his head a bit, eyes now glaring down at the floorboards beneath him. “You too, Princess.”

“Please, just call me Y/N. Princess is just too formal for me,” she told him, waving off the title almost as quickly as it left his mouth. “Kakashi, it was nice getting to know you this morning, I hope to see you and your wonderful village again soon.”

“You’re welcome back whenever you like.”

She rounded the table and approached Shikamaru carefully, eyeing him down as she did so. She took in his appearance and his stance, the emotions she could see radiating off his person from his body language. From the looks of it, he simply appeared flustered and confused. Not exactly the most ideal for the situation at hand, but they would manage. Men usually had a similar reaction when they saw her for the first time, either they were in awe or they were trying to kidnap her.

He nodded in her direction and then to the Hokage before turning around and starting out the door, the girl following closely behind him. He could hear the swishing of her thick robes around her ankles, just barely skimming the floor. He still didn’t know her personality at all, but he wouldn’t mind looking at her once in a while on this trip.

“So, why are you heading to the Land of Frost?” he asked, and she sighed.

“One of the village elders is dying. They believe my kekkei genkai is the only way to reverse the incoming death, and its consequence on my people,” she explained.

“Why doesn’t another one of your clan members do it? Surely the rest of your family lives-”

“There is no one else. I am the last living Hirawa,” she told him simply, and he could sense a bit of ice dripping off her tongue at those words. How could she not be upset recalling the annihilation of her entire clan. “The problem is that I haven’t been able to awaken my kekkei genkai. I’m not sure what they want with a useless Hirawa like me.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about your clan, but calling yourself useless really isn’t-”

“How would you feel, Shikamaru, if you were the only person in the world with the ability to save a human being from their certain death and you couldn’t even activate that gift? You have to understand how that feels for me,” she told him solemnly, her head hung low as she walked toward the gates of the village right beside the boy. People looked at her as she moved through the village, they stared in awe at her clothes and her face and the unique glimmer in her eyes. And she cowered inward, tucking herself into her robes and the fur of her hood even further, away from the prying eyes of this village.

He stayed silent, not really knowing how to respond to what she’d said to him. The sadness and the anger in her tone, deep within her words, was immeasurable. She was in pain, a conflict with herself. He wasn’t going to get into that just yet. They’d only met a few minutes ago.

They left the village together and started on their journey. It was going to be a long month, that’s for sure.

________

It had been a week of walking through the forest already, days of sleeping on the ground beneath the stars, eating rations out of his bag over the fireplace. Originally, he thought this mission would be easy, that she seemed like a normal-ish girl who wouldn’t give him any trouble, but he was wrong.

She was too quiet. It was strange, walking with someone for hours without a single word shared between them. He tried to start up a conversation, and she would reply with one word answers, sometimes if he was lucky, two or three words. She rarely looked at him, choosing to either stare at the ground where she took each step, or up at the stars and the vastness of it all. She was lost in her own mind.

Every night, as they were falling asleep, he could hear her looking over at him, scanning his form for a sign that he was still awake. He would remain still, facing the opposite way on his side, head propped up on his bag. Then, when she thought she was safe, he would hear the sobs run through her weak form. She would shake and quiver, curling in on herself and crying out into the forest for only Shikamaru and the moon to hear.

He felt terrible for her, needless to say. The guilt he felt just from hearing her cries, and knowing her internal struggle was enough to make this trip difficult. His heart hurt for her, as strange as that was to say. Normally, it was easy to remain objective, but with Y/N, it was different. He felt attached. He felt like her problems were also his. It was maddening.

She laid on the ground beside him, the majority of her soup still in her bowl and her water bottle resting at her side. She stared up into the clouds, occasionally, her eyes would slide over to see what he was up to and then she would look back at the sky. “You need to eat. We have a lot of walking until we reach the next town, probably a week’s worth. I can’t carry you if you get too tired,” he told her, pushing her bowl closer to her side.

“You know, Shikamaru, sometimes I wonder why people like you Leaf nin even protect someone like me. What’s the point? I’m useless to you and the enemy,” she muttered hopelessly. He still pushed the soup closer until she sat up and took the bowl into her hands, taking a small sip from the spoon. “I just don’t get it. How can you call me princess when I’m just as normal as the next woman on the street?”

“Listen, I don’t know what anyone else has told you, but that’s a load of bullshit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, just because you can’t access your abilities right now doesn’t make you useless. You’re still a person just like everyone else,” he explained, stabbing his spoon into his soup as he found himself getting a little worked up. He couldn’t stand this self-pitying bullshit from her. Yeah, she was sad and all, but she didn’t have to rub it into the wound like this.

She looked surprised at his words.

What did she expect him to say? That she was right and then just abandon her out in the woods? He was beginning to think this girl was just plain stupid.

“It’s just been impossible since the incident to think of anything else. I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she sighed, taking another sip of her now cold soup.

He questioned carefully. “What incident?” He was on a mission after all. To discover her clan secrets and bring them back to the village to study. Even if she was being emotional, he could still gather some intel.

She bit her lip, and looked up to the sky again, blinking back tears from gathering in the corners of her eyes. She took a few deep breaths before explaining herself. “The day my clan was massacred. The day that those people slaughtered my sensei in front of the entire village and then killed my parents.”

He paused, lifting his eyes to look at her. She was crying, as he expected, silent tears dripping from her eyes into her lap. But she was holding strong otherwise, not a falter in her voice or a catch in her breath. She wasn’t even shaking. She was really serious about keeping these emotions private, in the middle of the night where he couldn’t hear or see.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he assured, but she shook her head.

“I’m fine. I should talk about it anyway. I haven’t had a person to talk to in years, you know.” Sitting on her face was the saddest of all smiles, a weak attempt at remaining strong. She wiped at her eyes with her wrist and continued. “I’m not even sure why they wanted us all dead, but it had something to do with the war and my clan’s actions. They were barbaric. They slit the throat of my sensei in town square and we watched her blood drip across town while they carried her head.”

“Oh, damn.”

“I know,” she agreed, “As sick as it is to say, I’m glad they only stabbed my parents with a sword. We used to be royalty, it took them killing an entire army of soldiers to get to the throne room to kill them. I was only a child hiding in the curtains, I had to watch without making a sound. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t even breathe, or they would have killed me too.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. That’s horrific.”

“When they left, it was only me. I had to walk my way to one of the outer villages for help. I was a mess, covered in my parents blood. They’d stolen everything. All the secrets of the clan. I never got the chance to read the sacred texts. I only know from my Sensei the very basics of what we can do.”

He absorbed what she had said, taking in each word. Admittedly, she lived a terrible, horrible life, one to rival Sasuke at that. He asked, “You haven’t been able to retrieve any of the texts, have you?”

“No, unfortunately. That’s why it’s taken me this long to figure out how to unlock my ability. I literally do not know how,” she confessed, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “It feels strange, knowing I have this ultimate healing ability and I can’t even use it to save anyone.”

“Ultimate healing ability?”

“Well, yeah. That’s our kekkei genkai. We can heal basically anything besides death. Blindness, deafness, rotting limbs, in some cases, paralysis. I’m not sure how it works, but that’s what it does. That’s why they want me to come home so desperately. I’m the only one left who can heal her.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he stated bluntly, and she tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“What?”

He reiterated, “You’ll figure out how to use your kekkei genkai. I believe in you. You’re beautiful, smart, and modest, not a fool.”

She found her cheeks begin to heat up at his words, and she leaned back, her eyes catching onto his. “Thank you, Shikamaru. It’s not everyday I get earnest compliments like that.” It was true. Normally, she did get compliments, but not the nice kind. She would often get harrassed on the street by men without brains, or recieve backhanded comments from people of her own village who hated her for what she could not be.

He shook his head, “Well, you should. You’re a strong woman, you just need more faith in yourself. You have almost no self-confidence whatsoever.” He was right about that too. Sad, wasn’t it? “You’re obviously a good person, so be proud of yourself. Not a lot of people could have gone through what you did and still be on the good side to this day.”

“I-” Y/N froze, her eyes growing wide. “Did you hear that?” she asked, her eyes flickering from Shikamaru into the woods. There were voices, soft and quiet voices, but they were still there, hush in the background. He stood up on his feet, and motioned for her to stay down close to the ground.

“Come out, whoever you are.”

And, indeed, a group of men emerged from the forest, at least ten of them. They sauntered up to the pair and the leader smirked. “We’re not here to hurt you, Leaf shinobi. Just hand over the princess and no harm will come to you,” he said, his voice musty and disgusting, like he’d been smoking cigarettes everyday for the past ten years. They knew, clearly, that a leaf shinobi wasn’t just about to abandon their charge and go running for the hills. His request was a joke.

Y/N wasn’t a fighter. She couldn’t help even if she wanted to. She was solely a healer, and even then, her skills were shaky at best. She could only do the most menial and mediocre of work on her patients. Shikamaru was against these men completely alone.

She felt fear creeping up her spine and sending shivers through her body. She barely knew the boy, had only known him for a week or so, but damn, did she like him. He was kind to her, one of the kindest people she’d met in a long time. She wanted him to be safe, to save her and come out on top like the shinobi of the Leaf are supposed to.

He turned around and waved for her to run. “Princess, Imma need you to run. I’ll come find you when it’s safe. Just go.”

She was hesitant to take off, but one stern look from him shot down any thought of staying. The woman gathered up her robes and ran in the opposite direction of the crew and her protector. Immediately after she left, she heard screaming from behind, the shouts of men in pain and men filled with anger. So much yelling. She held her breath, and kept running, running until she could only hear the faint yells of the men. She couldn’t hear Shikamaru. He was far too quiet to have those loud theatrics on the battlefield.

Y/N took cover in the roots of a tree, and just listened, felt what was going on around her. She studied the chakra signatures floating through the air, counting how many men still lived and how many were alive and well. Likewise, she kept close track of Shikamaru’s energy, making sure he was still going.

If he died, she didn’t know what would come of her. Would she be sold off? Murdered? She knew of the unspoken bounty on her head amongst the criminals, and that struck fear in her heart. All she could do was pray for Shikamaru’s survival.

After what seemed like hours but in reality only about 10 minutes, the screams and shouts finally came to a halt. The chakra signatures of most of the men were completely gone, meaning they had died sometime during the battle. Only some remained, and they were weakened severely, probably passed out or bleeding out.

Shikamaru’s alarmed her. It was weak, almost as weak as the rest. She crawled out from under the tree and started back in the direction of the campsite, keeping her head low nearly in a crouch to stay unseen. There was no telling what was happening over there or who was still out here.

When she got to the campsite though, her eyes widened and she nearly screamed. While the rest of the men collapsed on the ground in bloody heaps, Shikamaru lay in the middle of them, bleeding out from a ginormous wound protruding from his side. She fell onto her knees beside his barely breathing form and held her hands over the wound, trying her best to run her chakra through her, but she was weak. Only a faint light emanating from her hands, not enough to come close to saving him.

“Shikamaru? Shikamaru, can you hear me? Please, try to stay awake, okay?” the girl pleaded, resting one of her soft hands on his cheek. He sighed into her touch. It was just as he imagined. Warm and gentle, like the caress of a feather. At least, if he were to die, it would be in the arms of an angel, he decided.

“You need to head back to the Leaf. Tell Kakashi what happened,” he sputtered out, blood leaving his lips and dripping down the sides of his face. “I lived a good life.”

“No, no, no. You are not dying on me. Not happening,” she whispered. She continued to pour her chakra into his wound, not that it was doing anything serious. Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip, trying to keep them from falling, but she couldn’t help it. All these tears plagued her life. Memories that made her cry. All the pressure. All the death. Poor Shikamaru lying here dying after saving her life. “I’m going to save you,” she muttered firmly.

Pressure built up in her chest and she pushed further and further, digging deeper into her chakra reserve. It actually hurt the amount of effort she was putting in. It was exhausting, and after about a minute, she was gasping for breath. “Stop. It’s okay, princess.”

“Dammit, Shikamaru, I told you not to call me princess, “ Y/N shouted, and in that moment, she felt something shift inside her. A well of energy she never knew she had opened up and she felt it being filled not by her own chakra but by the men around her. Her body absorbed every last bit of chakra in their bodies, filling hers completely. When Shikamaru looked up at her, he noticed a slight glow coming from her skin that wasn’t there before.

It seemed she awoke her kekkei genkai.

With all the newfound energy she had, she channelled it into saving Shikamaru. Right in front of her eyes, his wound began to close and blood sunk back into his body. He groaned at the feeling, shifting uncomfortably on the ground. Finally, she had done something great.

And as she watched the last bit of his wound shut and the blood to seep back into his body, she found herself grow lightheaded.

As she was passing out, she heard him calling her name, and the only thing she could do was smile. She did it. She saved him. Her vision went black and sleep overtook her swiftly.

________

After Y/N saved Shikamaru and awoke her kekkei genkai, the boy gathered up both of their belongings, hoisted them over his shoulder, and then carried her in his arms to the next village. She wasn’t waking up anytime soon, he found that was probably a bad side effect of using the ability. It completely drained her. He just knew he had to move before any of those guys woke back up. He was not ready to fight again.

He enjoyed feeling her in his arms, pressed tightly to his chest with her head lolling side to side. Y/N was sweet and cute, with her little, “don’t call me princess” proclamation before saving him. It seemed she was just as much a princess as everyone thought she was, and a powerful one at that. She basically brought him back from the dead, and he would be grateful for his entire life for what she’d done for him.

The two of them rested for the night in a village inn just a couple miles away before waking up the next morning and setting off with a new bounce in her step toward your homeland where she was sure she could save the village elder now. He watched as the girl walked eagerly in front of him, swinging her robes by her sides and letting her hair loose instead of a tight braid.

This side of her, it was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. Maybe, he found himself harboring just a tiny crush on the girl who saved his life, the girl who took his breath away when they first met. Maybe he liked her a lot. It was pointless to have such feelings for a girl he would probably never meet again after dropping her off in her homeland.

But he could enjoy his time now, with the girl of his dreams at his side.

He found himself wanting more time with her. Much more time. He knew they only had about a week before they arrived in the Land of Frost, and it was depressing him. He wanted her to come back to the village with him and live there, just so he could see her face everyday and hear that sing-song voice run off her tongue.

Was that so much to ask for? Well, yes, but he still wanted it…

They found themselves stopped for the night or two in a village on the coast. She was tired from all the walking and sleeping in the grass. She was willing to spend a few dollars to have a nice bed to sleep in for the night. She booked a room at one of the inns in town and collapsed into the mattress in the room, throwing her robes to the side and cuddling into the comforter. It had been so long since she was living in such comfortable conditions.

He took a seat beside her and pulled out a book, flipping to the most recent page and diving in. He was more than happy to finally rest. He was lazier than she was, after all. They had been walking for almost a month now, he was tired of it. The only thing that kept him going was seeing her smile every now and then, especially the ones directed at him, or in response to something he said.

Something about those smiles just made him feel good inside. It was sickening. These mushy, gushy feelings he was having. He was beginning to think he might be falling for the girl, like, falling in love. He was disturbed. Was he really that weak to a pretty face, soft hands, and a warm heart?

“Shikamaru?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll be home in a week, and you’ll have to go back to the Leaf Village,” she said. He nodded. At that point, they would go their separate ways and it would all be over, this friendship they had. He’d never felt so torn about a mission until now.

He replied casually, “Yeah. Time flies, huh?”

She held her breath for a moment, thinking over her next words very carefully. She’d actually been pondering when she was gonna tell him over the last few days, thinking over every way the scenario could play out. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to leave you, Shikamaru,” she confessed, finally letting go of the breath she was holding.

He raised a brow, setting down his book and turning to face her. “What do you mean?”

“Well...it’s just that your Hokage seems to really like me, and I don’t really have a home anymore with my clan gone,” she mumbled, twiddling her fingers in her lap. “I was thinking maybe after I heal the elders and the village that I could go home with you instead. Live in the leaf village.”

He just looked at her. Had all his longing been for nothing? Could she really mean it? Coming home with him? Could his future really involve seeing her every day, introducing her to his best friends, and healing his people when they were injured?

“I mean, if you don’t think it’s a good idea, though, I totally get it-”

“No! I-I love that idea, actually.”

“Really?”

“Would I say it if I didn’t mean it?”

He watched as her lips curled into a bright smile and she clasped her hands together. “Shikamaru, I’m so happy. You and the other Leaf nin are the only people to show me any kindness in a long time. I get to go home to people that will care about me.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty good at that back in the Leaf. Caring, that is.”

She fell back against the bed and sighed, curling up in the sheets once again. He watched as she smiled into the covers and closed her eyes, relishing in this feeling of newfound freedom and happiness, of the hope she found in him and the village. Despite finding women troublesome most of the time, he was willing to go through trouble for her. He felt like he’d do just about anything for this girl.

So unlike him. Tch. Get a grip, Shika.

Her next words had him melting like putty in her hands though. He just couldn’t help it.

"I'm glad you were assigned this mission with me. You helped me awaken my abilities, and I think it was fate that brought us together for that to happen," she sighed. "This meeting, you and I, it was always meant to be. I'm sure of it now."

"Maybe you're right. I wouldn't know," he replied.

It was quiet for a while, just her lost in her own dreams, her own thoughts. Her eyes trailed over to him, and she just knew she was swoon. With his lazy grin and his thoughtful gaze. It was so obvious to her now.

She confessed, “I think I like you. As more than just a friend, Shikamaru. I know I probably shouldn’t be telling you this considering I still need you to escort me to the village and all, and you might not want me to go back to the Leaf with you now, but I just-”

He couldn’t wait anymore. He was going crazy. Finally, he kissed her.

She felt his hands resting on either side of her head and his lips pressed carefully to hers, testing the waters. She brought her own hands up to cup his own, bringing him closer and deeper into the kiss. She smiled and sighed, enjoying the feeling of pure bliss. It had been so long since she felt something so good. Something so sweet.

“You like me too?”

“You’re dumb as hell.”

And he kissed her again. And again. And maybe a couple more times after that.

#shikamaru x reader #naruto x reader #shikamaru x you #naruto #shikamaru nara #shikamaru imagine #shikamaru one shot #naruto one shot #naruto imagine #imagine #x reader #oneshot #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #shikamaru x y/n

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thewritetofreespeech · 4 years ago

Text

Words: 5000+

Rating: M

Pairing: Benimaru (TSSK) x Reader

Summary: You were husband & wife in name only.

AO3

The moon was bright & crisp in the sky over Rimuru. Even without your candle light, you would probably be able to see clearly into your mirror as you brushed out your hair, preparing for bed. It had been a challenging day.

Keeping Shion and Shuna from destroying their Lord with their love was a full-time job sometimes. Being the buffer between them was sometimes more than your poor human body could take; a fact Rimuru-sama was often concerned about. You usually brushed it off with a ‘better me than you’ remark as his peril would be far more of a detriment to others than you, but appreciated his concern. Besides, neither ogre-ess would intentionally hurt you. Worst you’d ever come away with before was a good goose egg from Shion swinging around Hercules’s willy-nilly and caught you in the back of the head. It was an accident, and she could have easily crushed your head like a melon, but Shion still cried for almost 3 days after every time she saw you in apology.

You chuckle a little at the memory. How wonderfully problematic your life had become in this past year. You wouldn’t call it ‘blissful’. It had it’s challenges like most. But your life taken an interest, wonderful turn that had led you to this life you wouldn’t trade anything for. You were safe. You were loved. You were a respected person when just some months ago you were nobody and nothing. How quickly the world turns.

A knock at your door halted the comb in your tresses and you look up surprised by the sound. “Who is it?” You ask. Curious who would be at your door so late at night.

“It’s me.” Your eyes blink in surprise as you hear the familiar deep timber of Benimaru behind the frame. “May I come in?”

You stammer out a reply of ‘one moment’ as you adjust yourself to make your appearance more presentable and told him to come in. It was embarrassing to have him see you in your night clothes. But if he was coming here so late at night, it must be important. Your husband never came to your chambers this late at night.

The title of ‘husband’ was in name only. You and Benimaru were not romantically involved, nor had you chosen each other completely of your own free will. He had saved you, along with Rimuru-sama and the rest of the Kijin, when they defeated the great bandit army that had been sweeping the east. Once just thugs of human and monsters alike, they had grown into a real threat in the land taking anything they please. Money. Goods. Women. When they came to your small village, they had burned it down and had taken you with them when they left. You were their prisoner and slave for nearly two months before Rimuru-sama and his band had come along.

You still remember seeing them for the first time. Bright and regal. A peasant before being a slave, you had never seen such fine strange clothes before. Nor the impending presence of the man in front of you when he’d come upon you.

“I claim this woman as my own.” They were the first words he’d ever said to you. Then he picked you up over his shoulder and carried you away with his band while the smoldering embers of the great bandit army died out in the distance.

At first, you thought it was all going to be the same. One capture was no different than the last; though you were a little concerned about an ogre being your master than a human. But how much worse could it be? The last human captor you had had been a true monster. Being owned by a real one could not be that different. Or at least that was what you thought at first.

The ogres and Rimuru-sama had been impossibly kind. They tended to your wounds from your long capture. Gave you a place to sleep. Clothes. Fed you, although there was some debate on which ogre-ess’s cooking would ‘best suit you’, and treated you as an equal. You were incredibly moved by their generosity. They were even willing to take you home. And when you told them “I have no home” they seemed genuinely hurt by that.

You of course explained to them what happened, and realized now that you really had no place to go. You thought you would die in the bandit camp. So the thought had never crossed your mind where you would go should your imprisonment be over. You were lost and alone in the world. No money. No home. No family. Even if you left, who was to say you wouldn’t be taken up by another group who found your helplessness easy pickings? Or worse, going to that life on your own because you had no other choices…..

“You’re staying here.” Benimaru had announced, much to the surprise of everyone. “You’re my woman now, remember? I defeated those fools and claimed you as my prize. This is your home now. You’re staying here.”

There was a loud commotion from the group as they all thought he had been joking but, apparently, he wasn’t. While the energetic group argued, you looked at Benimaru critically and realized what he was doing. He knew that if you didn’t belong to someone, you could easily be taken by another. If not the remanences of the great bandit army, but someone else; as you feared. Being his woman, letting him lay claim, offered you protection you couldn’t afford on your own. “Ok,” you’d told him. Your soft voice somehow ringing out over the crowd.

Rimuru-sama had of course forbade his general from ‘keeping’ a woman. He said if he wanted to do this, he would have to do the honorable thing and marry you. It had been surprising how quickly he agreed. Then asked if you would be alright with it and you’d said yes. You had been married the next day, and were then husband & wife, and that was the end of it.

Your married life was that of about the same as anyone else in the close group. You weren’t intimate. You didn’t share secrets or stories. You didn’t even sleep in the same quarters of the estate. Aside from a few group outings, communal meals, and when he popped in on Shuna when you were around, you honestly rarely saw your ‘husband’.

Which was why it was so surprising he was here now, at this late hour.

“What is it Benimaru-sama? Is something wrong?” You ask, looking up at him from where you’d been sitting on the floor before he sat down too. His expression was placid, so it was hard to tell if something was going on.

“The envoy from Blumund is leaving tomorrow.” His eyes fixed on the hardwood under your knees.

“Yes, I know. He told me. He’s a little hard to miss.” You reply with a soft chuckle.

The envoy in question was a nice man. Tall, lean. A little bit older than you, but still a jovial person. Rimuru-sama had set you with the important task of keeping him company and being his escort during his stay. His immediate council in the Kijin were nice, but they sometimes lack the social grace or understanding of human culture. He didn’t want to offend the man and trusted you could keep him company during his stay.

“He’s rather taken with you.” Benimaru then stated. Taking you a bit by surprise. “He wants to take you back to Blumund with him.”

Your bit of surprise turned into full blown shock. “W…What are you talking about??”

“He wants to take you back to Blumund with him.” He repeated. As if somehow that made you understand completely. “He said he thinks you’re very beautiful, and charming, and that it would be a better fit for you to live among humans, rather than here in Rimuru with none of them. He talked to Rimuru-sama about this.”

“And Rimuru-sama told you about this?”

“I was there.” Benimaru stated after he shook his head. “He asked for us to severe our bond so you could go with him. So you could marry him.”

Your eyes probably bug out of your head now. Were you being proposed to by proxy by your own husband?!?

“How could he ask such a thing?!”

“Like I said, he’s taken with you.”

“That’s not the point! How am I supposed to marry someone else when I’m already married?!”

“He knows our marriage isn’t consummated.” His eyes finally look up to catch yours.

You feel your whole body turn red. Now you have to look away to stare at the floor. It was true. Your marriage wasn’t consummated. It had been something done to offer you protection and stability. It had never been about love. So you have never laid with your husband as he wished to respect your virtue. “How crude.” You mutter. Embarrassed, more than anything, as you were sure people knew about your unclaimed marriage, but no one would dare bring it up until now.

“Do you want to go with him?”

You look up again and offer a soft noise of surprise at the question. “Do you want to go with him?” He repeated. “As you said, he’s a good man. He has fortune, and power. You’d be a respected woman among your people. You’d be among your people.” Maybe you imagined it, but you thought you saw Benimaru wince at that. “You don’t have to stay here anymore. You don’t have to stay with me. You’re established enough now to make your own choices. You can be free.”

Free? The word played over in your head for a moment. The sheer concept completely foreign to you at the moment.

You’d never been free. First you belonged to your family. Then the bandits. Then Benimaru. Though you had freedom on occasion, you had never been truly free. And now that you had it, you found the idea ironically suffocating. You could choose to leave. Leave Rimuru City and start a new life as a woman of prominence in Blumund. But what if you didn’t want to leave?

“D…Do you want me to leave?” The kijin looked up at you again with a confused expression at your soft words. “If you want me to leave I will. But…I don’t want to leave all of you. I love being here, and being with Shion, and Shura, Rimuru-sama and….you. My ‘people’ have never been kind to me, so I really don’t want to go back to them. I want to stay here. We don’t have to be married anymore, if that’s the problem. We can still break our bond, if that’s what you want. But I’d like to – “That’s not what I want!”

Your eyes flicker up. Startled by the red Kijin’s roar and the burning fire resting in his eyes. “I don’t want to break our bond! I don’t want you to go with him! Do you have any idea how hard it was not to tear that man’s head off at the table when he said that?! I wanted to gouge his eyes out for saying you were beautiful! I wanted to rip out his heart out for ever letting you rest in it! You’re my woman, and my wife, and he thinks he can just say those things to me and live! He should kiss Rimuru-sama’s feet before he leaves because he’s the only reason that wretch is still breathing!”

Silence passed between you for a moment as you were completely stunted into speechlessness by Benimaru’s words. You had never expected such a passionate response out of the man. Until now, you were sure his only feelings toward you were ambivalence and mild friendship. The way he just ‘my wife’ to you, however, let you know that he had thought of this more than just a marriage of convenience. Your body flushed hot again as your heart beat hammered in your chest. “Benimaru….sama?”

“Don’t go with him.” The kijin repeated. Calmer this time as his expression seemed to morph into sadness at the thought of you leaving. “I can’t stand the idea of you leaving with him. When we first met, and I took you as my woman & wife, I will admit that I did it out of pity for you. You lost everything, and had nothing. I know what that’s like and wished to spare you. I thought that, after a few months, you would have a good enough reputation as the former wife of the Ogre Prince, Commander of the Jura forces, that we could break our bond honorably and you could make your own path in the world without fear. But, as time went on, I became more and more attached to you. Your kindness in spite of everything you endured. Your determination. Your desire to work hard to make things better for everyone here. I grew to fall in love with you and I couldn’t let you go. I know it was selfish, and that I’m being selfish now, but please don’t go.”

Your heart was still hammering so hard in your chest that you were scared you might faint. You felt like you could swoon at any moment. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”

He looked down and started to fidget. “I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same.” His confession less confident this time. “You weren’t really given much of a choice in our marriage. I was afraid that you thought of me as just another man who had taken you. If you didn’t feel the same I could live with it, but knowing was – “That’s not true!”

It was Benimaru’s turn for his eyes to flicker up and be stunned by your confession. Apparently you had more in common than you thought. “I’ve never thought of you that way! If anything, I’ve only ever seen you as my rescuer. You saved me from a horrible existence as a slave. You gave this life that is so wonderful. With friends, and people I can’t live without anymore. I can’t begin to repay you. Or tell you how I feel….”

All these feelings and emotions were rushing to the surface now the more you spoke. You had always been fond of Benimaru. Your strong, brave protector. You just assumed that he wanted nothing to do with you. The distance he put between you making it very clear. So you had pushed your feelings toward the back of your heart. Forgetting them until now, where they crashed to the front like a dam had burst.

“[Y/N]….” You look up into the red head’s eyes when he said your name. Whispered it, really, like it was some secret plea. His hand then reached out slowly to cup your cheek. Those battle calloused hands incredibly gentle against your skin. You really might swoon at the juxtaposition.

Those burning red orbs look at you in earnest before they flicker down to your lips. A silent request. One you eagerly receive.

The only time you had kissed your husband before this was at your wedding. To seal your bond. That, however, had been just a simple peck on the lips to meet the contract. This was a real kiss. Your lips pressing together in committed passion. Intense, but both of you still too shy it seemed to go past pressing your lips soundly together.

“[Y/N],” Benimaru said again as you press your foreheads together after your kiss. You don’t ever think you’ve heard your name sound so sweet. “Become my woman and my wife. Truly. You didn’t get a choice when we first met, but I ask you this now to make your own decision. Will you be mine?”

Your heart swelled unbearably tight in your chest before you nodded against his forehead. “Yes. Yes, I want to be your woman and your wife. Truly.”

You can feel the smile on his lips when he kissed you again. More deeply this time. His tongue snaked into your mouth against yours. The way he was kissing you making your legs feel weak to the point that you were happy you were sitting down. However, if they had buckled, your strong husband could easily pick you up in his arms. A shiver racing down your spine at the lewd thought that had just passed through you.

“Aah…I knew it. This is why I stayed away from you.” Benimaru said, finally letting you go. Your lips were kiss swollen now, and you were having a hard time understanding what he was talk about. “Every time I was near you, I wanted to claim you.” He explained. His expression looking deliriously happy as he examined his handiwork on your lips. “It was so hard to even be in the same room as you with your scent always hounding me every moment I was near. I had to stay away so I wouldn’t do anything horrible to you. But then that was its own torture as well. Near, apart. Both were an agony I couldn’t face somedays. Now that I have you though, I’ll never let you away from my side. You’ve summoned the beast in me. I hope you’re prepared.”

A loud squeak left your lips as the sneaky ogre flipped you. Instantly going from sitting on your ankles to flat on your back. Your world righted again and was filled with Benimaru as he leaned on top of you. His expression soft but heated, making you blush, before he kissed you again. His weight on top of you now making you moan wanton into the kiss this time.

Your world was filled with passionate kisses. They steal your breath away and make you squirm under your husband. You then feel his hands on your side. Touching you. Caressing your curves. You feel them fumbling around for your kimono tie, unwilling to let your lips go for even a moment to get to it properly, and place your hand on his chest.

“Benimaru, wait.”

The kijin stopped instantly and sat back off you. His eyes questing into your own to see what was wrong.

“I just….I thought I should…I mean we never…I’m not…” You stumble over the words to say to him. To explain that you weren’t the maiden he might have hoped for. The words cling in your throat as images of your former life flash across your mind. You feel unworthy. Dirty. Then his hand reached out to you brush your cheek again. Causing one of the tears that were welling up in your eyes to fall against it.

“That doesn’t matter to me.” He said with assurity and a softness that could only be described as love. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you as you are now. Not who you could be. My only regret is that I couldn’t kill those bastards 100 times more over for ever having hurt you.”

You scoff out a chuckle at the violent decree said so sweetly. You hand came up to clasp his own. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappointment.” He replied, almost instantly. Then kissed your hand as he brought it to his lips once he removed it from your cheek. “Do you wish to stop? We don’t have to do this now. I can be satisfied with you declaring you want to be my woman and my wife. Well….contented.”

You chuckle again, more light hearted this time, and leaned in to initiate your kiss this time. “I meant what I said. I want to be your woman and your wife truly. I don’t want to stop.”

A sigh of relief left Benimaru. The prince willing to stop if you wanted but clearly so glad you didn’t. You giggle and let him take you in his arms.

The momentary pause in your kissing afforded Benimaru the chance to undo your kimono tie. Loosening it and letting it fall, but not pushing the thin material of your actual robe off your body yet. You reach out for him as well to undo the clasp of his overcoat. The heavy material immediately falling of his shoulders, in contrast, once the hold was released. He seemed fascinated with your work as your hands untie his under coat as well.

“Your touch is like fire.”

“Is that a joke?” You ask when Benimaru growled those words at you. Your apex quivering at the sound, but still curious if he was making a joke.

He chuckled. Another shiver at your core. “No. But I guess I can see how it would be. I mean it though. Everywhere you touch me sets a fire in me.” His hand came up to take yours and slip it under his loose top now. Guiding it over the hard planes of his chest over to his heart. “I can’t get enough of it.”

You kiss again and continue stripping. There wasn’t much to let go of for you, as just before now you were preparing for bed, so you were quickly naked in front of him. He talked about your touch being fire, but his was burning you up inside. His hands were hot. They left a lingering heat in your body everywhere he touched, to the point that you wonder if he had activated his magic. You were helpless against his soft touches. Your body aching already before he even properly touched.

Then, when he did, your body became a livewire.

Your limbs immediately went taunt when his fingers touched your core. “Please try to relax.” He whispered to you in your hair. His own long, hard body nestled beside you. Holding you close.

You try to do as he said and relax. It wasn’t difficult after the initial shock as the pleasure made it easy to succumb to him. Those hands so skilled at fighting working your body with similar expertise. “Mmmm…Benimaru….”

“Ah…say that again.” His deep voice was in your ear again. This time sounding elated, before his tongue reached out to lick the shell of it. “Say my name again. Please.”

“Benimaru…” You repeat his name over and over again. His precious name he held so dear. The name Rimuru-sama had given to him. It fell from your lips like a prayer chant as his fingers brought you closer and closer to climax. When you did, it fell from your lips again in a shout. “Benimaru!”

He continued to touch you until your walls stopped clamping around his digits. Finally setting them free. Your spent body laid against him, and you open your eyes tiredly just in time to see him cleaning your juices from his fingers. “Ah…my love tastes so sweet. I could get addicted to your flavor.”

If you body wasn’t already flushed from orgasm, you would have blushed completely. Benimaru seemed pretty proud of himself, however, before he leaned in to kiss you. You don’t think you taste sweet at all. But the taste of yourself on his lips was something you could get addicted to too. When had you become so perverted?

He let you go for a moment and shuffled around to pull out of his pants. You watched him, in the soft light. His handsome body bare to you. Not a mark on him thanks to his skill and healing. Your eyes travel down and find the proof of his love for you staring back proudly at your face. You gulp at his size. That was going to be inside you.

“Don’t worry. I know it’s a bit bigger than a human’s, but I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“I-It’s alright.” You reply back at his concern. He had mistaken your gulp for a concern about his size. How shameful he would probably find you if he found out that it wasn’t from concern, but excitement, that had caused you to gulp. Again, when had you become so perverted? “I trust you. And I want to be with you.”

“[Y/N]….” He spoke your name softly again before he leaned in to kiss you. Guiding you back down on your back. You feel his weight press on top of you. Your legs spread wide around his pelvis to let him mount you. You can feel the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance and shiver a little at the lower kiss. “Please tell me if I’m hurting you.” Benimaru urged as he started to press into you.

You let out a wordless cry at the initial invasion into your most private place. You can feel your entrance stretch to accommodate him. The sensation a duality of pleasure and pain. And it was only the first few inches. Finally, agonizingly slowly, he was fully inside you. The kijin raining kisses down over your face and neck and everywhere else his lips could get to as you held on to him. His back tight under your fingers as he was very clearly straining to wait for you. “I’m alright, Benimaru. Please. Continue.”

You felt him nod against your shoulder before his hips pull back away from yours, then forward back into you. You both moan at the initial slow thrust. The feeling indescribable and compounding with each shallow thrust. “[Y/N]….”

“Mmmm…Benimaru….” You moan back when he said your name. “You can…go faster….” Not that you weren’t enjoying this slow entanglement, one could only describe as love making, you could tell that he was holding back and it was hard for him. “I..I want you. Please….Make me your woman.”

“I did warn you.” His voice sounded hard now, in comparison to the soft words he’d whispered to you earlier, and you think you hear the sound of nails scratching against the floor mat by your head.

His hips pull back again, this time practically pulling out of you, before they slam back in. You let out a loud cry. One readily identified as one not of pain. Then all you can do is hold on. Your arms wrap tight around Benimaru’s neck as he pounded into you. Before, where you had tried to roll your hips up to meet his thrusts when they had been soft & gentle, all you can do now is lay under him and take it. And become a babbling mess it seemed.

“Ah~! B-Benimaruuu! S-So good! Don’t stop!”

“I have no intention of stopping.” His words were stern. The cool seriousness of his intention to keep claiming you made your walls quake around him. “You’re my woman now. This body is mine. I’ll remind you of it every day if I have to. You’ve possessed me to the point of madness with this love. I can never let you go.” His tongue laved at the sweat collecting on the skin of your neck. Following it up to the back of your ear before his teeth bit into the soft flesh there. You let out a yelp, and call his name again, before you were cumming. Your nails biting him back into his shoulder.

“Ah! [Y/N]! Too tight. It’s too tight. I’m gonna-!” His hard thrusts come to a staggering halt as he spilled his seed inside you. Holding there before his hips roll softly against you as his cock continued to twitch its release.

He collapsed on top of you once it was finished. Your bliss worn body not seeming to care about the extra weight as you held him against your bosom and both tried to catch your breath. Rested, but not to say recovered, the ogre lifted himself up off your body and pulled out. You wince as he did. Those hard thrusts catching up to you, and suddenly feeling at a loss without him inside you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You look over to Benimaru, who had apparently seen you flinch, and was looking concerned. “No. Just a little sore.” He looked a little ashamed at that and muttered an apology to you. “Don’t,” you tell him. Reaching on to touch his chest. “It’s not as if I was really complaining.”

You both blush, despite everything you’d just done, still apparently shy about intimacy, before he slid over to you. “Are you sure you’re alright? About everything?”

You nod. Both of you laying on your side to face each other. His fingers caressing your cheek before moving down to the love mark he’d nipped into your skin. “Yes. I meant what I said. I don’t regret it.” You weren’t foolish enough to think that you were going to be instantly happy as husband and wife now. You were basically starting fresh. Starting anew. Though you knew a lot about each other, you had to relearn things and uncover new things as only a spouse would know. It would take time. But you were happy enough for now to at least try to start this new chapter with Benimaru. “You’re not going to kill the envoy before he leaves tomorrow, are you?”

The man let out a boisterous laugh and wrapped his arms tight around you in a hug. “No. I would never disrespect Rimuru-sama like that. As long as he leaves, I’m satisfied. But if he touches you between now and then, I make no promise on the guarantee he will leave with all his limbs.”

“Benimaru….”

The envoy, it seemed, was clever enough to take the hint in not touching you. The murderous aura & killing intent of the red kijin seemingly always just behind you making that clear. You decline his invitation to join him in Blumund. Telling him that the only time you would come to the city to visit him was with your husband. He again took the hint and left without comment. Rimuru-sama gave Benimaru a stern talking to about scaring their allies and ambassadors to their country, but you could also see that he wasn’t very serious about it. He seemed pleased enough that things had worked out, that you were staying, and his beloved friends were happy.

Ever the wonderfully problematic life in Rimuru City.

#;pen & paper (fanfiction)#benimaru #benimaru x reader #tensei shitara suraimu datta ken #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #tensei shitara slime datta ken #tensei shitara slime datta ken x reader #tensei shitara suraimu datta ken imagine #random fandom #imagine #benimaru tssk #benimaru (Tensei shitara Slime Datta Ken)#scenarios #[the fact that there isn't more work about my beautiful red headed baby is criminal]

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domthedevil · 4 years ago

Note

heyyy!! i’m like obsessed with your blog, and i hope you don’t mind me requesting this, you can decline if you have to 💕 i understand.

as stated in your irl, why not dom the devil? 😳 just making diavolo obey you aAAA maybe having him in a collar with a leash attached to it? pulling on it to make him look at you as you ride him? (with a gender neutral reader 👉👈).

haha, go crazy, i just wanted to suggest some ideas. as long as we get to dom diavolo, i’m okay lololol.

- @haienk

I love you. I’ve been trying to put something together for a dom the Diavolo fic and now I am at peace and full of inspiration. The sweet prince needs to be punished. 💋

Tamed Puppy

Diavolo x MC

Warnings: Long, bondage, sub!Diavolo, degradation kink, flogging, pet play, sensory play,...feet. 👀

He’d always told you he wanted to let you take control. The prince wanted to be un-princely for once, and he trusted you more than anyone else to help fulfill his needs. You loved how much he let you ease into things, but this he didn’t have to. You were more than happy to treat him un-princely like.

So you brought him to his chambers, stripped him down and made him sit like a good pet as you prepared everything. Making him watch as you slowly move to make him wait even longer. To see the look of a lost puppy without his master yet.

“M-MC...you can tighten this if you’d like.”

Helping him put on his collar for the first time, you couldn’t help the smile across your face. So eager, like a puppy begging to be trained. You’d already placed the blindfold over his eyes, making every new accessory a surprise to all of his senses.

“More like this?” You whispered softly as you tightened it only one more notch. But his moaned response told you it was perfect. “Have you already been broken in, Diavolo. Or are you just so eager to be treated like my pathetic pet?”

“I’ve always wanted you, MC...”

Moving behind him, you used the bondage tape that resembled vinyl to tightly bind his arms to each other. The heat on his face made you laugh quietly. Enjoying the expressions he made as he realized how much you were doing. Enjoying the lack of control, his cock had already began to stir. When did he get like this?

Now that you had him tied up and accessorized, you walked around him in a circle. Diavolo turned his head as your foot steps rang out in the quiet room. The deep red flush across his face complimented his already adorably pathetic state. It was easy to see he was already excited. He must have been holding back these desires for a long time.

“You’re already half hard. I haven’t touched you yet, really.”

“I’m so excited, I can’t help it.” His cheerful smile shone through, making you grow more aroused as well.

Sitting on the couch near his bed, you led Diavolo with you on a short leash. Not being able to use his arms was a little difficult, but he managed to follow your orders. Obeying you every order, he sat on his knees with his thighs spread wide open. With a foot still clad in a sock, your placed your big toe on the tip of his impressive cock. The prince whined in surprise.

“Let’s see if you have any self control. I can’t play nice all the time with my little pet...” the ball of your foot rubbed up and down his shaft, earning more and more deep moans from Diavolo. “I have to train you to be a good boy.”

His breathing was growing heavier, feeling something vague and soft against his cock had his brain occupied as you spoke. It didn’t matter what it was, but he wanted more of it. The friction against his ever hardening member pressed against your toes. Maybe the prince was enjoying himself too much? When Diavolo’s hips began to rut against you, you pulled away quickly. Earning whine.

Diavolo heard you stand, he worried maybe he’d crossed some line, but you didn’t let him wonder for too long. A firm smack against his ass made Diavolo jump. He lost his balance, resting his face against the floor as you pushed his hips up. Another loud crack of the short flogger you hid from the prince as a surprise rang out. Met in volume only by Diavolo’s whines. Accepting he was going to be flogged, he wiggled his hips with enthusiasm.

“Bad pets get punished, my lord.” Your own body was hot, watching him so needy for you was arousing. And the little noises coming from him were all for you. Only you.

“Y-yes. Master.”

The title sent a chill down your spine. You couldn’t help but be a little rougher, excited by his obedient submission. Soon his cheeks were a mix of pink and a light shades of red. His panting and groans paused as you ran a loving hand over the marks that crossed his beautiful skin. You pulled his hair to help him back on his knees.

With his leash dragging behind him, Diavolo moved to sit on the bed the way you desired. Removing his blindfold you ordered him to stay like a good boy. You’ll reward him a little for being such a good pet. Taking a few steps away you undressed slowly, you saw that same puppy look from before, but with a much different emotion. All the desire he held was easily read on his face. Achingly slow you undressed, letting each button and each layer take just a moment longer to remove than usual. Once bare, with clothes tossed carelessly to the side, you walked back to your pet.

To his surprise, you knelt between his legs. Your hands traced his thighs, spreading them so that you had access to his weeping cock. He must have been really close to coming against your foot. You took a precarious lick at the slit of his length. Diavolo shivered as he helplessly looked down. So badly he wants to grab at your hair, push his cock down your throat, and fuck you senseless. But you had other plans. Circling the tip of his dick, your tongue picked up the rest of his precum.

“MC...too good.”

“You deserve a little reward. You’re a better pet than I thought.” The small praise made him smile and rut his hips slightly against your tongue and lips. You wouldn’t let him inside your mouth. Seeing him desperate for it was adorable though.

Diavolo’s face fell slightly as he realized you were teasing him, not letting him pass your lips. Now that he could rub his shaft against your wet tongue at least gave him some relief. He began chanting your name as he slowly started to tense in his abdomen. The prince wasn’t used to being denied this long, and he was growing more needy than ever. If only he could get his hands free, push you down and fuck you again.

“M-MC please. I want to come.”

“Oh? You think you get to finish before I do?” Your voices sent warm puffs of air against his saliva coated member.

Much to his dismay, you stood up from the floor and pushed him back on the bed. The prince’s burning orgasm fading slightly. Immediately you were on top of him. Thighs warming both sides of his waist. He looked up at you with the same pathetic expression only you would ever get to see. Grabbing his leash you ordered him not to move while you hovered above him.

Kissing his jaw line and down to his neck, you left bites and bruises. Love notes he could brag about later. Each sending chills down his spine. And the the grinding of your hips against his cock made it leak with eager seed.

Finally you aligned your hips with his overly sensitive dick. Diavolo almost whined as you lowered yourself down. He was easily the biggest partner you’d ever had, and each ride on his cock discovered something new inside you each time.

“Fuck...Diavolo...b-be a good boy and stay still.” Though your legs were trembling, you moved yourself up and down slowly. Easing the length inside to familiar places that you both knew could make you scream. Stilling his hips, Diavolo loudly panted and moaned. Unable to hold back, not that he had to when you treated him like this.

Tugging his leash you made him sit up to be eye level with you. You both shared your erotic expressions before a long and heated kiss. His greedy tongue pressed pass your lips and tangled with yours. A moment after, you heard the tape you’d wrapped his arms in tear and soon his strong arms were wrapped tightly around your torso.

“I can’t stay still, Master. I need it so badly...”

Though he broke through his restraints, you still had his collar. You couldn’t deny how great it felt to be filled up with his royal cock and you didn’t want to wait any longer either. As Diavolo’s hips thrusted up into you, your whole body grew hotter than it was before. Being stretched and filled over and over, your moans grew as loud as his. You pulled his leash roughly to bring him closer, catching his lips in a deep kiss.

Chanting his name you showered him in praises. He’s a good boy. So obedient and loves his master. He’s the best boy, the best! And the prince ate it up. Returning the praises, making you both flushed with heated cheeks.

Sporadic hip thrusting cut your last sentence short as he grew closer and closer. Your own orgasm was just about to reach its peak. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your face against his ear, you let the breathless moans and whines breeze by his ear. The voice he found so sweet made his hips move even faster.

“Coming. Diavolo. Your such a good boy making me come like this. Such a good boy...” Your voice trailed off into a moan as you reached your climax. Walls clenching around him tightly, the prince held on to the sheets beneath him as he tried to hold back.

“C-can I come? Master please let me come inside you.”

“That’s good. Come then. Come for me.”

A few shaky thrust later, Diavolo buried himself deep inside you. Filling you with thick ropes of seed. Having to hold back, even just a little, pent him up with so much frustration and the relief from coming inside you fixed it all. You moved with trembling legs to rest beside him. Thankful for the cool, soft sheets on your heated skin.

Diavolo took the initiative to clean you and himself up. Seeing as how he was the only one who could walk. Once back on the bed next to you, he flipped on his stomach so you could rub his still pink bottom. The touch soothed him strangely. You shared a bright smile with each other as you both came back down to hell.

“So...how did it feel to not be a prince for a day?”

“Hmmmm...rough, but good.”

“Did you say ruff? Was that a pun?”

“What’s a pun?”

#ns//fw #obey me fanfic #obey me smut #om! fanfic #om! smut #obey me diavolo #om! diavolo #obey me #om!#obey me gn!mc #obey me lemon #om! lemon

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iamdeku · 4 years ago

Text

Needy: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Me? Making a fic title that isn’t based off a song somehow? Seems unlikely.

Warnings: school stress. makin’ out. not proofread.

For @sems-diarie

You hated your classmate Bakugou Katsuki with a passion. He was arrogant, brash, and extremely loud. He was rude to you and he was rude to everybody else and he was completely convinced he was the greatest thing to ever exist. There was really only one thing you hated more than Bakugou.

Being teamed up with him for your class’s newest group project.

You had pleaded and begged with Aizawa to let you pair up with literally anyone else, but he was unyielding. All of his pairings were final, and you and Bakugou were no exception. You were just going to have to learn how to work with him, your grades be damned, apparently.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, taking your seat next to Bakugou the day after your group pairings had been announced. “You are not going to mess up my grades. If anyone is going to mess up my grades it’s going to be me. I don’t think you’re an idiot. I know you’re an idiot. So just sit down, shut up, and follow my lead.”

You were perhaps slightly harsher than necessary, even for a guy like Bakugou. In your defense though, you’d had a truly garbage day. Your coffee machine had broken, leaving you with no caffeine this morning. It was an expensive coffee machine too, and you weren’t sure when you would be able to buy a new one. You had spent half of your morning looking for the manual to the coffee machine in the hopes that Momo could just create another one for you, and by the time you realized what time it was you had no opportunity to do anything but toss your clothes on before heading to class. On your way to class, it had rained, soaking you through because you had forgotten your umbrella and provoking Mineta to make a comment on the clinginess of your wet uniform. You had gotten a worse grade than you were expecting on your last test, you had tripped and spilled all of your lunch across the floor, and now here you were, having to sit next to your assigned group partner, hair still damp and mood still very, very bad.

“Hey, I don’t know who you think you are extra, but I’m no idiot. If you think we’re not beating everybody else in this class, then you’re wrong. I don’t know what you’ve been told, but Bakugou Katsuki never loses.”

You had known the great Bakugou Katsuki for the last 3 years of yours and his UA career, and now, in your final year, you were pretty confident that you still knew him. You knew him as a guy who had definitely lost before in the past. There was no particular shame in that, but you couldn’t afford to lose this time, especially not on Katsuki’s account.

“You better be right about that, pretty boy, because this grade is important to me. If we get a bad grade on this assignment it’s going to throw off my entire average, which I really can’t afford right now. Speaking of which, we really don’t have the time for all this dilly-dallying. Let’s get to work, king explosion murder,” you mocked.

To your surprise, the ever confident Bakugou turned bright red at the old nickname.

“Whatever. Let’s just get to work. We’re going to have to trade contact information so we can figure out a time to meet up. Plus I don’t trust you not to screw this up without my advice.”

You rolled your eyes. The nerve of this boy. The sheer gall.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” You reached into your soggy backpack and pulled out a pencil and a piece of paper, scribbling down your phone number.

“We should just be able to meet up in one of the dorm’s common areas. The trick will be finding a time when everyone else isn’t working there.”

You sighed, knowing your classmates wouldn’t make the scheduling of this easy. Even ignoring the fact that you might have to deal with their noise and obnoxious planning, Bakugou’s sleep schedule was another barrier to your project design. He went to bed early enough to severely limit your time for working on the group project. You honestly didn’t know when he found the time for homework. If you didn’t do yours immediately it probably wouldn’t get done until the very last minute.

“We can just study in our rooms. It will be quieter there.” Bakugou shrugged.

You froze at his casual words. Study in your rooms? As in study in his room? Nobody had ever been invited into Bakugou’s room. Not his best friend Kirishima. Not his childhood rival Midoriya. Not even that girl from the gen-ed course he’d dated when you were second years. Nobody.

“Uh…are you sure?”

“Yeah. Why?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re making a weird face, idiot.”

You shook your head. “Nothing. I was just thinking. Yeah, we can just study in our rooms. Just text me before randomly showing up, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Aizawa was starting up class, causing you both to shut up. You felt a part of you get very excited that you might be about to see Bakugou’s room. There was something sort of forbidden to the feeling, fluttering around in your chest like a stupid flock of butterflies or something. You were sure it was just the appeal of his room, the secrecy of it all. You loved knowing other people’s secrets. That must have been what it was.

As it turned out though, your hopes and dreams were all in vain. Bakugou texted you to ask about studying, not in his room, but your room. You complied of course. As much as you wanted to see the inside of his mysterious room, you respected his privacy. After all, rooms were sacred. Your room was a deeply personal expression of yourself, and you weren’t about to pry into his space. It wouldn’t get you a better grade anyway, seeing as your project wasn’t on the inside of Bakugou’s room.

You had cleaned up your room earlier in preparation for this moment, anticipating that sooner or later Bakugou would want to study in your room even if you had briefly entertained hopes that he would want to study in his. Your normally messy desk was cleared off, your bed was made and your dirty laundry was all in the basket where it belonged. If you hadn’t cleaned the room yourself you would probably think that you didn’t live here.

Bakugou walked into the room with all the posturing of royalty, shoulders thrown back confidently as he eyed your room. He sniffed, passing whatever final judgement he would, and proceeded to sit down at your desk.

“Nice room, nerd. Cleaner than I thought it would be.”

You grew uncomfortably warm at the truth of his accusation, feeling specifically called out. Could he possibly have heard you vacuuming earlier? It didn’t matter. You didn’t care about his opinion.

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get to work, shall we?”

You pulled out your notebook, taking a seat on the floor and gesturing for him to join you.

“Why are you sitting on the floor, idiot?”

“I don’t have two chairs for both of us to work at the desk, so therefore the floor is our next best option.”

“No it isn’t.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “You have a bed, don’t you? We can just sit on your bed and that way you don’t have to break you tailbone on the floor. Unless you like sitting on the hard floor.”

You gritted your teeth, glaring up at the challenge.

You pushed off from your hand, standing so you could loom over where he sat at your desk. “Fine. Bed it is then.”

You took a seat on your bed as he stood up from your desk chair he had invited himself to sit in. You waited for him to take his spot next to you on the bed, but he hesitated. For a guy who had suggested this idea, he didn’t seem to like it very much. Your surprise wore off though when you realized that he was being…awkward. Bakugou Katsuki was being awkward.

Was it you? Had you done something to make him uncomfortable? Or had he just been shy this whole time?

You could have laughed at him, but instead you took pity. You remembered your first year, when you had been painfully awkward. Maybe Bakugou had always been like that and you had just never had occasion to notice until now.

“Go ahead,” you said, patting the bed next to you. “Take a seat. I don’t bite, and even if I did you would like it.”

You laughed a little bit at your own joke, even if Bakugou didn’t seem to think it was very funny. You did succeed in getting him to sit on the bed though, so some small victories were won. He was stiff and sat much farther away from you than necessary, but he sat nonetheless.

After hours of working together, you managed to have a rough outline for the project. It was sort of a tricky project, based around gathering knowledge and making a presentation on the hero you thought to be the best. Bakugou had insisted with surprising vehemence on making it on All Might, and you agreed with him. After all, he was the symbol of peace and had been the #1 hero for decades. Even though this was a move you would have predicted more from Midoriya, you figured if you were going to do this project you might as well do it right.

Bakugou got up to head to bed, but you stopped him before he could leave. “Hey…I didn’t know you were so into All Might.”

Bakugou blushed, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“I mean, we all love All Might, don’t we?”

“I mean, I know I do.” You laughed a little to set him at ease before revealing a little bit of yourself. “When I was a kid All Might was always my favorite hero because of his smile. I always thought that if someone were ever to come save me, I would want them to smile at me like that.”

Bakugou was silent for a moment, thinking about your words.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I was always so impressed by his strength, and the way people loved him. I always wanted to be loved like that. I wanted to make people believe that I could help them. That they could trust me.”

There was a deep sense of vulnerability to his words that made you want to know more and made you want to understand this boy you had clearly underestimated.

“Is that why you became a hero?”

He huffed, retreating back into himself. “I became a hero to prove I was better than everybody.”

In a way, it was a yes.

“Have a goodnight, Bakugou.”

He stopped in your doorway, looking back at you with a hint of that vulnerability from earlier.

“Goodnight.”

You had been working nonstop for the past 4 days. You had your schedule set up to an unreasonable level of strictness. You would work for an hour, watch a 10 minute motivational video, then work for an hour again. The only real breaks you took were to eat and sleep, and it was starting to wear on you. You just had so much work to do, and you needed to be free this weekend for the sleepover Mina was having, but you were exhausted.

You had finally reached a breaking point tonight, and you found yourself sitting in your bed crying. You weren’t pretty crying either. It was an ugly, exhausted cry, yanked out of you by the hours of work and stress. You had fallen onto your side, curled up in bed as the sounds choked out of you, ugly things breaking you open and cracking your chest and your voice.

Because of all the stress you had been under, you had completely forgotten about your group project. You had met up with Bakugou the first couple of days, but yesterday you had begged off and reschedule for…today. Right now.

You didn’t even hear Bakugou’s polite knock on your door, the same three knock rap he had given the last few days before coming in to work on your project with you for an hour. If he thought you were ignoring him or just not there, it didn’t stop him from coming in. You didn’t notice, completely oblivious to his presence until he spoke.

“Are you hurt?”

He rushed over to your side, rolling over your body to inspect you. His hands were surprisingly gentle as they skimmed over your body, checking for injuries, gently pressing into the divots of old scars. He found no hurt on you though, and pulled back, frowning.

“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

You sniffled loudly, shamefully wiping your arm across your face.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, repeating it for your own benefit. “I’m fine, I’m totally fine. Everything is fine.”

“You sound like stupid Deku. Every time he’s ever told me he was fine he was lying.”

You choked out a giggle against your will. “Yeah, he does that doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does. But unlike Deku you’re not stupid. You want to explain this little episode to me?”

“I’m just…stressed.” You sighed, explaining your situation to him.

He sat back, stunned. “Well no wonder you finally broke. Nobody can work like that. You have to have fun, you idiot!”

For such a nice sentiment, he said it awfully aggressively. He almost made you burst into tears again, but he seemed to realize his mistake, quickly softening his voice again as he floundered for something to say.

“I…you…I’ve never seen you cry before,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I do it. This may come as a surprise but I’m human too, y’know.”

His hands still rested on your thighs, and you looked up at him hesitantly, breath catching in your throat. You had, of course, noticed that he was pretty before. Sharp cheek bones, harsh blond hair, bright red eyes that dug into your soul. Somehow though, he had gotten prettier over the past couple of days as you had gotten to know him, gotten to understand him better.

Before, you had thought he was arrogant. From your conversations though, you knew better. He just cared about people too much. Cared about their opinions too much, feared rejection. You offered up a little piece of yourself in exchange for everything he had admitted to you.

“Remember what I told you about All Might being my favorite hero? I thought to be a good hero you had to always be smiling. You could never show weakness. Not anger or sadness or anything else. That’s why you’ve never seen me cry before. Why I’m always so happy go lucky. Because I have to be.”

There was a pause while Bakugou processed that information.

“That’s…stupid,” he decided. “You shouldn’t hold back on your emotions like that. You deserve to feel things. You can’t dedicate your life to other people like that.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m starting to figure that out.” You stared down at your bedspread.

You were shocked when you felt a warm, calloused hand brush your cheek. Bakugou hesitantly, tenderly wiped the last of your tears away, and you felt something in your heart flutter. You had known Bakugou Katsuki a long time, but you had never known him like this. Looking up into his eyes did nothing to dispel your butterflies when you saw how soft his gaze was. Something in you ached to be looked at like that, to be held in someone’s hands as carefully as he was holding you now.

“Can I…can I kiss you?”

You weren’t sure where the question had come from, and yet you were, because some time along the way of getting to know him you had realized something. Everything you had thought there was to hate about Bakugou was really something to love. Over the course of this project, you had done something extraordinarily stupid. You had developed feelings for a boy who would never like you back. Which was why his next words stole your breath entirely.

“Please,” Bakugou said, his words a sticky sweet, fervent plea.

You blinked, daring to look at him again only to find him wide open to you. He was leaning forward, a look in his eyes you could scarcely describe, a feverish desire overcoming him. His hand on your face twitched ever so slightly in anticipation as you leaned forward.

When your lips met his, you were surprised by the easiness of it. You fell forward into him, arms draped around his broad shoulders as he pulled you in, large hand wrapping around your waist, firm and capable. He tasted like burnt sugar, impossibly so, and it made your head spin, made you dizzy with the sensation. It made you hungry for him.

When he licked your lower lip, you let him swallow you down, hands blazing a fiery trail across your waist to your back, making the trip over and over and burning into you with their warmth. You tugged on his hair lightly, eliciting a moan from him that shot straight through your chest. You gasped into his open mouth, your clumsy kiss flipping when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Everything became easier when you let him take over, let him pull you into his lap up against the hardness of his body and tilt your head to the side just so, pliable and soft in his arms. Kissing him became easy and natural, shivers running through your body as you surrendered yourself to the experience.

When he finally pulled away, you found yourself licking a mixture of your spit and his off your mouth, not even minding how profoundly gross that was. Normally you would have shuddered, but you were far too busy staring at him, mesmerized and breathless.

“You, uh…that was…that was really nice. And I think you’re pretty.” Bakugou coughed. “Do you want to go out sometime? Because obviously you need somebody to distract you from your homework, stupid. Look what you did. Made a mess of yourself.”

You ducked your head into his shoulder at his words, hiding your face and your embarrassment. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

He hummed, the sound resonating in his chest and traveling straight to your ear. “Can I…kiss you again then?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

#you guys have to tell me if there are any glaring mistakes in here it is the law #i was too tired to proofread it #mha #bnha #bakugou katsuki #agedup!bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

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thegoldielocks28 · 3 years ago

Note

“SO… you think I’m hot?” - Mathilda and Sergei~

Title: “you think I'm hot” Pairing: Mathilda Alster and Sergei Petrov/Spencer Petrov AN: Written for a writing challenge, for Syfien. Nothing more than a soft moment for the cute couple ~ Hopefully it makes sense ;D

The sun is bright against the almost cloudless sky on this hot summer's day. The humidity makes the heat feel hotter than it actually is, and most people out and about carry either electrical hand-fans or more traditional paddle-fans while crowding the soft drink vending machines that conveniently seem to be just about everywhere.

Japan´s summers are something else.

Mathilda has always been a spring and summer person, enjoying how good weather allows her to dress in some of her favorite clothes more comfortably. Shorts, skirts, blouses and cute tops. Even dresses at times. Today, she's even wearing a big hat, shielding her face from the direct sun. Her pale cheeks are decorated with light freckles, dots that in her case only appear in summer. The summer back home in the UK is a lot milder than those here in Asia, but she can't say she misses the wind or common and heavy rain that much.

Mathilda`s plans are a bit different today. Hence her being slightly dressed up. After several nights of little sleep, and several days when she lost her words upon just seeing him, she managed to ask her crush if he wanted to spend some time together. Just her and him.

They already have, several times, met up by coincidence in the hotel-like apartment building rented for them during a long season of blading. For example while making tea in the shared kitchen. Making small meals. Sitting on the sofa, reading. Watching the matches on TV after they happened. Together with their fellow bladers, teams and friends.

Lately, … ending up staying in the joined area late until they were almost alone, or the only ones left.

Mathilda´s freckled cheeks turn a shade pink upon thinking of her date. Looking at her wristwatch she realizes she´s early, like she always is when nervous. Being late would leave a bad impression now, wouldn't it? The pink haired woman spends about 10 minutes gazing at people, meeting the eyes of polite fans a few times. Apparently, she's quite popular in Japan.

There he is.

Sergei.

Mathilda shifts so she´s facing him. Pale, tall and handsome. Dirty blond short hair. Strong nose and jaw. The heat seems to have made the Russian have to drop the vest he is always wearing, and today he has just a pair of cargo pants, a nicely fit black t-shirt and boots. Revealing his strong chest, and arms. The man is still fully clothed but the sight of him has her skin turn hot. Many seem to assume the tallest member of the Russian team looks least good, but… Mathilda´s eyes has never strayed, even if her attraction to him also didn't start with the way he looked in the first place.

“Hello.” Mathilda can't help but smile widely, then tries to calm herself down. “Hey.” Sergei answers, his voice deep and calm. Those steel grey eyes of his move over Mathilda. Just like she is used to seeing him with his vest, and hat, he is used to her own “battle gear”. Not a soft colored summer outfit, and just a little bit more effort with her hair and make up. All thanks to Julia. It's not like Mathilda doesn't care about those things, it's that she has always been someone who enjoys being without products as well. Mathilda likes being pretty, and Julia has helped her find a style that suits her well. Not as strong as Julia´s often so red and full lips.

“Let´s…” Mathilda starts, she needs to step up since she was the one to ask him out to hang out. “Start walking, the place I mentioned, is a bit further ahead.”

It's a nice summer's day. Birds chirp. Breeze is lovely. Mathilda is so happy she gets to spend today with her crush. Happy to realize they have actually gotten that far from being strangers, to having plans together like this. For a long while she had thought she wouldn't be able to pull it off but as always she didn't let her shyness stop her from at least trying. And there by her side is Sergei. The gentle giant.

The ones who are less happy about their growing friendship are people she could worry about later.

However, things change drastically just over a few minutes. Mathilda notices mid-sentence that something is wrong. Eyes darting up at the much taller man by her side only to get that gut feeling affirmed. Sergei has a queasy look on his face, and his forehead seems damp of sweat. He's squinting against the strong rays of the sun.

“Are you ok?” She tilts her head, looking up at him.

Sergei avoids looking at her. “Hm.” He makes a sound through lips pressed together. “You look… paler than normal.” Mathilda continues. “My body feels… heavy.” Sergei grumbles. “My head… “

“Did you get something to drink before this..?” Sergei looks at her. “No.”

Mathilda´s expression turns more concerned. Especially when guilt washes over her. She had asked Sergei to hang out with her outside in this hot weather that's so unlike what he's used to. Not considerate at all. All she had done was walk ahead chatting because of her nerves, while Sergei had been feeling ill.

If Sergei fainted here, or fainted anywhere, Mathilda would not be able to catch and support him properly because of his size. The man would hit the concrete ground and get hurt no matter if she just stood there, or had him fall over her as she tried to hold him. The mental image of the Russian falling backwards and hitting his head makes Mathilda´s throat go dry. Skull cracked open. Blood. Mathilda forces herself to stop thinking about that.

She extends her hand, and even if holding hands with him would normally make her a nervous mess, she takes his bigger one in hers and tugs at it.

“There's a bench over there..”

Sergei looks at her in silence for a long moment, as if it takes longer for him to register what she is saying in this heat, before he shifts his body and allows her to pull him along. Slow steps. A low, drawn out sound leaves Sergei´s lips as he lowers himself down on the bench. In the shade, it's still hot, but a clear difference from before. Mathilda´s eyes rest on his face for one long moment before she turns away.

“I´ll be back soon, promise.”

Mathilda jogs over to the vending machine closest to them, across the street, and digs in her pockets for some Japanese yen coins. Luckily, she has enough for drinks and after a bit of struggle to understand which drinks are cold and which are hot she manages to buy cans of cold bubble water. Both for Sergei. The moment she returns to Sergei´s side she hands him one of the bottles.

Sergei accepts the bottle, unscrews it and drinks almost greedily. Water running down the side of his mouth, down his jaw and onto that black t-shirt. Mathilda sits down by his side while trying to not seem too worried, even if her emotions are easy to read on her face. Sitting is better than her walking about.

After a moment of slow silence Sergei speaks up. “I am sorry, Mathilda.” His voice is tired. “I think I won't make it to the shop in this heat.”

Mathilda can hear in his voice that he had thought about what to say for a while. Nodding her head, she agrees, she understands. “Let's rest a bit then I will walk you back.” She says, wanting to know Sergei will be alright. After a moment of silence the girl nudges Sergei at his side before she gestures to her lap.

“What..?”

Mathilda´s cheeks turn pink. “One time offer… you know?”

Sergei´s eyes soften ever so slightly as he understands just what she is offering him. The gesture seems to make him feel a bit self-conscious, but not out of dislike. Perhaps because this is a first.

“...I am sweaty.” He says, voice low, as if it is the last negative point he can find.

“I don't mind.” Mathilda says patiently with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

Even if her heart is beating really loudly in her chest she knows this isn't something to get excited for. Sergei feels sick, and needs to rest. If she can offer him some calm and comfort she´d be happy to.

Awkwardly, Sergei lowers his body onto the bench. His head soon rests in Mathilda´s lap. It's obvious this makes the man self-conscious, but after a few moments pass, he exhales deeply and his body grows heavier against her as he relaxes.

Could he have been worried about putting his weight on her?

Up this close, Mathilda notices just how grey his blue eyes really are. Almost silver, steel. His hair is on the border of being brown, dark dirty blonde. A strong jaw, big defined nose and thin pale lips. Those eyes close, as if the moment got too intimate, and Mathilda lets out a soft huff of a giggle.

He even has long eyelashes.

Mathilda is unaware of the slight wetness moving down the side of her face as they sit together so closely. She's getting a bit sweaty as well.

“You're hot.” His words are low, deep.

The way Sergei´s voice breaks the silence has her flinch, just a little bit. Mathilda feels a hot wave of emotion wash over her as she realizes what he just told her. Sergei´s cold, steel gray eyes, looks a bit confused at Mathilda´s reaction. Meeting his eyes, she realizes he wasn't trying to hit on her.

Maybe he had meant to say “warm.”

Mathilda blinks, luckily not feeling too bad about the mistake, and decides to lighten the mood. “So… I am hot..?” She chuckles quietly, reaching for the second bottle of water to help herself to some. Being a native speaker of English, she can understand how some would mistake words like that, having a second meaning appear out of mistake. The way Sergei looks at her was out of concern, not out of something else. “Hot” and “warm” can mean similar things, yet have different meanings in different situations.

“I mean…” Sergei must have realized his mistake. “You look… very warm too.”

At that, Mathilda can't help but let her smile grow wider and warmer as she looks down at the man resting in her lap. Her painted nails softly move into his short hair as she strokes him. Trying her best to make him relax, and feel better. How lovely it´d be if… they could do this in different circumstances. Resting together. Mathilda´s smile fades a little, and her lips turn playful.

“...I'd be ok with you thinking I'm hot.”

#Beyblade #Fanfic #Syfien #Mathilda Alster #Sergei Petrov #Spencer Petrov #MathildaXSergei #MathildaXSpencer

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imagine-loki · 3 years ago

Text

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 4

TITLE: Tear You To Pieces CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 4 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was sent to make up for his deeds by helping out The Avengers at the tower. Everyone thinks he’s changed, but he is just biding his time. He manipulates and uses someone who works there, who has a crush on him, to get exactly what he wants. RATING: M

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: DARK LOKI, RAPE/NON-CON, MANIPULATION, MURDER, VIOLENCE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, KIDNAPPING

The day that Kelly had been waiting for finally arrived just over a week later. She was finally recovered enough from the attack, aside from still a few bruises and superficial cuts.

Stark felt bad for not leaving protection with her on the jet. She kept telling him it was ok. Loki kept telling him he told him so and he was foolish for putting her in danger. Which wasn’t doing Loki any favours in getting in the Avengers good books.

Kelly so wanted to tell Maria that she had a date. But she needed to keep quiet, not wanting to upset Loki. He had asked her not to tell anyone, so she wasn’t going to break her promise to him.

So she got ready on her own, after making an excuse to the others that she was feeling a bit iffy so wanted an early night. Once she was dressed and had her hair and make-up sorted, she sneaked out of her room and made her way down to the back entrance to meet Loki.

He was already there waiting for her. Her heart beat quickened when she saw him. He was so handsome, wearing a suit, black trousers and jacket with a white shirt and a black tie. It wasn’t often he wore mortal clothes but when he did, it was always with such style.

Loki’s smile grew larger as he looked Kelly up and down. She was deliberately wearing a green dress underneath her leather jacket. Her pulse quickened at the look in Loki’s eyes as she approached him.

‘Why, you look absolutely ravishing, my dear.’ Loki purred and picked up her hand to kiss the back of it politely, making her blush.

‘Thank you. You look really handsome.’ She said shyly.

‘Thank you, pet. Had to look my best for you.’ He winked at her, then he offered her his arm and she accepted, slipping her hand around his arm he led her out of the building to an awaiting taxi.

On the drive to the restaurant Loki had picked, casual chat had Kelly at much more ease and she actually forgot she was on a date with the God of lies and mischief, an ex-villain. She felt so relaxed and comfortable around him.

Loki hopped out of the taxi first and rushed round the car to open her door for her when they arrived. He helped her out too, then slipped his arm around her and they headed inside. He’d booked a nice table by the window at the back, looking out to a nice garden.

‘This is so lovely. Thank you, Loki.’ Kelly smiled as she sat down, Loki of course tucked her chair in for her after helping her with her jacket.

‘I only wish I had asked you out sooner.’ Loki said sheepishly.

They got some wine over to the table, then ordered their food. Kelly just hoped she would actually be able to eat something, she felt so nervous and excited, her stomach was all over the place. But the wine did help to settle her a bit.

‘I must ask, are you wearing my colours on purpose or is it a happy coincidence?’ Loki asked, smirking.

Kelly looked like a deer caught in the headlights. ‘Uhm… I… on purpose.’ She said shyly, downing a big gulp of wine.

Loki chuckled. ‘Well, I am honoured.’

Loki asked about Kelly’s life, about her upbringing. He shared a little of himself too, about growing up on Asgard with Thor. She was glad he was opening up to her.

‘Did you tell anyone about our date?’ Loki asked in the middle of their meal.

‘No, I didn’t. I wanted to tell Maria, but I kept quiet.’ Kelly said honestly.

Loki nodded and looked at her warmly. ‘Good girl. It’s for the best.’

Kelly’s face went bright red as she suddenly became very flustered. She quickly reached for her wine and took a few sips to try and hide her face. Loki was a little confused at first, but then it clicked.

Good girl… She had a praise kink? He was sure of it.

Grinning slightly while he kept on eating, not wanting to make a big deal of it and spook her, he noted that information away in his mind. That could come in very handy indeed.

Luckily for Kelly, he changed the subject swiftly. Saving her from further embarrassment.

‘Have you had many boyfriends?’ Loki asked. She was a lovely woman, for a mortal. He was surprised she didn’t have a boyfriend currently.

‘I’ve dated a few people over the years, but nothing ever became… official.’ She shrugged after wiping her mouth with her napkin. She had managed to eat more than she thought she would, luckily.

‘I’m surprised no one has snatched you up yet. You’re a wonderful woman, Kelly.’ Loki said, making her smile giddily.

‘I just… I get attached quite easily. I uhm, I learned my lesson from the first guy I dated four years ago. He hurt me pretty bad, so I am trying not to fall so hard so quickly. It’s made me a little more guarded.’

Loki nodded in understanding. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, darling. Love and trust are such fragile things, not something to be taken for granted. I know it has to be earned. Hopefully, I can prove that I might be worthy of at least your time, perhaps more.’

Kelly’s heart melted completely at his words.

He was such a sweet talker. His silver tongue one of his best abilities and one he was always very much thankful for. One that couldn’t be taken away from him.

They didn’t leave straight after finishing their meal. They had a few more glasses of wine first, Kelly was happily tipsy. Loki barely even felt tipsy, mortal alcohol didn’t affect him in the same way. He would need to drink a few bottles of wine before even feeling slightly tipsy.

After the meal when they were ready to leave, there was a car waiting outside to take them home. Loki opened the door for Kelly and helped her in, then he sat in the middle seat so he could be right next to her, their thighs pressed together, making her blush.

Loki turned more towards her on the drive home and he stroked her cheek softly with the back of his hand. ‘You are so beautiful.’ He hummed.

Kelly smiled shyly as he slid his hand down and gently held her chin.

He licked his lips a little as he leaned in, but he paused a moment and looked deep into her eyes. ‘May I kiss you, darling?’ He asked so sweetly.

Kelly felt her heart swelling that he was so sweetly asking permission just to kiss her.

‘Of course! I mean, yes… yes.’ She blushed hard, trying not to seem too over eager. But Loki didn’t seem to mind as he grinned and closed the distance to plant his lips upon hers, his hand slid round to the back of her head to hold her closely. Not that she would want to move away from him, anyway.

She felt like time had stopped as he kissed her gently, his lips were so soft and cool against her. He moved them slowly, moulding with hers. Her entire world was turned upside down, she had dreamed of kissing him for so long now, she never thought it would actually happen. But now it was, it was even better than she had imagined.

Kelly could only hope it was the start of many.

Later that night, Loki decided to pay her another visit in the middle of the night.

She was sound asleep when he manifested in her room. He was silent as he slowly walked towards her sleeping form in bed. It was quite warm so she had the blanket thrown off her, wearing nothing but a night gown and knickers.

He smirked as he reached the side of her bed. He leaned over her and pressed his palm to her forehead, seeping into her dreams. It was easy, considering Loki was already someone she dreamt and thought about a lot. He wasn’t surprised to find some rather naughty dreams and fantasies about him in her mind.

Using that to his advantage, he manipulated her mind. Making sure she would remain asleep, but also so he could have some form of control over her dreams.

She parted her lips and whispered out his name. That’s when he moved his hand down underneath her night gown and he stroked softly over her abdomen before moving downwards into her knickers. She squirmed a little in her sleep, whimpering softly when his large hand just cupped her at first.

Loki kept his movements steady and careful. He knew his powers weren’t as strong as they should be, so he didn’t want to make a mistake.

Going slow, he slid his fingers through her folds and had to bite back a growl when he discovered she was already getting aroused. Using that to his advantage, he trailed some wetness up over her clit and rubbed it in circles. She started moaning more in her sleep, calling out his name again too.

This is far too easy. Loki thought with a wicked grin as he used his thumb on her clit and began inserting a single finger into her. But he was met with quite a bit of resistance at first, until he managed to ease his way into her with more stimulation on her clit.

‘How interesting.’ He whispered, his cock hardening in his trousers at the realisation she was still a virgin. She was so impossibly tight, even around his slender finger.

She squirmed a little, frowning. ‘No, please… feels weird.’ She whined.

Loki rubbed her clit firmer, while wiggling his finger inside her. Whilst it felt weird for her, he could feel her clamping around his digit in arousal. But her movements were becoming a bit more insistent.

Then her eyes suddenly flew open, but Loki had been able to vanish just a mere second before that. He cursed himself for not being able to hold his powers better, he really needed to get them back properly.

Kelly was breathing hard and a bit sweaty as she turned her light on. She had been so sure that someone, Loki, had actually been there and was touching her. But there was no sign of him at all. And her door was locked, so she knew it couldn’t have been him.

‘That was some vivid dream.’ She muttered to herself and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand.

Even though she felt aroused and uncomfortable between her thighs, she kept telling herself she had just dreamt it. Though it took her heart a while to stop racing.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #tear you to pieces #chapter 4 #fanficshiddles

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idratherdreamofjune · 4 years ago

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@sunheart wrote in her tags on another post:

Genuinely hate being alive ... I completely understand on so many levels why you would hate being a woman. Its horrible. And then as a Christian there's this whole really ugly dynamic- that i know is probably a lie i just haven't worked out how yet- that we're the 2nd best. The afterthought. The mediocre option. Almost everything in life men are better at and it's hard to believe it's just cultural- math logic leadership writing cooking writing physical activities on and on, and women are good at being Nice :) Which ok i like being nice but it's like that's my only option I feel like any other impact i might wish to have upon the world will be paltry in comparison to what i could do if only i was a man. I feel incompetent. Irrational. Emotional. Obnoxious. I feel like I'm supposed to be a plaything for the beings that were *actually* created to be in harmony with God like I'm not supposed to have a connection with God- only through my husband which what does that make me as a single childless bitch? I can't even fulfill the main point of my existence. Jesus interacted with women but did he care about them like he did the men? David and John were named his favorites not Deborah or Hannah. And like i said i'm sure none of that's true but i don't know how and it feels awful. hate it.

Hopefully others have shared encouragement on this already, but just in case I wanted to give some thoughts. Please know that if I sound riled at all (and I’m going to try to avoid that) I’m not upset at anyone who feels this way but am deeply upset by the enemy’s lies that so many are hurt by. As a younger believer I did struggle with some of these questions myself, and for a long time it was difficult to reconcile these concerns with the promises that God loves me.

Your instincts are right - it is a lie that women are second best. And before I go any further let me also agree that yes, we are physically weaker than men and have other weaknesses too. But since when has weakness meant that someone is any way “less than” others? Men have weaknesses too, just different ones. That’s the nature of humanity: every person is a mixed bag of strengths and weaknesses. I’ve never heard before that men are better at cooking?? My dad literally struggles to cook a hotdog in the microwave and has never touched a grill in his life. And okay men may (possibly, not sure on this one either) be inherently better at math, but which gender is drastically underrepresented in the nursing field? I suspect there are fewer male teachers, too, though not as huge a disparity. Men are more prone to recklessness and violence - part of the reason married men live longer (gotta get that stable influence). Again yes men are physically stronger but have you watched ballet dancers (oooh i mean ballerinas, sorry there’re so few ballerinos that I forgot to differentiate) or female gymnasts? Nothing “less than” there! The famous Proverbs 31 woman is a good insight into Biblical support of female abilities and value: “strength and dignity are her clothing”, “she opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.” “Let her works praise her in the gates.” (The gates were essentially the city hall or forum of ancient Israel.)

Going back to the beginning - women were created second, true. But did God not know His own plan? He was always going to create women. And the really amazing thing that I learned in the last couple of years is that, when God says He’s going to make Adam “a helper” (Hebrew ”ezer”), that’s the same word that is used to describe God’s actions for His people throughout the Old Testament: - Exodus 18:4 “The God of my father was my help.” - 1 Samuel 7:12 “Ebenezer” means “rock of help” and is a memorial of Yaweh’s help. - Psalm 30:10 “Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me! O Lord, be my helper!” - Psalm 115:11 “You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord, He is their help and their shield” - Psalm 121:2 “My help comes from the Lord” - Hosea 13:9 “‘You are against Me, against your helper.’“

It is a common word for “help” used in other settings, yes, but the fact that it’s used of God illustrates that this is no poor or second-rate role. Helping - aiding - supporting - incredibly important! In fact this article I just found puts it this way:

In two cases it refers to the first woman, Eve, in Genesis 2. Three times it refers to powerful nations Israel called on for help when besieged. In the sixteen remaining cases the word refers to God as our help. He is the one who comes alongside us in our helplessness. That's the meaning of ezer. Because God is not subordinate to his creatures, any idea that an ezer-helper is inferior is untenable. In his book Man and Woman: One in Christ, Philip Payne puts it this way: "The noun used here [ezer] throughout the Old Testament does not suggest 'helper' as in 'servant,' but help, savior, rescuer, protector.'

Moving on to the New Testament, and the topic of John, who is known as “the disciple whom Jesus loved”. John is the one who wrote the book which tells us that (under the direction of the Holy Spirit, yes) and he only uses that wording as a title, in place of his name. Nowhere does it say he was the favorite disciple, or even most loved, just that he was loved. To me it seems more as if John is saying “Jesus loved me! Can you believe it?!” It has a feeling of awe and thankfulness as opposed to superiority.

Getting into marriage specifically, I do believe that a wife should be under the headship of her husband ...mainly in the sense of letting him have the last word on decisions and plans. This is in part due to differing areas of strength, and in part because in some situations it’s better to have a family leader - most groups of humans need a leader, and following an assigned (or picked) leader does not make one inferior. All that being said, a wife should be able to provide input, advice, and feedback to her husband, who should take into strong consideration his wife’s needs, insights, and concerns (Ephesians 5:25-29).

The lie that women cannot be connected to God outside of their husband is refuted not only by all the vibrantly faithful single or windowed Christian ladies of history (Amy Carmichael, Gladys Aylward, Mary Slessor, and Elisabeth Elliot are some of my favorites) but also Scripture itself. When Christ spoke with the divorced Samaritan woman the disciples were shocked not because she was a Samaritan but because she was a woman (John 4:27; she was shocked on both counts - John 4:9) - I hope they got used to it because Jesus spoke with women a lot. Despite the culture of the time, Jesus clearly had very warm and caring direct relationships with Martha and Mary, Mary Magdalene, and other women. Anna the Prophetess in the temple had been widowed for decades and was serving God alone “night and day” (Luke 2:37). Incredibly, in a culture where women were looked down upon, the Lord chose women to be the first to discover the empty tomb, and Mary Magdalene to be the first to see the risen Christ! I love that passage so much (John 20:11-18).

Another example is when Jesus stopped on His way to heal Jairus’ daughter (i.e. He put aside a powerful man’s urgent request) to lovingly interact with the woman who’d suffered bleeding for years - a terribly personal and female problem (Mark 5:21-35).

To try to wrap up, I’ll return to David in the OT, who was a “man after God’s own heart”. But again, it doesn’t say that he was actually a favorite - it does say David was chosen by God though, to lead Israel and establish the family from which Jesus would ultimately come. You know who else was chosen? Esther - “for such a time as this”. Once she realizes the task she must complete, she tells Mordecai how it’s going to go, and “Mordecai then went away and did everything Esther had ordered him.” Esther gets a book named after her and is remembered in the holiday of Purim to this day. Also note that Esther was married to an unbeliever. Likewise Ruth was chosen, as a young foreign widow, to be part of the Messiah’s kingly line. As an aside, my favorite thing about Ruth’s story (besides all the faith and beauty of it) is the simultaneous deep respect and protectiveness Boaz shows towards her (okay enough mush). Anyhow what it comes down to is that God chooses and loves both men and women, and both have a place (singly and married) in His plans and kingdom. See also Galatians 3:28 “ There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

This post has all over the place, and I probably forgot a bunch of things I wanted to add (if anything else comes to mind I’ll add it later), but I hope it’s been encouraging. Yes I’ve struggled with some aspects of how women are portrayed in the Bible, but what I shared above, plus the love and blessings I’ve known as a single woman are more than enough evidence that we are known and loved. If anything is unclear or anyone has any questions please speak out/send an ask! Anon asks are on too. Also if anyone wants to add or amend anything do so without hesitation!!

#marriage #women in the Bible #Book of Ruth #Book of Esther #singleness #Scripture #lies

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years ago

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Waterfall Memories by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 6/9

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapters titles are based on the lyrics from “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers

Chapter 6: And I Don’t Blame You Dear for Running Like You Did

She finished the last of the dishes from breakfast, putting the plates away in the cabinet and turning toward the dog beside her feet on the floor. “What shall we do today?” The dogs barked, standing, and running in circles around her legs.

She looked around the cabin, books littering every surface. She grabbed one nearest to her, flipping through the pages to find them blank, empty, and begging to be filled. Looking around she found a pencil and blanket and gathered her items, opening the door and letting the dog outside. She followed him to the bench on the front porch.

There was water all around the cabin, some of it threatening to flow under the structure. Killian was standing on the side of the cabin, knee deep in the brown liquid, a shovel in his hands, his shirt tied to his side in a knot. She bit her lip as her eyes trailed his upper body, sun kissed from days he must have spent standing in the hot sun before the weather had turned cold.

She sat down on the bench, drawing her knees up to tuck her feet under her, wrapping the blanket around her as the dog curled up below her. She looked at the empty page and the pencil in her hand started to scratch at the white surface. She had no idea if she could draw, couldn’t remember ever trying, but the way the images took shape she thought maybe this was something she was good at in her other life. The one that was just out of reach of her memories.

She drew the forest, the water lying motionless in front of her, a dog splashing through the muddy sludge as a man stood, staring at the horizon. When she looked down at it minutes later, the shape of a swan in the distance was floating away from the cabin on the page before her. She sighed, looking up to watch Killian, now covered with beads of sweat, dripping deliciously down the crevice in his back, and she bit her lip. The man was the picture of sexy and mysterious. She wanted to know more about him, the story of how he got here, why he was alone. Yet she could tell that he was holding back from her, keeping pieces of himself hidden from her sight. What she wouldn’t give to tear back the layers and have him invite her in.

She turned the page of the book to start a new drawing but was surprised to see writing on the page, handwritten in a beautiful script. She should close the book, put it back where she found it and yet she found herself reading it.

Dearest Milah,

My love, I am in darkness without your light, I curse the sun for trying to replace the warmth that you no longer provide. I am in misery, these bars are not my affliction, my prison is of my own making. Even as I am released tomorrow, I will never escape the prison I created for myself. I have failed you. I failed Alice. There is blood on my hands, hate in my heart, revenge destroyed me. Destroyed our life. Our beautiful home. My perfect Alice. I am cursed. I fear that my heart will always be. I will never be at peace knowing the hell I brought upon my family. Your last moments knowing that I destroyed us. My life is forfeit, doomed to walk this earth with the knowledge that I am a monster. Undeserving of love. My fate is sealed. Hope is lost.

Killian

She ran her fingers across the lettering of his name, looking up at the man facing away from her, tearing at the soil beneath his feet. She needed to know more, yearned to understand how anyone could feel so tormented, so worthless. She ached for him.

Closing the book, she stood, watching from the corner of the house, observing his labor. She couldn’t exactly leave him this way. A few extra days to try and solve the mystery that was Killian Jones wouldn’t hurt her. Her life could wait if it meant helping the man who had so selflessly helped her.

She went back into the house, burying the book beneath a larger one, not wanting him to know that she had invaded his thoughts, his privacy. Looking around the cabin she decided she would do something nice for him. She began by picking up the items from the corner, dusting off the surfaces she could. She folded blankets, organized his books, placed the logs evenly beside the hearth and gathered the clothing to be washed in the bucket he kept by the back door.

When she had finished she looked around at the result of her work and smiled. Maybe she was married in her other life, she was pretty good at this house cleaning thing. She frowned, touching her ringless finger. Maybe she was just a maid in her other life. Was she hoping for that instead of having a husband who was lovingly looking for her? A man she had thus betrayed by her night with Killian.

The door opened abruptly, and Killian stepped into the tiny cabin. Tossing his boots into the corner by the door he turned and met her eyes. He seemed surprised to see her standing there, holding a broom, and sweeping the floors. It was so ridiculously domestic that she cursed herself for being found this way.

“I cleaned up.” She announced and his eyes roamed the room and to her surprise the corners of his mouth ticked upward.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.” She finished her task, setting the broom back behind the door and walking closer to him, reaching out to take the dirty shirt from his hands. “I was doing the wash.” She smiled shyly. He didn’t react, probably from the shock she imaged when she ran her fingers across his chest, dirt and grime slipping through her fingers. “You should do the same.” She added with a flirty grin. “Take a hot bath.” She turned away from him, her smile growing on her face, pleased with the reaction she elicited from him a moment before.

“Uh, yeah I’ll do that.” He stammered, walking toward the bedroom. “Thanks, Swan. For um, for tidying up. I’ve never had a guest before.”

She bowed her head. “Go bathe.” She returned her gaze to his eyes. “I’ll make some dinner.” He left the room, and she swore her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She had half a mind to follow him right into the bathroom and have her way with the man. But instead, she walked the few steps away to the kitchen to start the meal she promised she would make. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she thought. She had no idea why she knew that, but she was determined to find out if it was true.

~*~

Killian retreated from the room, trying to create as much distance as he could between him and the beautiful Swan who was currently domesticating his home. Seeing his place so neatly put together, the blonde woman putting such care and attention into something she had no investment in both confounded him and stirred emotions in him that he had buried, burned, destroyed years ago.

He shut the door to the bathroom, filling the buckets with water to put on the stove to heat but instead tossed the cool water into the tub, perhaps a hot bath was not what he needed right now unless he intended to do something completely stupid and reckless like ask the woman to join him.

He sunk down into the cold water, breathing slowly, erasing all the thoughts he had of how she had felt the night before. The taste of her skin, her intoxicating aroma as he plunged his tongue into her center.

Fuck.

Sinking below the water, he lay there, holding his breath, counting to ten before breaching the surface and gulping in air. He scraped at his skin, letting the soap cleanse the dirt and grime he had accumulated from his earlier work. The trench he had dug would allow the water to escape in a few days. The roads would be clear, and he would be able to drive back to town. This would be over, and he could return to his solitude.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, wandering into the bedroom to dress and pull a comb through his hair. If he was going to play house, he should at least look presentable to the woman who was sharing his fairytale. He rolled his eyes at the mirror, admonishing himself for playing along with this fantasy. Could it really hurt him to have a few nights of pretend? None of it was real. They both knew that. Perhaps it was a reprieve from the devil, or yet another way to torture him. Either way, he would take it.

He stepped from the room quietly as she flitted around the kitchen, humming a song to herself as she worked. She was a marvel to observe, a beautiful treasure in every way. When she caught him staring, she blushed, quieted, and turned back to the stove.

“It was lovely, don’t stop on my account.”

“I don’t know where it came from, it just sort of formed in my head. I guess I must have heard it in my other life” She mused, humming the notes again to You are my Sunshine.

She seemed almost angelic, standing in his kitchen with the sun shining across her golden locks. Before he could stop himself he realized he was singing the words to her melody. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey…”

She turned toward him, their eyes meeting. “That’s lovely.” She smiled. “Is that what I’m humming?”

“Aye.” She continued humming. “You’ll never know dear; how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” He finished softly, standing in front of her with her back against the counter. Neither one of them moved and he was afraid to take a breath for fear she would disappear right in front of him. He wasn’t ready for her to dissolve, to leave his life. He cursed even admitting it. He liked having her here.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“I used to sing that to Alice before she went to bed.” He said with a sad smile. “It was her favorite.”

He expected her to go back to her food preparations, to break the spell he was in, but instead she surprised him, reaching up to brush the wet hair from his forehead. A smile sweeter than any he could remember fell across her face as she stepped into his embrace, her lips grazing his jaw before touching his lips. It was over before it began, short yet sweet and full of emotion. He squeezed his lids tighter together to keep his emotions from spilling out. She stepped from his arms and his lids flittered open. “Food will be ready in a minute.”

No one had taken the kind of care she had. Cleaning his house, preparing a meal, comforting him. These were not things that were afforded to him. Yet here she was, a stranger, a woman who was within her rights to demand to be released and taken home immediately and yet she instead opted to care for him. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to. Because it would be gone before he had the ability to embrace it. Taken from him like everything else in his life.

“Smells good.” He announced suddenly, sitting down at the table.

“I wasn’t really sure what to make but you have such great vegetables.”

“Aye, I’m sure my garden is flooded now. But at least it’s watered.” He chuckled.

She sat the food in front of him and then made her own plate, taking the seat beside him. They ate in silence, but it was comfortable in the way she would smile at him between bites, or blush when he caught her eye.

After the food was consumed, they each took to the mundane task of cleaning up, side by side, working together. It required no forethought or communication, like they had been doing this their whole lives. “I don’t wish to upset you, Swan, but I think we make quite the team.” He teased, an expression that must have come from a moment of weakness pushing through his hardened exterior. “The place hasn’t looked this bright and cheerful in…” He scrunched his nose, “well, ever, I suppose.” Ending with a laugh that started low in his belly, but he felt through to his toes.

“Then I have completed the task I set out for myself this morning.” She smiled.

“What task was that love?”

“Getting you to do that.” She chuckled before continuing her thought. “Trying to ease some of that burden you seem to carry.”

He swallowed. “I suppose I can bury some of it for a few rare moments.” He pursed his lips. “Thank you.” He added sincerely.

“Can I ask you something?”

He shrugged, “I suppose.”

“What are you punishing yourself for?”

He exhaled, “Why do you assume I’m punishing myself?”

She shrugged, “You live alone, cut off from the world, as if you are condemning yourself to loneliness. I can’t imagine the man I know doing anything that would call for such isolation and sadness.”

“I have done many things in this life, Swan, most that I am not proud of. I am not a good man.”

“You saved me.” She whispered, her hands reaching for his. He wants to pull back, to keep the connection broken, but instead he allows her to take his hand.

“One good deed does not forgive a lifetime of bad behavior.” His voice cracked. He wished things were different, that she could stay here, maybe she would even heal his soul. But her life was not his to control. She belonged somewhere else; he was sure that her heart must even belong to another. Someone noble and deserving of her. A good man.

“It’s a start.” She leaned over, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Trust me, you have a mark in the hero column in my book.” Her words warmed his heart, he rewarded her with a genuine smile.

“Thank you, love. That means a great deal more than you know.”

She stood and wandered toward the couch, lighting candles along the way. As she sat down she gestured for him to join her. “It should be a few more days and I should be able to drive into town.” He added as he sat next to her.

“Well, let’s make sure the roads are safe before you try, perhaps we should wait until things are completely dry.”

He turned toward her, a hopeful feeling rising in his heart, a few more precious days with her. “Aye, good idea. Better to be safe.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder and for a moment he let himself get lost in the gesture. Imagining a new reality where this woman, his swan, stayed, and they would spend nights on the couch, lying together and talking about nothing.

“So, what do you do out here every day? Surely you must find something of interest to keep you busy.”

“Jolly and I do a lot of exploring, fishing over on the west banks, or hunting for game. I suppose when we aren’t doing that I read.”

“I noticed you had a lot of books.”

“Aye, my brother taught me how to read when I was very small. I suppose it become a passion of mine.”

“You have a brother.”

His chest rose and fell with the exhale he exerted. “I did, yes. Liam. He was a good man.”

“Was?”

“Aye. Gone.”

“Your parents?”

“Died when we were young.”

“So, you truly are alone.” She offered sadly.

“Well, I have Jolly.” The dogs head lifted off his lap as he lay next to him. He patted his head. “He provides good company.”

“Have you ever thought of moving back home?”

“No home to return to.”

“But you could move back to where you are from, start a new life.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option for me, love.”

“You could come with me.” His heart stilled.

“Love, whatever is waiting out there for you, I assure you, it is far more worthy of you than me. You don’t know anything else right now, that’s where all of this is coming from. You’re clinging to what you know because you can’t remember what you don’t.”

She sat up, staring at him. “Stop doing that. Stop discounting yourself like you are some demon, unworthy of compassion. I don’t care what you’ve done in your past, I only see who you are now.”

“Swan, you wouldn’t say that if you knew who I really was.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head in frustration.

“Why not.”

“Because…I don’t want to see that look of disappointment in your eyes. I can’t bear to have one more person hate me because of what I’ve done. I just want you to see me as you do right now. Before you leave. Even if it’s only for a few days.” His honestly surprised him, almost scared him to admit his feelings out loud. He enjoyed that she stared at him with compassion, almost reverence. He wanted her to want him, to see him as the man he used to be, long ago. He couldn’t keep her, but perhaps he could have this feeling long after she was gone. Someone had seen him, the Killian Jones he remembered, the one that Milah trusted and loved. The man who would sing lullabies to his daughter and earned her devotion. If someone could still find that man in him, maybe it was enough to keep him sane long after she was gone.

“Take me to bed.” Her eyes were full of passion, desire, need. Killian rose from the couch, hoisting her into his arms. “Be my love, if only for a while.” She whispered against his neck and he found her mouth, taking her lips with his. Tonight, he would take her as his own, they would have these moments together, no matter how fleeting they would be.

As he buried himself inside of her, pouring every ounce of passion into his kiss, he thought only of her, his Swan. As she lay, curled into his side afterwards, her eyes staring into his with a warmth of devotion, he imagined a life that wasn’t his. A life where he made her happy, where he loved this woman with all his heart and he drifted off to sleep, knowing that even though it wasn’t real, he could almost believe it, almost feel it burrowing deep into his heart.

Hope.

#waterfall memories #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au

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thelittlesttimelord · 3 years ago

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The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 14

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 14 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 14/? SUMMARY: With the Doctor newly regenerated, he and Elise must now navigate their new relationship. The Doctor is an old man and Elise is a headstrong young woman. She is no longer the scared little girl the Doctor saved all those years ago. Will Clara be able to keep them from killing each other?

Clara was clearly getting ready for another date when Elise and the Doctor arrived.

The Doctor was watching her laundry spinning in the washing machine while Clara checked her makeup.

“The Satanic Nebula,” the Doctor suggested. He stared at her goldfish. “Or the lagoon of lost stars. Or we could go to Brighton. I've got a whole day worked out.”

“Sorry, but as you can see, I've got plans.” Clara gestured to her outfit.

“Have you?”

“Look at me.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“No, no, no. No. Look at me.” Clara flipped her hair.

“Yep, looking.”

“Seriously?”

“I think you look beautiful,” Elise told Clara.

“Thank you, Ellie.”

“Why is your face all colored in? Are you taller?” the Doctor asked.

Clara raised her foot. “Heels.”

“What, do you have to reach a high shelf?”

“Right, got to go. Going to be late.”

“For a shelf?”

“Bye.” Just as Clara was about to leave, the phone in the TARDIS started ringing. “There you go, you've got another playmate.”

“Hardly anyone in the universe has that number.”

“Well, I've got it.”

“Yes, from some woman in a shop. We still don't know who that was.”

“Is that her now?”

“There are very few people that it could be.”

“Maybe it’s Kate,” Elise suggested. It’d been a while since they’d seen the head of UNIT.

The Doctor reached out to answer it.

“Don't,” Clara said.

“Why not?” the Doctor asked.

“Because, if you answer it, something will happen.”

“What?”

“A thing”

“Huh. It's just a phone, Clara. Nothing happens when you answer the phone.” He picked up the receiver.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next thing they knew they were sitting at table, each holding a memory worm.

Clara and Elise screamed.

“Doctor?” Clara asked.

“Don't touch it.”

“Where are we? How did we get here?”

A man and a woman sat across from them at the table.

The man had half his head shaved with computer chips attached. “Who are you? Sorry, what's going on? I don't understand.”

The woman was dark skinned. Her cheeks transformed into the worm’s horns before fading. “Ah! What is that thing?”

“It's a memory worm,” the Doctor told her.

“What happened to your face?” Clara asked.

“Deletes your memories.”

“Did you see her face?”

“How did I get here?” the woman asked.

“The same way we all did, but we've all forgotten,” the Doctor said.

“And who are you?”

A metal case sat in the middle of the table. It played a recording.

“I am the Doctor, a Time Lord from Gallifrey. I have agreed to this memory wipe of my own free will.”

“I am Clara Oswald, human. I have agreed to this memory wipe of my own free will. Do I really have to touch that worm thing?”

“Yes, you do. And change your shoes. Elise, you’re next.”

Elise heard herself sigh. “Do I really have to do this?”

“Yes.”

“This is a bad idea. Fine. I am Elise Smith, daughter of the Doctor and River Song. I have agreed to this memory wipe of my own free will.”

“Okay, you're next, Psi.”

“I am Psi- augmented human. I have agreed to this memory wipe of my own free will.” Psi took a chip from his head and examined it.

“I am Saibra, mutant human. I have agreed to this memory wipe of my own free will.”

The case unlocked and a golden light shone from within. Two screens popped up. A golden K in a circle was shown on the screen before a hooded figure appeared.

“This is a recorded message. I am the Architect. Your last memory is of receiving a contact from an unknown agency. Me. Everything since has been erased from your minds. Now, pay close attention to this briefing.”

A planet appeared and zoomed in to show a bank. An advertisement started to play as the Architect spoke.

“This is the Bank of Karabraxos, the most secure bank in the galaxy. A fortress for the super-rich. If you can afford your own star system, this is where you keep it. No one sets foot on the planet without protocols. All movement is monitored, all air consumption regulated. DNA is authenticated at every stage. Intruders will be incinerated. Each vault, buried deep in the earth, is accessed by a drop-slot at the planet's surface. It's atomically sealed, an unbreakable lock. The atoms have all been scrambled. Your presence on this planet is unauthorized. A team will have been dispatched to terminate you.”

Someone banged on the door. “This is bank security. Open up.”

The video kept playing. “Your survival depends on following my instructions.”

“Open up and you shall be humanely disposed of.”

“There's another exit,” Saibra said.

“All the information you need is in this case,” the video said.

Psi took a chip from his head and plugged it into the case.

“What are you doing?” the Doctor asked.

“Downloading,” Psi told him.

“Ah. Augmented. Nice.”

“The Bank of Karabraxos is impregnable,” the video said.

The Doctor took a device from the case.

“Please stand away from the door. We do not wish to hurt you before incineration,” the guard ordered.

Elise rolled her eyes. How considerate.

“The Bank of Karabraxos has never been breached. You will rob the Bank of Karabraxos.”

Soon, the five of them were running down a corridor.

“Okay, okay, okay. Stop, stop, stop. Far enough,” the Doctor said, panting.

Can’t handle all the running, old man? Elise asked. She received an eyeroll in response.

“Augmented human. Computer augmented, yes? Mainframe in your head?”

“I'm a gamer. Sorry, who put you in charge?” Psi asked.

“You're a liar. That's a prison code on your neck.”

“I'm a hacker slash bank robber.”

“Good. This is a good day to be a bank robber. Mutant human. What kind of mutant?”

“Like he says, why are you in charge now?” Saibra asked.

“It's my special power. What's yours?”

Saibra sighed and took Clara’s hand. They watched as she transformed into Clara. When she let go, she was herself once again. “I touch living cells, I can replicate the owner.”

“Your face, when we first saw you...”

“I touched the worm.”

“You can replicate their clothes too?”

“I wear a hologram shell.”

“Like Christmas,” Elise said, even though only the Doctor and Clara knew what she was referencing.

The Doctor pulled out the object he took from the case. “Human cells. DNA from a customer, maybe? A disguise to get us in?”

“We're actually going to do it? Rob the bank?”

“I don't think we have a choice. We've already agreed to.”

Saibra sighed and touched her thumb to the object.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elise had to admit that the bank was beautiful.

“How long can you maintain the image for?” the Doctor asked Saibra.

“For as long as I like.”

They entered the bank.

“Question one. Robbing banks is easy if you've got a TARDIS. So why am I not using it?” the Doctor asked.

“Question two, where is the TARDIS?” Clara countered.

“Okay, that probably should be question one.”

“Hopefully it’s not having a temper tantrum this time,” Elise said.

The Doctor turned to her. “At least we’re not stuck on a pirate ship with a murderous mermaid.”

An alarm started going off and security grills came down around all the exits. “Banking floor locking down.”

“They know we're here,” Saibra said.

“Banking floor locking down.”

A woman entered with two men dressed in suits. They walked up to a man with a briefcase.

A monster wearing an orange jumpsuit and a straight jacket entered. It had two eyestalks and was led by two armed guards.

Elise, instead of being scared, just felt sorry for the poor creature.

“What is that?” Saibra asked.

“I don't know. Hate not knowing,” the Doctor said.

“Excuse me, sir. I regret to say that your guilt has been detected,” the woman said.

“What? That, that's totally ridiculous,” the man said.

“Is it, sir? Well then, we will certainly double-check. The Teller will now scan your thoughts for any criminal intent. Good luck, sir.”

The man put down his briefcase.

“Interesting,” the Doctor said.

“What is?” Psi asked.

“The latest thing in sniffer dogs. Telepathic. It hunts guilt.”

The creature emitted a high-pitched noise that caused the man to grab his head in pain.

“What about our guilt?” Clara asked.

“Currently being drowned out,” the Doctor told her.

“What's he doing?”

“If he has a plan, he's trying not to think of it.”

“Ever tried not thinking about something?” Psi asked.

“No,” Clara said.

“You may have to,” Saibra said.

The creature roared.

“Ah, criminal intent detected. How naughty. What was your plan? Counterfeit currency in your briefcase, perhaps?” the woman asked.

“No, not at all. For God's sake,” the man said.

“It doesn't really matter, we'll establish the details later. The Teller is never wrong when it comes to guilt. Your account will now be deleted, and obviously your mind. Suppertime.”

The armored guards held onto the creature’s chains as it moved closer to the customer. It’s eyestalks came together and a ray was focused on the man’s head.

“It's wiping his mind. Turning his brain into soup,” the Doctor explained.

Elise felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Your next of kin will be informed, and incarcerated, as further inducement to honest financial transactions,” the woman said.

The man started screaming.

“We've got to help him,” Clara said.

“He's gone already. It's over,” the Doctor told her.

“He's in agony, look at him.”

“Those aren't tears, Clara. That's soup.”

The creature pulled it’s eyestalks apart.

The man stopped screaming and one of the suited men caught him. The front of his head was caved in.

“Account closed. Take him away. He's ready for his close-up. Apologies for the disturbance. Everyone have a lovely day.”

Elise was right. This was a very bad idea.

#twelfth doctor #twelfth doctor imagine #twelfth doctor fanfiction #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #clara oswald #clara oswald imagine #the littlest timelord #the littlest timelord: the new doctor #time heist

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alia-turin · 4 years ago

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Finally chapter 5 and finally things starting to move at very fast pace. There will be 3-4 more chapters based on how long they turn out to be. I hope you enjoy this one as is long, but a lot of things happen. Also I think Avallac’h is a bit of a troll. Fic Title: Somewhere in Time (Chapter 5) Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4 Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Pairing: Caranthir/F/OC Warning: Canon typical violence for this chapter, mention of scars, angst AO3 Link

Caranthir looked at himself in the mirror, one of the few occasions when he actually needed to do it. Eredin’s, or more like Ge’els’ reception, was today celebrating...something. An anniversary or something like that, Caranthir didn’t really care, it didn’t matter either. Ge’els needed that for his little political games and they all had to behave, the occasion was not important, it was about the game. Caranthir knew how the power in Tir na Lia worked, he knew there were still some who doubted Eredin’s rule. Ge’els called that appeasing the nonbelievers, Eredin called it hunting the traitors. It was all the same.

He was dressed for the occasion even if he didn’t really want to be there, black coat the collar and sleeves lined with grey furs, grey belt over his hips and black pants tucked in black cavalry boots, his Red Rider cape hanging over his shoulder. Well, that was the best he could do, no amount of nice clothes could fix his face so there was that. He thought of opening a portal to Aine’s room but he decided against it. He was going to be civilized tonight as much as he could be.

Walking to her room he wondered what was he going to do from now on. No more running on his end, that was clear but then what? He felt he was on an impossible journey where he didn’t want to let her go but the longer he held her, the worse it would become. Avallac’h was right, he was a cage. He grinded his teeth. Every time Avallac’h was right about something it caused him physical pain.

He knocked on her door and did not wait for invitation - he walked in. She was standing in front of the mirror in her room but Caranthir froze in place forgetting what he was going to say or even do. Whoever the servant who picked that dress was he should start treating them better than the rest. Her hair was tied and falling over one shoulder leaving the rest of her skin exposed. The dress his servants had picked was green, somehow complementing her mismatching eyes, thin straps were holding the fabric to her shoulders, but he could see her collarbones and the elegant curve in her neck. The dress itself was simple, wrapping around her body, tight around the waist but running free around her legs, a long slit was starting from her hip all the way to her feet.

She turned to face him but he was still staring. Women in court had never attracted him in any way or form, too polished for his taste, but seeing her like that...then again she was not part of the court and probably that did it for him even dressed like that there was still wilderness around her. Caranthir wanted to go to that reception even less now. All he could think about was throwing her on the bed and tearing the dress from her body.

“You are not talking.” she finally spoke her voice doing nothing to stop his urges.

He made a sign with his hand for her to come closer and with some hesitation she did. He touched the skin on her neck with the tip of his fingers, her body tensing under his hand. There were still traces of the bruises he left on her neck and some on her shoulders and arms. He cast the spell and it all disappeared. She looked down to her arms, her eyes filled with surprise.

“How…”

“Not going to walk you in there looking like a battered horse.” He forced a smile on his lips, he wouldn’t have done that if it was different sort of marks.

He opened a portal and saw her surprise just growing at that. She had probably never seen one of those, the one he opened when he took her, well she was unconscious and then the first one she saw was probably yesterday when he walked in her room, but probably never consciously being through one.

“Not using the main door” she smiled, her eyes shining from the candle lights.

“Never.” her grabbed her hand and stepped through the portal making her follow him.

They found themselves on a grand balcony, no one was looking at them. He was right about no one paying attention to their entrance, she could see maybe few people looking at the portal but then they just continued their conversation.

Aine spent the day thinking about tonight and about the opportunity. She was finally out of the room with the door she couldn’t open and away from the servants that didn’t care about her. She did not harbor any illusions that the people here did, she was just above a slave for them, but she also looked enough of an elf to be able to blend and disappear especially dressed the way she was. She needed a chance when Caranthir was not paying attention. She looked back toward the city, the view from here was very different compared to her window. Different parts of the castle, but as it was a reception room she could assume it had easy access to the entrance.

Caranthir placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her to go inside, she obliged.

“Look at you.'' As soon as they walked in a large man approached them, the tattoos on his face looked like blood and his size was almost twice compared to everyone else in the room. “You brought your little toy.”

Aine froze as she heard him speak. That was the same man who had walked into her home and dragged her by the hair in the woods. His voice had been distorted by the helmet, but now it just hit her, that and the frame...she made a step back despite Caranthir’s hand that was still in her.

“Where is Eredin?” Caranthir seemed to pay no attention at the small panic attack she was having.

“Entertaining his guests with Ge’els.” The man made a sign to the main hall. “I guess you are busy tonight? Not getting drunk with me?”

She hoped Caranthir would say yes, he would just leave her to her own devices and he would go with his...she guessed friend. He shook his head. The other man smiled and walked away grabbing a glass of liquor from one of the servants.

Aine exhaled loudly, her knees feeling weak once her whole body was not ridged with panic anymore.

“Are you okay?” there was no concern in Caranthir’s voice, it sounded more like curiosity. Did he even understand what did just happen? Did he...she took a deep breath and collected herself. Just a couple of hours, hopefully less.

“Yes, I’m sorry it is the portal.” she tried to lie as best as she could, she had no idea if he bought it, his face was blank, nothing she could read on him.

“Come on I need a drink.” he led her inside and grabbed two glasses from a servant, he downed one immediately but passed her the second. He grabbed another one for himself. The servant walk away with an empty tray.

The room was astonishing, by far the largest room she had ever seen, still there were so many people inside colorfully dressed, women wearing fascinating dresses, it was hypnotizing and suffocating at the same time. She absentmindedly looked at the faces, that was probably the best of Tir na Lia and beyond. Everybody who was somebody here to pay homage to their king. She raised the glass to her lips, but she didn’t drink. She wanted to be sober when the opportunity arises. As she did that her eyes stopped at a man. Short for Aen Elle, short dark hair, he was far but she could recognize him.

“What?” Caranthir must have seen the change of expression on her face.

“That’s my father.” she pointed with her chin in the general direction, there were at least three other men in that vicinity. “Short, dark hair, dark blue cape.”

“Ailin Eurig?” Carathir looked surprised. “Really?” he looked at her father again and then back at her. “I guess I can see some of it. You want to say hi?”

“No!” she almost screamed. “I’d rather stay away.” she probably sounded more desperate than she was, but honestly there was no reason for them to interact. They didn’t split on bad terms, they split on no terms. Her father always had a strange relationship with her varying from warmth to ignoring. It wasn’t bad, never bad, but it was confusing. She had no idea on which day she would be the bastard child and on what days he would look at her as just a child.

“Interesting.” Caranthir looked at her and smiled as if she was supposed to understand their politics. She knew her father had power and resources. She never knew how much, no one cared to explain that to her, why would they? “If only Ge’els knew.”

“If only Ge’els knew what?” a tall lean man with blond-silver hair approached them. If Aine didn’t know better she would call him a king, there was something regal about the way he walked and held himself. His clothes were formal but simple, his gaze sharp as a cat on a hunt.

Caranthir was about to open his mouth but Aine looked at him pleading and he just smiled. “We were talking about art, seems like lord Eurig found a painter who can match your skills.”

“Interesting.” the man narrowed his eyes, she couldn’t decide if he saw through the lie or was truly offended by the art comment. “Are you not going to introduce me?”

“Ge’els, you know everybody here, do I need to introduce you?” Caranthir smiled almost pleasantly, Aine looked confused, not sure what was going on.

“I know where she came from, I know what you have been doing, but…” the man stepped closer and bent forward a bit. “Fascinating mix of human and elven lines. Almost perfect balance...and the eyes, different colors, very human but also elven... You should come to my studio some time.”

“She would not.” Caranthir moved between her and Ge’els, not even realizing what possessed him to do that. Showing he cared was giving the man advantage but at the same time something in him just stung. He knew very well what Ge’els did with most of his models and that was not happening. Not now not ever.

Ge’els smiled, his eyes fixed on Caranthir. He was going to use that against him, not now, he had no reason to do it now, but one day there will be something that Ge’els would want from him and he would use that moment. No more words were exchanged, there was no need for that, Ge’els just walked away to his next victim and Caranthir had to figure out what he could hold over the adviser’s head. A servant passed and he grabbed two glasses but when he looked at Aine her glass was still full from last time. He drank one glass and kept the other.

“Do you dance?” she randomly asked him. That was the first time she probably asked him a question.

“No.” He answered curtly then he realized it was a party and he had brought her here. So far all they had done was being short with with her and drinking. That was not how he wanted to be, but he also felt that everything he might say could scare her even further away from him, if that was even possible. “However, I do that.” he focused on a man who was standing behind Imlerith, seemingly without a reason the man lost his balance and hit Imlerith, his drink spilling over the general. What followed was angry Imlerith and a man who was very afraid.

“Nothing like juvenile behaviour to impress a woman.” Avallac’h’s voice spoke on his left and Caranthir turned making sure he did not get to talk to Aine the same way Ge’els did. Giving one of them advantage was more than enough for a night. “You are one of the greatest mages here and you use your magic for...what?”

Caranthir stared at him. He wasn’t a child anymore, he could use his magic for whatever he wanted. “Maybe you should have tried it with Lara. Maybe juvenile behaviour would have impressed her more than...what? Moonlight walks?”

They looked at each other. They had crossed a line, Avallac’h knew it and Caranthir knew it, but neither of them was going to step back.

“I hear Eredin wants you to take my place.” Avallac’h smiled.

“He should have done it sooner, with all the disappointment you have delivered.” Caranthir had gotten better at that. Years ago he would have lost his temper. Now the whole interaction was burning him from the inside, but he was still in control.

“The only disappointment I ever delivered is you, Caranthir.” Avallac’h face was emotionless but Caranthir saw how pleased he was in his eyes. “Truce?”

“Why are you even talking to me?” Caranthir’s frustration was growing, it wasn’t Avallac’h’s words, he couldn’t care less what his teacher thought. He hated being treated like a child and that was always how it started and ended.

“It is a social event Caranthir, people come to social events to socialize.” again that patronizing tone as if he was a toddler who needs to be scolded. “I heard an interesting story, from one of your servants. Yesterday when you came to my room I really wondered what despaired you so much to come.”

“Can you stay out of my business?” Caranthir raised his voice maybe a bit too much as could of people nearby turned their heads.

“I would, but you made it my business, remember, you asked.” he was right about that, his own internal tournament had pushed him there. “I’m happy for you.” there was no mockery in his voice, not as he said that. “I’m sure you will handle it well.” there came the mockery.

Caranthir wasn’t even angry that Avallac’h was teasing him, he was angry because Avallac’h was right. He couldn’t handle it well, he could turn a dragon into stardust but he could not control his own emotions or feelings.

“At least I won’t be left for a human.” he gave Avallac’h a smile.

“No but...you were left.” at first Caranthir didn’t understand what his teacher was talking about, but then he turned. Aine was gone.

Aine stopped listening to the conversation that was happening between Caranthir and the other man as soon as the navigator turned his back at her. There was her chance she just needed to calmly find her way to the door and from there the main gate and she would be free. Caranthir’s focus was entirely on the man, his whole body language had changed and she knew he was not paying attention to her, it was as if she had stopped existing, which was exactly what she needed.

She made a careful step backwards, wondering if he would notice, but nothing happened. Another one. Nothing happened. Then she turned around and started walking as calmly as she could, without running, but her feet just wanted to move faster and be out of there. She passed a pair of guards but nobody paid attention to her...of course they didn't. She was dressed like all the other guests, who would stop her. By the time she passed the last set of guards before the main gate she was running. It was so close to her freedom, she would be out of this terrible place and terrifying people.

Suddenly she saw a bright light ahead of her and she lost her balance, falling back on the cold ground. A portal with frost edges appeared before her and Caranthir stepped out of it. Her blood froze in her body. She was almost sure he would kill her now. Didn’t matter if she could not have her freedom, death was a good alternative compared to everything else he could do to her. His face did not betray anything, nor anger nor satisfaction, like most of the night he was just unreadable. He leaned forward and grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her up. Aine didn’t make a sound, she knew whatever was coming was neither going to be gentle nor pleasant. She had to accept it.

He turned her around, her arms crossed over her chest, his wrapped around her. In different circumstances his embrace might be even romantic, now she just felt as if he was about to crush her, pulling her close to his body.

“Crafty little spell that allows me to find you anywhere. You think I would take you out of your cage and just hope for the best?” he was leaning forward whispering in her ear, she could sense the warmth of his breath. “Where do you even think you are going?”

“Home!” She tried to free herself but he was way stronger and his grip was too firm.

“Silly girl. Your home is gone. We burned it to stop the humans from hiding so deep in the woods. You have no home.”

“You are lying!” he must be, there was no reason he would be telling the truth. “And even if you are not lying, anywhere is better than here.”

“Are you sure?” his grip around her eased, he turned her around, his hands still holding hers. It was dark but his pale eyes were reflecting whatever little light was in the yard, he was like a wild beast. “Half human half elf mut, alone in the world. How will that work for you? The elves will look down on you, always. Humans will never accept you, you are better than them why should they.” His words hurt but that did not mean they were a lie. There was a reason she lived far away from everybody. Sure at first she did not have a choice, but then she realized that she would never be accepted by any of them. She will always be different.

“So what, I’m supposed to do? Stay here?” she tried to sound confident, but the words had no bite.

“Why not?” he tilted his head as if he was studying something on her and then reached for her face, his fingers brushing her jaw almost loverlike. “I can teach you magic, you can have whatever you want.”

“I want a home. My home.” Honestly that was all she ever wanted, but right now for her it meant anywhere but here. She was scared, he had made it clear he wanted her here, she was denying him that, she couldn’t see herself living a long and happy life past that point.

Nothing happened for a very long moment, his face remained unchanged, she could read nothing on it. “You can go.” he finally said. “The guards won’t bother you.”

Caranthir didn’t want to watch her go so he turned around and walked back to the castle, angry. He could evaporate everyone here just to satisfy the temper. He wasn’t angry with her, she did the most logical thing one could do, saw an opportunity and used it.

He saw a servant carrying a bottle of alcohol and he grabbed it.

His first mistake was that assumed he could ever be happy in that way. His second mistake was listening to Avallac’h. His third mistake was he allowed himself to believe his teacher. In reality Crevan was right, Caranthir was a cage filled with anger, spite and violence, that was him leaving the cage door open and what happened? His bird left. If he had kept it close she would be here now with him. No, if he had kept her here she would have fought him and things would never go his way. At least not the way he wanted them to go.

He found himself back in the main hall and went straight to the balcony, no one was there so he could drink in peace. He leaned against the railing and watched the city. He could sense her, in a moment of reason he had put a curse on himself to be able to feel her. She might go wherever but he would know where she was and what she felt. He drank. The way she looked at him...she never turned her eyes away at his face, she never even said anything about it. Was it fear or she just...didn’t care? He drank. He could see her mismatching eyes looking at him, pleading with him to let her go. Was he that bad? Was he really that terrible that he did not deserve someone who can accept him for what he was? He drank. Probably locking someone in a room for a week was not the way to do it either…

“My lord.” someone spoke behind him and Caranthir turned around. Ailin Eurig was standing there, Aine’s father. He could pick some of the features from his face on hers, elegance of the face, the thin nose, better suited for her face then his. “Forgive me for the bluntness, but I couldn’t fail to notice the woman that was with you tonight.”

Caranthir narrowed his eyes. He knew that was not a social visit, it was a game. He had started the game by accident by bringing her here, but now the game was unfolding. If he was sober or less angry he could probably figure the game sooner, but he wasn’t so he waited.

“She reminded me of someone, someone I have not seen in years.” the man continued after he saw Caranthir will not respond.

“Yes, she is your daughter.” He decided to cut to the chase, he wasn’t in the mood for long pointless conversation, he needed the man to get to the point.

“Fascinating really.” The man seemed amused and Caranthir could feel his anger building once more. “I’m impressed. From my bastard daughter, who left the home rather ungrateful for everything I had provided for her to your bed. Then again humans and their offspring are good for one thing and one thing only. I hope she brings you as much joy as her mother brought me.” It was the words that burned in Caranthir’s mind but also the man’s smile. He did not care what he thought about the humans as a whole, nor about half elves, but that was personal. He didn’t view her as half elf, she was...like him and she completed parts of him that he was missing. If he was sober or less angry he would probably come up with a clever remark, make the man feel small and walk away. He was neither. Also he wished she was in his bed, not even because of lust, he needed to hold her and be held desperately.

Caranthir turned his whole attention to the man, holding the bottle in his left hand he grabbed him by the throat with his right and pushed him toward the railing. Half of the man’s body was hanging outside all Caranthir needed was just a bit more and the man would decorate Eredin’s front courtyard.

“I cannot decide right now if I want to push you down or I want to turn you in a worm and go fishing tomorrow.” the man’s hands gripped around his wrist but Caranthir was drunk and he didn’t think straight. In that moment he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. Eredin was standing there.

“Whatever that is, you are neither pushing him down, nor you are feeding the fish with him.” Eredin squeezed his shoulder as if knowing Caranthir was past reason at that point, not even because of the man he was about to kill, he just happened to be the last drop in a very full glass. He stepped back letting the man step on the balcony.

“Your majesty!” Ailin was red and gasping. “Outrageous! Your navigator needs to know his place that was unprovoked attacked and he needs to be punished for that.”

“Punished?” Eredin smiled. “My lord, if I have four peasants, I can make myself four lords. If I have four lords, I cannot make even half of Caranthir.” the king stopped letting the words sink in the air. “I think my navigator and I need to have a conversation if you excuse us.”

The man bowed his head and walked away obviously getting the message of who is more replaceable. Carathir wasn’t proud of himself he knew he overreacted over something he usually probably wouldn’t. Or even sober and calm he would have reacted like that again as it was personal. Eredin looked at him, green eyes filled with...disappointment. First Avallac’h, then Aine and now Eredin.

“What was that all about?” the king finally asked after he had subjugated his navigator to his tortuous look for long enough.

“He said something, I took it personally.” he finally responded, he couldn’t believe the shame in his voice.

“Was it personal?” Eredin seemed curious.

He could lie. He could say yes. But it wasn’t. The man said what almost everybody else thought. Humans were below them and half elves had this strange place in their society that no one could truly define, but certainly they were not Aen Elle. It wasn’t like he and Imlerith had never made a joke about that. But it was also personal, the joke was not about them, the humans or them the half elves. It was about someone Caranthir cared about on a level he did not truly understand. He didn’t answer.

“Your arrogance does not need to hear that, but I will say it once.” Eredin leaned forward and grabbed the back of Carantjir’s head pulling him closer, his lips on the navigator’s ear. “You are valuable to me, and I like you. But I’m the king and I have a kingdom to rule and so happens his lordship is one of the richest and most influential people here. Ge’els tells me he is weak, but he has a son who isn’t, you kill the weak worm, we end up in a civil war. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Caranthir nodded, Eredin rarely spelled out things so loud and clear which only enhanced the gravity of the situation. He knew politics was fragile right now. Despite all the power Eredin held, there were people who just needed an excuse to turn the tables. There were those who thought themselves better than him and those who simply didn’t like him. Mages had ruled over Aen Elle for years and now someone else held the crown. Everyone needed an excuse.

“Ge’els will fix things, you get yourself out of Tir na Lia for a few days.” Eredin stepped back, there was fire burning in his eyes. Caranthir knew if Eredin had a choice he wouldn’t care what happened here, but the crown did not give him more freedom, it did the opposite. He nodded again. Ge’els will do his political talk and Caranthir will be out of sight so he does not add salt to the injury. He preferred to be in the mountains anyway, at least until he figured out his other problem.

#caranthir ar feiniel #aen elle #my writing

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years ago

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364 Days To Go - Director Keller x Reader (Captain Marvel)

Holiday Fic 4! 🎄🎄

GIF Credit: X

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

Author’s Note: This Holiday season belongs to the less popular boys and honestly I’m all here for it! Keller was the last one I came up with and it was just because I put all my Christmas music on shuffle and I was like “whoooo... could I use this for?” And then thought hard on it and came up with a kinda cute Keller scenario. Also he deserves more love!!

Really, by the title alone, this should be the post Christmas fic, but, oh well!

Disclaimer: Captain Marvel Characters Not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine / usual stuff, different fic!

Premise: December 25th may almost be over, but you can both still have a little fun...

Words: 1431

Warnings: The setting is Christmas day, although Christmas is not mentioned by name / drinking / if you squint there is the tiniest of sexual references

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Wrapping paper everywhere Stacked up dishes, but who cares They can wait until tomorrow now It's you and me, and this old couch

The Christmas tree in our living room Fills the room with pine perfume And colored lights dancing on the walls While Nat King Cole sings "Deck The Halls"

Thanks for my robe, no that's ok It looks better on you anyway What is it about this time of year That makes our troubles disappear 'Cause don't you get the sense tonight That for now the world is right And as another Christmas ends My mind drifts and once again I'm thinking like a six year old Only 364 days to go

We can't avoid it No way around it Before too long we'll be Either back to work back to school Or just back to reality

Don't you get the sense tonight That for now the world is right And as another Christmas ends My mind drifts and once again I'm thinking like a six year old Only 364 days to go Be here before you know it

---

The house was filled with the sound of holiday music. Although, without putting a damper on things, the holiday was almost over. Well, the main part of it anyway. But neither of you were thinking about that. In fact the music was the only sound, as currently you were both nestled on the couch together, your head on Keller’s chest. There was plenty of reason to move, you supposed. Remnants of brightly coloured paper still littered the floor, a stack of dishes by the sink that - if you were really cognizant - you should probably get started on. But, there was always tomorrow… This was the very last day of the year you would ever have had your partner working on. Even if it wasn’t work work.

Besides, you were both currently stuck in a food coma, and snuggled on the couch was the only place to be; drifting in and out of sleep with the heat on high and his arms around you. You were surprised that he hadn’t even taken one glance at his pager today. You would understand for any other Agent (heck, you’d hurled yours across the room the second you’d got in last night, where it’d clattered against the wall. And even upon Keller’s insistence, you hadn’t gone to retrieve it yet - and, didn’t see him doing it for you), but not the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D… Keller constantly told you that, for him, there was always something going on. Which meant today should be no exception. He was doing this for you, you knew. But you were glad he was taking respite for once; he deserved it. You knew how important his position was, but Keller always worked so damn hard. You thought it was about time he got some recognition for that - even if it was in the form of a quiet moment on the couch with you. Running your fingers gently through his steel grey hair, Keller didn’t really stir; his grip on you loosened slightly, and that sleepy content hum made you do nothing but smile. You pressed a kiss gently to his forehead and cheek before you stole away from his arms. It was about time to get yourself back in your pyjamas you thought! Hurrying quietly from the room, you halted and turned back to his gifts. A little smirk formed on your face; on second thought… *** By the time you returned to him Keller was awake but still looked a little drowsy; head in his hand, propped up by his elbow on his knee, as he held open a book with his other hand. As you shuffled into the room he looked up and then immediately laughed. “Oh, I see you’re wasting no time stealing my clothes, huh?” To be honest the robe was almost a joke gift, you’d had it embroidered with ‘Director J. R. Keller’ across the left breast and then kidded with him that no one was going to be able to take the J off this. You brought your shoulders up as high as they could go and tucked yourself into it, “It’s very comfy, I gotta say.” Then made a motion to take it off, “Would you like it back?” “No… No…” He waved his free hand, “It looks good on you…” Keller continued to stare at you for a moment before smiling, “Go on, give us a twirl.” “Ah!” You gave him your very best and then posed, “What do you think?” “Yeah.” He almost said it flatly, “Gonna look so much better on you.” Before he placed the book down and opened his arms, “C’mon…”

You eagerly crossed the room, and back into Keller’s welcoming embrace. “I love you so much.” “I got the idea… yeah!” That only made you giggle again as he captured your lips with his own, rubbing his hands over your arms as if to warm you up. “PJs too? Man, I missed the memo…” Keller was still in a nice shirt and pants. A little more relaxed than his usual suit (and sleeves rolled up, as you would have requested; his forearms were something to behold), but no less easy on the eye. “Time to get comfortable.” “Just seems like a typical non-work day for you, then.” You gasped, pretending to get offended and smacked his arm, “Don’t say the ‘W’ word!” “Oh, geez, I should have guessed that was banned too.” “Are you trying to be humorous?” He quirked an eyebrow, amused, and you tried to hold your serious face for all of 3 seconds before you snorted, “Okay. You win this round, Mr. Keller!” He allowed you to steal a series of short kisses, before he settled you back on the couch alone; turning the music up a little, he poured you both a glass of mulled wine. Handing your glass over to you, Keller didn’t sit back down. You wondered if he was attempting to stretch his body out after the confines of the couch. “Hey, don’t get any of this over my robe now.” “Oh my god…” You shook your head at him, “Just tell me if you want me to take it off-!” He smirked through his sip, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” You rolled your eyes, and for a minute it went quiet before you studied him a little closer. He wasn’t even really looking at you, more surveying the decor of the house and paying attention to the songs, but Keller still knew what you were doing; “What?” “Just making sure that pager of yours isn’t on you!” He scoffed, “So you can yell at me today of all days of the year?” He took another sip before he placed his glass down and held his hand out for you. You took a bigger gulp of wine than you thought was necessarily, and you watched his face try to remain stoic and not even a little disappointed in you for doing so, before you took the hand he offered and let him pull you off the couch. Keller spun you into his arms and held you close, letting you lay your hand flat against his before you laced your fingers together, and he swayed you gently to the music. “Oh? You want to dance with me when I’m not even dressed appropriately?” “I’ll forgive it.” He chuckled, but then took a more serious breath, “You know that I don’t care, right?” “I’m just teasing you-!” Although you couldn’t help but blush gently; you knew he would take you any way you wished to present to him. That was just the kind of man that he was. You weren’t sure that anyone in the world deserved him really, but you weren’t about to argue with the look of love on his face today. Instead you’d simply bask in it, honoured that Keller chose to give it to you. You continued to sway slowly to the music as song changed into song, changed into song… and both of you once again surveyed the room, and tried not to think of everything you’d have to do tomorrow. The darkness had drawn in, but there was still something magical about it today, instead of gloomy and depressing. You couldn’t help but grin as you looked back into his soft blue eyes, it might have almost been over, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still have childish excitement about next year. “Only 364 days to go!” Keller gave an encouraged nod of agreement, “And imagine what can happen in that time-!” Only he added a mysterious little wink, causing you to narrow your eyes; “OKAY what is going on at work!?” His look was of pure innocence, “Nothing! Well- No, maybe something, but I can promise I don’t know!” You tilted your head, “To be honest, I’m surprised. Your fingers must be itching to click that little button.” Keller shrugged, “100% honesty? I haven’t really thought about it.” And he really did mean it, although he laughed, “But I’m sure I’ll wake to a million messages tomorrow-!” “Any way I could persuade you to collect another million more?” “Not check tomorrow?” Keller paused your swaying for a second, sucking his breath in between his teeth and pretending to think hard on it, “Just try it…” “Mmm. Think I will.” You winked, before removing your hands from his and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull Keller into a deep kiss.

364 days to go, maybe… But if it was 364 days filled with kisses like this, you wouldn’t mind waiting one bit.

---

Thank you for reading! And as my last fic before Christmas, Happy Holidays!!! 🎁🎅🎄

#Director Keller #Keller #Director Keller x Reader #Keller x Reader #Agent!Reader #Agent!Reader series #Captain Marvel #Ben Mendelsohn #204 #Holiday Fic #Linzi Writes #Smol Bean Drabbles #Every time I write for Keller and listen to his playlist I JUST wanna write for my space girl!#But can't do it! Just can't do it-!#In the words of Payne /I've tried... I have tried!/#If I could draw #that would be helpful because I'd love to /DRAW/ them together.#Anyways...#Look /the last of the real ones/ by Fall Out Boy for Keller/Maliyah though. HOLY. SHIT.

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captainjaspenor · 4 years ago

Text

Fire in My Bones - Chapter 4

heFirst of all, I want to say a huge apology for the wait. First I moved, and then I had to get settled in, and then I was job hunting and before I knew it weeks had flown by. I worked on this slowly the entire time though, so it was never abandoned. Also, I have been working on a Last Kingdom (Finan x Reader) story that was stealing some of my attention.

Anyway, thank you all for being patient. I appreciate all the nice things you guys have been saying about the previous chapters! I hope this next one doesn’t disappoint. It does have some action in it for you too!

Surprisingly no one guessed last chapter’s song title which came from “I Know Places” by Taylor Swift. As usual, if you know this week’s song title comment or message me and you’ll get a shoutout.

Title: Fire in My Bones

Show: Cursed

Pairing: Weeping Monk x Reader

Warnings: Blood, mild violence, language, mentions of death and dying

Summary: “From the trees, shrouded in smoke, he emerges. The Weeping Monk. Around you the terrified screams of the Fey and the pained groans of the dying fade away. You forget the acrid smell and taste of the smoke and ash as it burns your throat and lungs. You forget Nimue, who is hiding behind you, clutching at your cloak, shaking like a leaf.”

Chapter 4: I’m Burning So Deep That Just Breathing Hurts

Note: For the sake of the story, I assumed that Episodes 3&4 happened on two different days.

You wail as your teacher drags you by the arm into the hut where your father holds his council. You’d begged your teacher not to involve your father, but your pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

Your father is standing on the far side of a large wooden table, which is currently covered in rolled out maps. Around him, his war council discusses plans. At the sound of your intrusion, your father looks up.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he demands.

Your teacher stands straighter, but his hold on your arm only grows tighter. “May I have a word with you, Lord?” He glances at the other men in the room. “Alone.”

Your father glares down at you and you try not to cower under his scrutiny. With a flick of his hand he dismisses the others and they make a quick exit. Your father’s temper is legendary. “Speak,” your father says.

Your teacher steps forward and gives you a shove. You stumble but manage to stay upright. “Go on, (Y/N),” your teacher demands, “Tell him what you told me.”

Your lower lips wobbles, but you don’t cry. It will be worse if you cry. “I don’t want to do the lessons,” you admit.

“Why not?” Your father comes around the table to stand in front of you. “I – I–” you stutter, unable to get the words out now that he’s towering over you.

“She says she’s afraid of fire. What kind of Fire Folk is afraid of fire?” your teacher scoffs.

“You’re dismissed,” your father says, not taking his eyes away from yours. You’re teacher starts to say something, but your father cuts him off. “Go.” His tone leaves no room for further arguments. Your teacher exits, and though you hate him you wish he’d stay. Because you know what’s coming next.

Still, the ferocity behind the smack catches you off guard. He’s hit you before, but never this hard. “Get up,” he grabs your by the back of the shirt and half drags, half pushes you out of the tent and into the center of your village. “No daughter of mine is going to be afraid of fire,” he snarls in your ear. The people do not so much as glance at the two of you as they pass, knowing that if they do they risk bringing your father’s wrath down on them as well.

In the center of town stands a large pillar, where criminals and prisoners of war are tied up and tortured. And if they’re not fire folk, burned alive. You realize your father’s intention now and you begin to struggle.

“No,” you claw and kick and scream, “I’ll do the lessons, I swear I’ll do the lessons,” you sob in fear, “Father, please! I swear I’m not afraid, I swear.” But it’s no use.

Your father clutches your wrists in one strong hand while using the other to wrap a thick iron chain around them. You try to pull free, but he’s too strong and the chains are locked in place. Your father walks over to a large pile of kindling kept nearby for just such occasions and begins to pile it around your feet. You beg and thrash and fight, but the chains hold and so does your father’s resolve. At last he comes to stand by you. He roughly grabs your tearful face with his hand and forces you to look at him.

“You are to fear nothing and no one,” he hisses. You sob harder as he creates a small flame under your feet. It doesn’t take long to spread and soon you’re engulfed in flames. You scream in fear as the flames lick your legs and burn away your clothes. You can see nothing but smoke and you feel the warmth from the fire around you.

You don’t know how long you stand there, an hour, maybe two? You scream and howl until your throat is raw and no sound will come out. Eventually the flames begin to subside taking your tears along with them. When the fire goes out you’re left naked and covered in ash and soot, but still chained. Your wrists are red, raw, and burnt. You wish one of the passing village people would unshackle you, but you know you won’t be freed until the sun sets. Father’s orders.

You shiver in the cold for hours watching as the sun slowly creeps lower in the sky. The moment the last sliver of sunlight disappears over the horizon your mother is there. She removes the chains and bundles you up before carrying you towards your family’s tent. Her gentle, soothing touch is welcome.

“Why does father hate me?” you whisper to her as one fat tear rolls down your cheek.

“Oh, (Y/N), your father doesn’t hate you,” your mothers says, “He loves you, very much. He just…Training you to be a warrior is the only way he knows how to be a father. To him, forcing you to face your fears is his way of showing you that he loves you. Do you understand, little one?”

“Mama? I’m not scared of fire,” you confide, “I’m scared because sometimes I can’t control it.”

“You should be afraid,” she says. You must look surprised because she adds, “Fire is dangerous, (Y/N). Fire Folk can create fire and manipulate it, but we can’t put it out once it starts to burn. And though we cannot burn, humans and the other fey can.” Her tone grows stern. “That’s why you must only use fire as a last resort.” You nod and she kisses your forehead softly.

“Mama?” you ask, as the two of you approach the tent. “If fire can’t hurt me then why am I burned?” You hold up your blistered wrists.

“The chains your father used are iron. Iron is the only thing that can burn us. Remember that, (Y/N), but never tell another soul. If the other fey—or gods forbid, the humans—found out, they’d use it against us.

You wake before the monk does. It’s no surprise considering you’re sleeping on the hard floor. You sit up and stretch to loosen up your aching body. It’s been awhile since you’ve slept somewhere this uncomfortable. You pull the blanket up around you to ward off the early morning chill. In the corner the torch still burns, allowing you to watch the monk as he sleeps.

He looks different when he’s asleep. Peaceful, almost. You don’t know how long you watch him sleep, but eventually his steady breathing becomes shallower and he begins to stir. His eyes open and meet yours.

“How long have you been staring at me?” he asks, sitting up.

“Long enough to know that you drool in your sleep,” you say.

“I don’t drool,” he dismisses. He’s right. He doesn’t, but you might be right now. Down to nothing but his undershirt – black, of course – you can see practically every muscle move when he so much as breathes. You nearly moan when he lifts an arm to run a hand through his bound hair. You continue to stare, unabashed, but the monk seems uncomfortable with your scrutiny. He looks down at his hands and picks at the bandages with his fingers.

“Can I take these off?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, though part of you wants to offer to do it for him, just to be able to touch him again.

He begins to fiddle with the knot you tied in the bandage, but with only one hand he struggles to undo it. After a few futile attempts, he sighs. He looks up at you and you can see the question in his eyes. You debate making him say it out loud, but he looks so pitiful, you give in and go to him.

He makes a move as if to stand, but you shake your head. This time you don’t hesitate to take your place between his legs as you take his hand and begin to untie the small knot at the base of his wrist. He shifts and little and his thigh brushes your hip. Your fingers fumble and you pray he doesn’t notice.

“I have to leave the abbey today,” the monk says in a voice not much louder than a whisper.

You continue to slowly unwrap the bandage. “Why?”

“We’re going to ride out and search for the witch. She can’t have gotten far,” the monk says.

At first you don’t answer. Instead you methodically finish unwrapping the first bandage. You observe your handiwork, happy to see that the blisters have healed nicely. They’ll still be tender, but they won’t impede any movement. You move on to the next hand. “How long will you be gone?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he admits. Once again you remain silent. You finish the second hand faster than the first and step back to allow him to see the results himself, but he keeps his eyes on you. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he says.

Somewhere in the back of your mind your father’s voice echoes: No one will ever come back for you.

You nod and gather the dirty bandages. You drop them on the chest the empty mortar and pestle. As his prisoner, you really shouldn’t be upset that your jailer is telling you that he won’t be around in order to keep an eye on you today, but somehow you are.

You observe the monk. He’s still sitting on the bed, his elbows on his knees, looking at his nearly healed hands. You notice his hair is still ruffled from sleep and you fight the urge to cross the room and brush it back. You glance down at the bed and notice a red stain.

“You’re bleeding,” you say.

The monk looks at his shoulder and presses his fingers to the wound. They come away red. “Well, you did stab me,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “You haven’t gotten it stitched yet?” The monk shakes his head and you let out a frustrated noise. You grab the leftover sutures, needle, and cloth Celia left behind and place them on the bed next to him.

“What are you doing?” he asks as you thread the needle.

“I’m going to stitch it for you,” you say. The monk seems surprised by your answer. “Take your shirt off,” you demand and you place yourself between his legs once more.

“No,” he says. “You can stitch it, but I keep my shirt on.”

You shrug and he unlaces his undershirt as far down as it will go. He pushes the fabric to the side to reveal the bloody wound.

“You idiot,” you chastise him as you begin to clean the area with a damp cloth, “You’ve let it bleed for two days? Do you want to get an infection?” The monk looks a little embarrassed by your scolding and opens his mouth to interrupt, but you shush him. “I don’t want to hear any excuses from you.” Once the wound is clean enough you carefully prod at the edges. The wound isn’t large but it’s deep. You feel bad that you’re the one who gave it to him. Almost.

“Well?” the monk says when you finish your inspection. “Am I going to live?” he asks sarcastically.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t trying to kill you, Monk,” you quip. “The dagger missed all the big veins and arteries and only hit muscle. It’ll take time to heal, but there shouldn’t be any lasting damage.” You wish you had something to sterilize the wound with, but you’ll have to make do with water. If the needle going in and out of his flesh bothers the monk, he doesn’t show it.

You work in silence for a while before asking, “Is Father Carden going with you?” The monk nods. “He must really want this girl dead,” you say.

“She killed one of our brothers,” the monk explains.

“Really? How?”

“She strung him up with branches. The branches were…inside of him,” the monk says.

Your sewing falters. “That is… considerable magic. What else do you know about this Wolf-Blood Witch?” You try to keep your tone neutral.

“Nothing more than what I’ve already told you,” the monk admits. “She told the abbess that her name is Alice, but that’s probably a lie.” You make a thoughtful noise and continue your stitching. You remain silent but your mind is racing, trying to use what little clues you had to figure out the identity of the fey girl in question. Whoever she is, you hope she’s gotten herself far away from here.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks. You shrug so he continues, “Why are you helping me?”

You consider the question. “My mother used to tell me…” You clear your throat, talking about her is always hard. “She told me that there is a time to kill and a time to heal, and that it’s important to know the difference.” You can tell he’s not satisfied with this, so you elaborate. “You let me live. True, I’m a prisoner, but I’m alive. And I don’t know if it’s for some sadistic reason that I’ll find out later, but so far you’ve been…kind to me.” You make the mistake of looking into those striking eyes of his. His expression is unreadable. “And I don’t like seeing you—I mean, seeing anyone–hurt when I can help,” you stammer. Smooth. You force yourself to break eye contact and go back to stitching. You can feel the monk’s eyes burning into you, but you refuse to look up until you finish the last couple of stitches.

Finally, you tie off the last suture. You have no excuse to avoid his gaze now. “I’m done,” your voice is nearly a whisper; the two of you are so close.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” For a brief moment you think you see something akin to tenderness in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say more, but the door opens and Celia comes bustling in. You step back and the monk’s face is a mask once more.

“Oh.” She stops and takes the two of you in. “I’m sorry, but Father Carden has asked for you,” she says to the monk. She gives you a look before adding, “I’ll wait outside.”

The monk stands and laces up his undershirt. He dresses quickly, avoiding eye contact to your disappointment. The finishing touch is his sword belt. As he straps it on, he finally looks at you. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says before leaving once more. You feel almost as if he’s taken your heart with him, but you remind yourself how foolish that is.

You gather up the bloody rags and discarded needle and place them on the table along with the mortar and pestle. The door opens and for a moment you think it might be the monk returning, but it’s Celia. She doesn’t say anything as she begins to collect up the used supplies.

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” you try to explain yourself.

“You helped him.” It’s not question.

“It was the right thing to do,” you say.

Celia cuts you off. She seems almost subdued. “(Y/N), I’m not judging you. I understand what it’s like to…want something that you shouldn’t,” she says.

“Is everything alright?” you ask.

“It’s Morgana,” she admits, “She hasn’t been seen since yesterday. I’m worried something bad has happened.”

“I don’t know Morgana personally, but from what you’ve told me, she seems like she can take care of herself,” you say, but she doesn’t look convinced. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon, Celia,” you take one of her shaking hands in yours.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” She smiles softly at you. “I have to go. Father Carden has called for us to gather in the courtyard, but I’ll return later with lunch.” Once again, you are locked in and alone.

Time passes slowly as you wait for Celia to return. You run through a few basic exercises and try to loosen up your sore muscles, but that doesn’t take long and before you know it you’re back to square one.

Eventually your mind wanders to the monk. He’d said come back as soon as he could, but every bit of training in you screams not to believe him. He could leave you locked in here for days, weeks, even months if he wanted to. He could starve you or let his brothers torture you for information about the fey. He could kill you. And he has no reason not to. You want to believe that the two of you have some sort of mutual respect, but you can’t really trust that after having one – okay, maybe two – conversations with him.

Your head wants to find a way to escape, but your heart wants to stay and wait for the monk to return. If he returns. If you’re going to escape then this evening will be your best opportunity. You have to assume that most of the Red Paladins are with Father Carden and the monk, searching for the Wolf Blood Witch. Now that you’re hands aren’t bound, you can take on at least a few brothers even if you don’t currently have a weapon. They abbey is a maze and you’ve only been led through it blindfolded, but you can find your way out one way or another, even if you have to persuade one of the brothers to show.

In the end it’s your loyalty to Nimue that sways you. You know that you owe it to her—and Lenore—to do your best to get out of here and find them. You study the lock on the door. You’re pleased to discover that it appears easy enough to pick given the right tools. You look around the room, but there’s nothing small enough to fit through the keyhole. You dig through the trunk at the base of the monk’s bed, but only find a couple of dusty blankets. Frustrated, you return to the bed and sit. If you can’t find something small enough to turn the tumblers in the lock then any future plans are futile.

Thankfully you don’t get to wallow in self-pity long because the lock clicks and Celia enters. _

The man screams and begs for mercy, but the monk runs him through anyway. He’s used to killing men as they beg for their lives. It doesn’t bother him anymore. Almost. He turns and walks away from the body. He digs a stained rag from his pocked and begins to methodically wipe the blood from his blade.

He approaches one of the brothers standing by. “The caravans are run by a man named Dizier. Drives a wagon full of leather goods. Go,” he dismisses and the brother exits to spread the word.

The monk sheathes his blade as Father Carden approaches from behind. “How many?” the older man asks.

“Just one. A Tusk,” the monk reports as he uses the rag to wipe any remaining traces of blood from his hands.

Father Carden nods, pleased. “Still, another smuggler off the road.”

“I found something else.” He leads Father Carden to the trees lining the road, nodding towards the symbols hidden among them. “They’re in the trees and on the ground,” the monk says as he stops to gently run his fingers over one of the intricate spirals.

“What are they?” Father Carden asks.

“Directions.”

“To where?”

“I only have pieces,” the monk admits, “Somewhere north. Toward the Minotaur. A sanctuary. The caravans, they move one, two at a time, but this… This is where we’ll find them all. And I know someone who can take us there.”

You’re surprised to see that Celia’s been crying. “What is it? What’s wrong?” you ask as you go to her. You guide her to one of the stools and take the plate from her hands, setting it on the table.

Celia tears start anew. “The Red Paladins took the abbess. They drug her away and put her in a caravan. Father Carden said she’s to be punished for harboring the Wolf-Blood Witch. He’s going to have her killed,” she weeps.

You take her into your arms and whisper reassurances. You know what it’s like to have someone you care about taken away from you suddenly and you know that nothing you say can actually help, but you try anyway.

Eventually her sobs subside to small sniffs and she pulls away. Her face is tearstained and blotchy. “There’s something else.” You raise your eyebrows at her, indicating she should go on. “Morgana’s left the abbey.”

“How do you know, I thought she hadn’t been seen since yesterday?”

“She came back, but now she’s gone again. I think she blames herself for the abbess.”

“The abbess? Why?” you ask.

Celia lowers her voice, even though you’re the only two in the room. “She’s the one who was helping the girl, Alice.”

“And where has she gone now? Morgana.”

“There’s this place she’s been talking about, a sanctuary for the fey kind.”

“Nemos,” you mutter.

“You know it?” Celia asks, perking up. “Have you been there?”

“Once,” you sigh and take a seat on the other stool.

“And Morgana? She will be safe there?” Celia asks, hopeful.

“As safe as any fey, I suppose. But Celia, these are dangerous times for the fey and those who help us,” you warn her.

“I know. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t budge,” Celia admits. She tears up. You suspect that Morgana may mean more to Celia than she’s let on, but you don’t want to pry.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” you reassure her. “Morgana seems more than capable of taking care of herself. After all, she snuck the Wolf-Blood Witch into the abbey right under the Weeping Monk’s nose,” you joke. It works and Celia cracks a smile.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a while as Celia composes herself.

“She asked me to go with her,” she finally says.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was afraid,” Celia says, “I still am. Part of me wants to go after her, but I’ve never lived anywhere but this abbey. I’m terrified of the world outside of these four walls. And the sisters, they’re my family! I can’t just abandon them.”

It’s not your place to try and change her mind, but still you ask, “And can you live knowing you may never see Morgana again?” Celia doesn’t respond, probably because she doesn’t know the answer herself. “Look, Celia, I can’t tell you what’s the right choice here, but I want you to know that it’s okay to want something good for yourself. It’s okay to choose love,” you tell her. Celia glances at you shyly at your use of the word “love” but you give her a reassuring smile.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admits.

“You don’t have to decide now. Think it over. Sleep on it. You can still go tomorrow if you want.”

With that the two of you lapse into casual conversation while you devour the lunch Celia has brought you. It’s a slab of meat with some bread and cheese. Nothing fancy, but you’re grateful all the same. It’s during one of Celia’s long-winded answers about one of the sisters at the abbey that you notice it: two small wires coiled tightly around the handles of the handmade utensils you’ve been using to cut the meat. You try to keep your face neutral as you mentally judge about how long the wires will be once unwrapped and straightened out. By your calculations they should be just long enough to use to pick the lock.

Nonchalantly you nod along to Celia’s story while bringing the fork to your lap. You slowly unwind the wire and leave it on your lap as you bring the fork back up and stick it into the meat. You repeat the process with the knife, taking a few bites in between to avoid arousing any suspicion to what your hands are doing under the table.

After the meal concludes you place the utensils on the plate and scoot it towards Celia, praying she won’t notice the missing wires. Thankfully she seems oblivious as she gathers up the empty plate and goes to exit.

At the last second she asks, “(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“I know you’ve probably already figured out how to escape and you’d probably succeed if you tried, but I’m going to ask you not to. I know you don’t owe me anything, but if you run the sisters and I – we’ll be punished and with the abbess gone, I’m afraid of what they might do to us,” Celia says, “If it was just me at risk, I wouldn’t ask, but I fear for my sisters. Please, try to understand.”

You think of Nimue and Squirrel, and send up a silent prayer to the gods that they’re safe and have found each other. “I promise I won’t do anything to put you or your sisters in danger.” You might have just sworn away your last chance at freedom, but Celia’s grateful smile soothes any ill feelings you have. With promises to return later with more food, Celia locks you away in your prison once more. ____ The monk watches in stony silence as his brothers pull the bloated corpses from the bloody pool of water. He can hardly believe that one girl could do this much damage.

Next to him, Father Carden speaks, “Now this… This is a message. She taunts you, my son.” The monk always likes it when Father Carden calls him that. It reminds him of the bond the two share. One forged in blood. “She taunts you with your dead brothers.” The monk can hear the disappointment in his voice and he wants nothing more than to erase it.

“Let us pray,” Father Carden continues. The monk bows his head in obedience. “We pray for the lost souls of our fallen brothers, Almighty Father. We beg thee purge us of our weaknesses, skin us of our mercy. Send a heavenly flame to cleanse our corrupted hearts. And should you deem us unworthy, send us your purest soldier, your avenging angel. Amen.”

Father Carden looks at the monk expectantly. “Are you certain the girl will lead us to the sanctuary?”

“Yes.” The monk nods. “I am.”

You sprint through the woods, cursing silently every time you misstep and a branch snaps under your feet. You know you can’t outrun him, so instead you duck down underneath one of the large trees. A small cave has formed at the base of the trees roots, just large enough for you to crawl into. You tuck yourself in and cover your mouth with your hand to quiet your heavy breathing. You wait.

Moments later you hear him. He doesn’t care how many branches snap beneath his feet, and each step alerts you that he’s getting closer. You try to make yourself even smaller, even less visible, if that’s even at all possible.

Finally, you see him. You can only see from the waist down, as the roots obstruct your view, but you watch as he paces the area, most likely following your tracks. You should have covered them better, but there wasn’t time.

He turns and walks toward your hiding spot and you stop breathing all together. You pray for him to turn around and walk away, but he doesn’t. In three paces, he’s on you. He reaches down and grabs the front of your tunic, hauling you up. He easily lifts you off your feet and presses your back to the tree. He levels the tip of his dagger at your throat.

“I’ve caught you,” your father says, “The Fire Folk have lost the battle and now I’m going to take you captive. What do you do?”

You slide one of your hidden daggers from your forearm sheathe and press it against your own chest. Your father steps back and nods with approval. “That’s right. If you’re captured, you fall on your own sword. Why?” he asks.

“Because no one will ever come back for me.”

He nods. “Because no one will ever come back for you.”

You wake to the smell of smoke. You’re fully alert in seconds. After a quick dinner with Celia you’d passed out early, not having much else to do. But now something’s wrong. The smell is overwhelming and you can see tendrils of black smoke seeping through the door. You pull on your cloak and go to put an ear to the door, but you can’t hear anything. Silence. You call out and bang on your door, but still there is only silence.

You mentally run through your options. Stay here and wait to see what happens or go outside and investigate. You still have the wires from earlier and you can pick the lock, but that would mean breaking your promise to Celia. But what if she needs help? Decision made, you make quick work of the door’s heavy deadbolt. It’s all in the tumblers. Tucking away the tools in case you need them later, you brace yourself and open the door.

A thick black cloud of smoke rushes in around you. A normal person would have trouble seeing with the smoke burning their eyes, but being Fire Folk you’re unaffected. You study the hallway; you’d always been blindfolded when you’d been led through the abbey, so you can’t be sure which way to go. A voice in your head reminds you that when Celia had taken you to bathe, she’d taken you to the left. You would guess that the bathing chambers would be towards the center of the abbey, close to where the sisters sleep. Which means the right most likely leads to a way out of here. You send up a small prayer asking Nimue for forgiveness and go left.

Around you the temperature has risen substantially in the narrow stone hallway you sprint down. You make turn after turn hoping to hear or see someone, but the place seems deserted. You call out Celia’s name, but she doesn’t respond.

You force yourself to stop and think. When you first arrived here Celia had led you up multiple flights of stairs, which means you’re on one of the higher floors. A light goes off in your head and you remember that when Celia had taken you to bathe she’d taken you down the stairs again, and the bathing chambers are likely on the ground floor. And if you know the monk, he’s likely chosen a room away from any one else’s living quarters. Stupid. You’ve been searching the wrong floor.

You check the next floor down, but still have no luck finding anyone. Many of the rooms are locked and you don’t bother picking them, not wanting to waste any time. You find another staircase and continue down.

It’s on the third floor that you check that you finally hear it. It’s faint, but you think you can hear the sound of screaming. Sweat drips from your brow and into your eyes. It glides down your cheeks and falls from your chin onto your leather jerkin. It’s hotter down here, so you figure you’re closer to the source of the fire, not that it’s a problem for you, but it could be for Celia.

You run hard, but it doesn’t seem fast enough. The heat and smoke grow more intense the closer you get. Still the cries are getting louder and clearer. You can tell there are multiple women. And they’re all screaming for their lives. As you round the last corner, you discover the screams are coming from the other side of a massive wooden door. You slam into it at full speed, trying to force it open, but it doesn’t budge.

“Celia?” you shout over the other women’s screams.

“(Y/N)?” she calls back.

“Yes, Celia, it’s me!” You press your hands to the door, overjoyed to have found her. “Don’t worry, I’m going to get you out of there,” you reassure her.

You observe the door and quickly realize that someone has put a lock on the door. No wonder the sisters can’t get out. You reach out and grab it to study the keyhole, but the metal scalds your hand. Iron. You swear violently and you drop the lock. You give your hand a few shakes in a futile attempt to cool the burnt skin. You give up and cradle your burnt hand in the other. Blisters are already forming on your palm. You hiss in frustration. You’ll have to work carefully to get the lock off without touching it. You dig out the small wires and begin to fiddle with the tumblers.

“(Y/N), please, hurry!” Celia begs. You try to drown out the women’s frightened scream and focus on the task at hand. The lock is old and rusty and for a moment you’re worried the wires aren’t strong enough to get the job done when there’s a satisfying click.

You wrap your cloak around your good hand and yank the lock off. Triumphant, you toss it away and shove open the heavy door. Smoke billows out at an alarming rate, proving your theory that at least one of the fires is nearby, likely started in the dorms. You step into the room, only to be met with a horrible sight.

Over twenty sisters of different ages are gathered around the door in disarray. The women are in various states of asphyxiation from the smoke. Some of the older ones have already succumbed to it. You’d been so intent on getting the lock open you hadn’t realized the screaming had stopped. You force yourself to look away from a young girl, not much older than Squirrel, who is lying on the floor with her eyes shut, her breathing shallow.

Behind you a weak voice calls your name. Celia is there, with her dark hair unbound, barefoot and in nothing but a thin nightgown. She has her arms wrapped around an older woman, but it’s clear the woman is moments away from death. You crouch in front of Celia and begin to untangle her arms. She tries to fight you at first, but she’s too weak from the oxygen deprivation.

“Celia, we have to go,” you tell her as you wrap your arms around her and stand up. You have to lean most of her weight on you, which means you won’t be able to go very fast. You pray you don’t have too many more stairs to climb down.

“What about my sisters?” she argues, “I can’t just leave them behind!” Celia begins to struggle against you.

“Celia, please! Most of them are gone already. Think about Morgana! She’d want you to come with me,” you try to reason with her. With that, all the fight leaves her body and she nods. Her breathing is becoming more and more labored. You have minutes at best. “Celia,” you shake her as she drowses, “How do we get out of here?”

With a tremendous amount of effort she lifts her head. “Down the hall to the left,” she mumbles, “Then we go through the courtyard and take a right to the entryway.” You basically drag her down the hallway, praying for a miracle that the courtyard isn’t on fire.

Unfortunately, the gods aren’t on your side today, because as you step through the doorway a large flaming branch from one of the trees snaps off and smashes to the ground only a couple feet in front of you. Sparks go flying and Celia cowers in fear. You hold fast and look around, searching for a way around the fire to get to the aforementioned entryway.

What was clearly once a well-kept courtyard of flowers and trees is now completely ablaze. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s dark outside, because the glow from the fires is so intense and it bathes everything in an eerie orange glow. Plumes of gray smoke disappear into the night sky, so thick that it’s impossible to see the stars. Beside you Celia coughs and takes ragged, painful breaths.

You take off your thick cloak and wrap it tightly around her, making sure to cover her mouth and nose. And then, you summon the Hidden. The flames in front of you part, not unlike the way the Red Sea parted for Moses. If only the Church knew… You keep an arm wrapped around her as you guide her forward. You know the cloak will not catch fire, but it doesn’t cover all of her and the exposed skin on her body has begin to blister and burn from the overwhelming heat coming from the walls of fire on either side of you. You can smell the burning flesh and hear her soft cries. You wish you could ease the pain for her, but have to settle for moving faster and calling out reassurances.

Finally, finally, you lead her out of the small inferno and through the threshold that leads to the abbey’s main entryway. You pray from some reprieve from the heat of the fire, but inside the entryway is also ablaze. In front of you stands a massive wooden and metal door, easily three times taller than you and Celia. You pull her forward, so close to your destination, when you hear a loud crack above you. You glance up to see one of the wooden beams from the roof come loose and plummet towards you. You shove Celia back and fall to the ground, slamming your not quite healed head on the concrete floor. You see stars. For a second you feel the blackness of unconsciousness pull you down, but you fight it and force your eyes open. Your vision remains blurry but you can once again see the burning room around you. You crawl on your hands and knees to where Celia has fallen.

You pull yourself up next to her and look at the now inaccessible exit. The massive, smoldering beam has landed right in front of the large doors, making it impossible to pull them open and escape the inferno. You pull Celia’s head onto your lap and sit her up a bit, to ease her breathing.

She lays on the ground, your cloak having come unwrapped. Her face is dirty from the ash and smoke except for where her tears have left thin tracks. Her eyes are swollen and puffy and her hands and feet are raw with blisters. Her lips are cracked and labored breaths barely push through them.

She takes one of your hands in her blistered ones. “I’m dying, aren’t I?” she rasps.

Tears prick your eyes and you look up at the flaming ceiling to allow you moment to compose yourself. You look back down at her blackened face, “Yes.”

She closes her eyes and nods in acceptance. A wry smile appears on her face. “I was going to leave tomorrow. I was going to go after Morgana and tell her that I loved her.”

This time you don’t fight the tears that spill over. “Celia, I’m so sorry.”

Celia shushes you softly. “It’s okay, (Y/N). There’s nothing more you could’ve done.” You open your mouth to argue with her, but a cough wracks her body. Once the cough subsides, she continues, “I want to thank you, (Y/N), for showing me that it’s okay to choose love. I hope you’ll do the same.” Another bout of coughing has the tears streaming down her cheeks anew. “Will you tell her?” she asks, “Will you tell Morgana that I was going to find her? Will you tell her that I love her?”

“Of course. Of course, I will,” you promise her. She gives you one last dreamy smile before closing her eyes. She lets out one last ragged exhale and is still. You press your palm to her chest, but can no longer feel her heartbeat. You cradle her in your arms and press your forehead to hers as you sob.

You cry for Celia and all the things she never got to do. You cry for Morgana who is going to be heartbroken when she learns the truth. And you cry for yourself, for having been unable to save yet another person you cared about.

You aren’t able to grieve long, because another large chunk of the ceiling slams into the ground a mere foot away from you. You look up and realize that the fire has eaten away at all the major wooden infrastructure of the entryway and the entire thing is dangerously close to coming down on top of your head. Fire may not kill you, but being crushed by hundreds of pounds of stone will.

You wipe your eyes and look around for another possible exit. There has to be a window or another door around here somewhere. When your search is unsuccessful you decide you’ll have to go look for a side door in a different room.

You carefully lower Celia’s body to the ground. You kiss her forehead and take your cloak from her, wrapping it back around your own shoulders. You stand and look down at her for the last time. Part of you loathes leaving her to burn, but she’d want her final resting place to be here: in her home with her sisters.

Again another piece of entryway comes lose and falls next to you. You flinch and take the hint to get the hell out of there. You sprint back through the blazing courtyard and take a left, hoping to find a wall with a window. You see a couple, but both are too small for even you to fit through so you keep going.

Around you debris is falling from the ceiling at an alarming rate. Nothing has hit you so far, but eventually you won’t be so lucky.

You round the corner and come to a halt. In front of you there is a dead end, except for one door. You mentally map out your path to figure out whether or not this door could possibly be an exit, but you’ve never been much good at that. You decide to try your luck one last time and go for the door.

It’s locked, of course. You take out the wires to work on the lock, only to realize that your hands are shaking. You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself. It doesn’t help much, but you allow muscle memory to take over. It works, because the lock clicks open and you yank open the door to be greeted with a breath of fresh air. You nearly collapse in relief, but manage to stagger forward on shaky knees.

You take in your surroundings. You’re not far from the abbey’s main entrance and you can spot the road you came in on with the monk. With the adrenaline starting to fade you realize that your body is bone tired. You don’t dare stop and look back at the burning abbey, because if you do you aren’t sure you’ll be able to hold it together.

You’ve only just made it to the edge of the road when a dark figure comes thundering down the road on the back of a black beast. His cloak billows out behind him. He comes to a screeching halt mere feet from you and dismounts. In the glow of the burning abbey, you see the trademark tears of the Weeping Monk.

You stumble and he smoothly steps forward and wraps his large hands around your biceps to steady you. “You came back,” you say, breathless.

“What happened here? How did you get out of there? How are you alive?” the monk demands to know as he takes the time to run his hands brusquely over your body to search for damage. Normally you’d take the time to bask in his attention, but your brain in still stuck on the fact that he came back. Satisfied you’re in one piece, he lets go and steps back.

“You came back,” you repeat, dumbly.

The monk eyes you warily. “I said I would.”

You nod. “I know, but you came back.” You try to emphasize what you mean. You think you might be in shock.

Apparently the monk does too cause he doesn’t say anything, but instead bundles you up and lifts you onto Goliath’s back. He hauls himself up behind you and turns Goliath back the way he came, this time at a much slower pace.

At some point you must have dozed off, because the next thing you know you’re deep in the Iron Wood again and the monk is bringing Goliath to a stop. You ask him why.

“It’ll be dawn in a few hours. I thought it best we make camp until then.” You accept his help as you dismount; your feet are still a little unsteady beneath you. He ties Goliath’s reigns to a nearby branch as you go and sit on a fallen tree trunk.

You don’t say anything as the monk begins to dig a hole and line it with large stones. You watch him circle the clearing, picking up kindling. You don’t think you’ve seen anyone move with such ease and grace, even in the dark. You look away as he walks back toward you and its only minutes later before he has a sizeable fire going. He sits across from you and observes you in the orange light of the campfire.

“What happened at the abbey?” he finally asks. You’d been dreading the question, but had known it was coming. Of course he’d want to know what happened. It’s not every day an entire abbey burns down.

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I went to sleep and when I woke up I could smell the smoke. I picked the lock on my door,”—you give him a nervous glance but his expression doesn’t change—“and I went to find Celia.” The monk doesn’t say anything; instead he lets you take the time you need to relay the story back to him. When you tell him about losing Celia, you don’t even try to stop your tears. “I thought I could get her out. I thought I could save her,” you admit to him. You look up to see the monk watching you with a peculiar expression on his face, but before you can ask him what he’s thinking, it’s gone.

“I’m sorry about your friend.” The words are so quiet you almost don’t hear them. Before you can say anything back, the monk stands and goes to his saddlebags, where he retrieves food for the both of you. He holds out your portion to you, but you don’t take it.

“I’m not hungry,” you tell him.

“You have to eat something. Please.” The last part is an afterthought. Surprised by his use of the word, you accept the food and take small bites.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence. After you finish you lean back and watch as the monk takes his sword out and begins to clean it. You feel a pang at the sight and you wish for your own blades.

“I wouldn’t have killed the boy.” The monk doesn’t look up as he says this, his eyes on the cloth in his hand as it works its way up and down the blade. You hadn’t realized how sexy cleaning blood off of a sword could be.

“What?” You’re really killing it today with the clever comebacks.

“The one you call Squirrel. I wouldn’t have killed him. I don’t hurt children,” the monk says. You can’t help but scoff at this and he looks up, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“You don’t think you hurt Squirrel when you burned down our village, murdered his father, and stole his innocence by using him as bait so you could slaughter his friends in front of him? You might not kill children, Monk, but you do hurt them.” The monk narrows his eyes at you, and for a moment you fear you’ve said too much, but his expression switches to one of contemplation and he focuses back on the task at hand.

Again you two sit in silence. You think he almost might prefer it this way, but after a few minutes you can’t take it anymore. “Why did you come back?” you blurt out.

The monk shrugs. “I told you I would.”

“Yes, but why?” you press, “Did you find the witch?”

The monk’s hand stills on his blade and he scowls. “No.”

Picking up on the obvious tension in his body, you ask: “Did something happened?”

The monk only grunts in response. You wait, figuring he’ll share when he’s ready. Eventually he sighs and runs a hand over his face in frustration. “She killed half a dozen brothers today.”

“With magic?”

The monk shakes his head. “She used the sword. It seems the longer she has it, the stronger she gets.” Lenore had warned you about that. She’d also warned you that the sword corrupts those who wield it. You hope whoever this girl is she’s able to overcome whatever hold the sword has over her.

“So what now?” you ask.

“I think she’s going somewhere. A Fey sanctuary.” The monk’s eyes never leave yours, and you know he’s studying you for a reaction. You try to keep your face neutral as the he continues. “The directions are hidden in symbols in the trees and on the ground. I’ve been able to decipher some of them, but I need someone who speaks Old Fey for the rest.”

And there it was. The real reason for the monk’s timely arrival at the abbey. Perhaps even the reason he kept you alive in the first place.

“I won’t help you slaughter what is left of the Fey. Even if most of them deserve it.”

The monk cocks his head to the side. “You don’t care for your fellow fey kind?”

You chew the inside of your cheek indecisively before asking him, “Do you know why you’ve never seen a Fire Folk before?” The monk shakes his head. “It’s because the fey council had them all murdered when I was a child. Not unlike the way you and your Red Paladins have been doing to them.”

The monk seems genuinely surprised by this revelation. “How did you survive?”

“Lenore. She begged the council to spare my life. My mother wasn’t so lucky.”

The monk places his sword to the side and leans forward, blue eyes boring into your golden ones. “Would helping me not be the perfect way to avenger her?”

For a second you’d been lured in by the sincerity in his eyes, but his words make your blood run cold. “I will not tarnish her memory by helping you wipe the fey in her name.”

“Even if refusing might cost you your life?” The monk’s words are eerily quiet. There it is. The moment you’ve been waiting for. The one where he finally starts treating you like the prisoner you are.

“Even if,” you say.

“Why? Why are you willing to die for those who wouldn’t do the same for you?”

“I could ask you the same,” you taunt. The monk doesn’t take the bait and you sigh. “Because there are dozens of children living there. You say you don’t hurt children? Well, if I take you there then I assure you nothing will stop brothers from slaughtering every last one of them.”

“I will not ask you to help me to find the sanctuary. But I also won’t stop searching for it,” the monk warns. You nod and the tension dissipates.

You ask the monk the question that’s been on your mind since you first saw the lock on the sisters’ sleeping chamber door. “Was if you? The fire at the abbey. Was it the Red Paladins?”

The monk had been staring at the stars in the sky above you, but when you started talking he’d locked his gaze back on you. You can’t help but feel guilty somehow. Like you’re accusing him of something. Which is silly considering how many fey he’s killed, seemingly without remorse.

“How do you know the fire was set on purpose?” he asks.

“It’s just... I know Father Carden had the abbess taken away for helping the witch. And there was a lock... on the door... which is why the sisters couldn’t get out... and there’s no way the fire spread that quickly. Someone must’ve set multiple fires all over the abbey. And I just thought... did he do this? To punish them?” Shit, you’re rambling. You can’t help it when he’s staring at you like that.

The monk seems to be amused by how flustered you’ve become and his gaze softens. “No. We didn’t do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Father Carden doesn’t do anything without a reason. And this.... what reason could he possibly have for this?”

“Okay.... You’re right.... I just... If it wasn’t you guys, then who? Who would want a bunch of nuns dead? It doesn’t make sense.”

“At first I thought it was you.”

“Me?”

“Who burned down the abbey, but then I saw how upset you were and I knew I was mistaken.”

“Why did you think it was me?”

“Because you managed to walk out of a burning building while everyone else inside died. The smoke alone should have killed you. But then it came to me: you’re immune to fire.” You tense at his words. “I’m right, aren’t I?” You nod, warily. “Do the other fey know?” he asks.

“Some. The older ones, who were alive before the Fire Fey were massacred, though I suspect many of them have forgotten. I don’t make it a habit of showing off that particular talent.”

The monk hums in acknowledgment. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, “Your secret’s safe with me.” He gives you a conspiratorial (and uncharacteristic) grin before going back to cleaning his sword.

You stare into the campfire in front of you. The flames dance in a hypnotic pattern, one you are familiar with. One you used to find comfort in. But now you can’t help but picture Celia’s terrified face as the flames around you came closer. You glare down at your hands in despair, blinking back tears as the sound of the women’s screams echo through your mind.

The monk must sense your distress because he leaves his spot on the other side of the fire to approach you. He crouches in front of you, forcing you to look at him. “You blame yourself.” It’s not a question. The monk continues, “You can’t save everyone.” You open your mouth to protest but he silences you with a look.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But still, you hate to admit it. And you sure as hell aren’t going to do it out loud. Instead you settle for a nod. The small gesture brings your faces closer together. The monk glances down at your lips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he says, “You should get some rest.”

You fight back a groan of frustration as he pulls away from you and returns to his spot on the other side of the fire. Nonetheless, you obey and make a place to sleep near fire while the monk does the same. It doesn’t take you long to realize that you’re not going to be able to sleep. Every time you close your eyes you see Celia’s face. You let out a soft sigh and stare at the stars overhead. You try to keep your breathing even and steady, to make the monk think you’re asleep. It doesn’t work.

“I can hear you thinking,” the monk’s voice cuts through the darkness.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you retort.

The monk ignores you. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I can’t,” you say, softly, “When I close my eyes I see… her.” Normally you wouldn’t be so vulnerable, but somehow you know the monk won’t judge.

At first you think he isn’t going to say anything or that he’s fallen asleep but there is a sudden flurry of movement to your right as he stands and begins to gather his belongings.

You sit up. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” the monk says, “but if you can’t sleep then there’s no sense in staying here until dawn.”

“Scared I’ll kill you in your sleep?” you tease.

The monk helps you into Goliath’s saddle and hands you the reigns as he goes to put out the fire. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to be alone with your thoughts all night,” he says, his back to you.

You can’t say anything, overwhelmed by the tenderness you feel in your heart towards this man who should terrify you. Instead, you offer your hand to him when he returns. He accepts the offer and together you pull him up and into the saddle behind you. He settles in and wraps his arms around you to take the reigns.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod and the monk digs his heels into Goliath’s sides, sending you galloping through the forest once more. ____

And there it is! Let me know what you think in the comments!

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