#they still need to get into the prince and shield thing that was definitely mentioned in front of regis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

Text

5 times Merlin noticed Arthur’s odd reactions to things,

+1 time he could start on the road to helping.

TW: Graphic descriptions of child abuse, claustrophobia, panic attacks/flashbacks/disassociating.

Merlin notices things. He always has done, ever since he was a child. Maybe it was the magic, maybe it was the ingrained fear of being snuck up on (as a Bastard child, as a citizen of Essetir, and as someone with magic) or maybe it was just some odd, innate skill. It doesn’t really matter: Merlin is observant, he has keen eyes, which is why he notices Arthur’s sudden change in disposition.

It was a normal afternoon, Arthur and Merlin had just gotten back from the first hunt of the spring and were filling The King in on how it had gone. Well... Arthur was, Merlin was just sort of stood there.

The servant was annoyed that Arthur had dragged him along, both to the hunt and to the meeting, but The Prince had been so excited (not that he showed it too much) at the prospect of telling his father how well everything went, he conceded easily. It was rare that Arthur got his father’s approval; Merlin had only been serving him for a few months, so maybe it was stupid of him to want to see Arthur happy, but oh well. He may be a prat, but he meant well and he loved his people, he deserved a little happiness occasionally.

Uther was in fact proud, and Merlin had better luck than Arthur at holding his grin in, though that changed quickly.

Arthur was looking out of the window and making casual comments on when he planned on going out next, and Uther, stepping quietly without even realising it, manages to move to the space just behind him without Arthur noticing. He claps a firm, but proud hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and if Merlin hadn’t known that Arthur would deny it later, he would accuse him of jumping a foot in the air. He turns around quickly, eyes wide and barely focusing as Uther gives his son another congratulations, as well as a terse “Make sure you keep it up.”

The sudden tightness in Arthur’s shoulders and his clear discomfort at having Uther so close do not go unnoticed by Merlin and he frowns, making a split second decision that could very well get him put in the stocks:

“Sorry to interrupt, My Lords, but The Prince mentioned wanting to join the evening patrol. Sir Leon and his partner will be leaving shortly.”

Uther whips his head around disapprovingly, and his anger at Merlin for interrupting whatever it was he was about to say translates to a tightened grip on Arthur’s shoulder. The Prince flinches slightly, but carefully steps away from The King, speaking before he can order the servant punished:

“Right you are, Merlin. If you’re happy for me to take my leave, father?”

Uther looks back to his son, confused, but approving of Arthur’s sudden eagerness to join extra patrols:

“Very well. I expect you to keep up the hard work, Arthur, I shall be disappointed if you start slacking again.”

Arthur nods and bows, but doesn’t say anything, his jittery demeanour getting worse with The King’s vaguely threatening tone. He walks stiffly from the room, and Merlin follows with a confused frown, making sure to keep his distance and step loudly on the stone floor; apparently Arthur was feeling jumpy today.

Arthur, still in his armour, leads them down to the courtyard where Sir Leon and another knight were indeed preparing to leave. The Prince doesn’t say anything to Merlin, simply nods in his direction before joining the others, and Merlin thinks he must have done the right thing if Arthur wasn’t shouting at him for giving him extra work that he hadn’t intended to do.

He stores this new, odd information in his mind for future reference, reminding himself to stay away from The Prince’s back and warn him of anyone approaching.

The next thing Merlin notices doesn’t come from a specific incident, more from a series of odd happenings over time.

When Arthur had been released from the dungeons after Merlin’s miraculous survival from being poisoned, he was a mess. At the time, Merlin had smugly suggested that it was because Arthur was worried about him; his hair was similar to a bird’s nest, as if The Prince had been running his hands through it and pulling it on a near constant basis, and the shirt he was wearing frankly stunk of sweat.

Arthur had rolled his eyes at that and slunk off to sulk in his chambers—once Gaius had assured him Merlin would be fine—and the young servant had taken that as confirmation.

The first time Merlin actually witnesses Arthur’s quick, shallow breath and wide panicked eyes, they’re rushing through the narrow servant corridors. The Prince’s grip on his sword looks uncomfortably tight and the sweat on his brow seems a little odd: they weren’t running that fast. Merlin figures that Arthur is just stressed out from trying to catch the sneaky arsehole assassin who was trying to do in as many councilmen as he could before getting away.

Which is an understandable thing to be stressed about.

Merlin only takes actual note of it when, after the assassin had gotten away, The King had demanded Arthur retrace his footsteps back through the castle to see if the criminal had dropped anything or hidden anywhere. Arthur practically freezes up at that, his wide eyes and pale skin making Merlin frown in confusion, only for his frown to deepen when Arthur stutters through his suggestion of having another knight lead the internal search whilst Arthur heads out into the city.

The relief on Arthur’s face when Uther agrees is, though brief and immediately hidden, immense.

Merlin thinks back on the state Arthur had been in after he’d quested for Merlin’s cure. Perhaps... perhaps Arthur had been such a mess because he had spent a night in the dungeons, and not because he had been worried about Merlin.

As much as Arthur might like to think Merlin’s an idiot, the servant makes quick connections, pieces things together easily, like a children’s puzzle. At least when it comes to Arthur.

The servant is also reminded of the way Arthur insists that Merlin leave a few candles lit in the evening. At first, Merlin thought it was because Arthur was sneaking out of bed to get more paperwork done (Uther may rarely see it, but Arthur works ridiculously hard), but he checked the paperwork one morning and nothing had been added or altered. Then he though that it was maybe so Arthur could see any attackers coming in the night, because he was paranoid like that, but the candles always burnt out after a couple hours anyway, so it wasn’t like they were lasting through the night.

Merlin figures he was probably just reading into things too much (plus, he knows that accusing Arthur of being afraid of the dark or tight spaces would get him nothing but a slap up the head and, depending on The Prince’s mood, a visit to the stocks), though Arthur refusing to stay in Merlin’s tiny bedroom for any longer than necessary, and insisting on multiple torches being lit whenever they ventured into caves, forces Merlin to reconsider.

It was after one such adventure in one such cave that Merlin took advantage of the castle’s funds being available to him, and heads down to the market to buy some larger candles (and if he cast a spell to make them last longer... well... no one needed to know). Arthur gives him an odd look when he walks into The Prince’s chambers that evening and begins setting up and lighting them without acknowledgement; Merlin answers his questioning hum without looking at him:

“I know you like to be able to see just in case attackers make it into your chambers: these ones should last all the way until the morning. I set up a standing order with a merchant in the lower town.”

Arthur frowns confusedly, knowing that no one had managed to sneak into his chambers in months; it was definitely odd that Merlin had suddenly decided that this was a good idea. Still, Merlin doesn’t look back at him as he casually moves around the room, lighting the new candles and hoping that Arthur wouldn’t notice him leaving the curtains open by about an inch. He notices, though he doesn’t mention it in his response:

“Hmm. It seems you’re finally putting that brain of yours to use, Merlin.”

Merlin finally turns to look at him, glaring half-heartedly as he sarcastically laughs. Arthur just grins at him, glancing at the strip of moonlight on the floor for only a moment before climbing into his bed, muttering for Merlin to go ahead and get an early night.

From then on, Merlin packs extra torches in his pack when they go adventuring, and if he has room, a candle, in case they end up in an inn. If Arthur notices any of that, or the fact that Merlin always opens the window whenever they’re in the tiny Physician’s chambers for more than five minutes and always keeps him company on the now-rare nights Uther is angry enough to lock Arthur in the dungeons... well... neither of them point it out.

The next odd reaction doesn’t happen until years later.

Of course Merlin keeps noticing Arthur’s aversion to surprise touch (especially from knights and his father) and general dislike of the dark/closed spaces, but dealing with it and adjusting to make things easier just sort of becomes part of their routine, without either of them really realising.

Arthur has been King for a few weeks when it happens. It's warm, too warm for armour, so the roundtable knights are practicing their hand to hand instead of using swords and shields. Arthur usually sits out for these lessons, teaching and observing from the side-lines as opposed to taking part in spars. Merlin had always thought it was odd, but the one and only time he had brought it up, years ago, Arthur had forced him to join in on the lessons. He had a lot of bruises that day.

But today was not a usual day apparently; Arthur joined in. He seemed reluctant at first, like he was unsure if he actually wanted to, but his first weeks as King had been going well and he’d had a successful meeting with some of his Lords the previous day, so he’s in a good mood. He finally caves when Lancelot offers to spar with him; there was something about the gentle man that just makes everyone in his vicinity feel a little more at ease.

The sun was shining, but heavy rain the previous week means the grass was bright and soft; all in all, it was a lovely day, but Merlin’s focus was still on Arthur and the way he and Lance dance around each other. All the knights were holding their strength back a little, the purpose of sparring is rarely to go all out, but practicing form and technique and footwork is always a good idea.

Arthur falls into the rhythm of the spar, dodging and side-stepping and blocking with ease, neither he nor Lance were eager to speed things up in the heat. He was moving automatically, running on instincts and just a little bit of adrenaline, which is probably why he freezes up when confronted with something so terrifyingly familiar.

A glint of sunlight off something metallic caches his eye, and his gaze moves away from the fight for barely a split-second, but when he looks back all he can see is shortly cropped brown hair, a bright red tunic, and a fist swinging for his face.

Lancelot yelps when Arthur doesn’t block like he had expected him to, and Merlin is sprinting over before The King’s head has even finished rocking to the side. The other knights go to crowd closer, worried for their leader, but Merlin waves them off harshly and they keep their distance, trusting him. Lancelot looks horrified, but dutifully steps back as Merlin puts one hand on Arthur’s shoulder and uses the other to tilt his chin from side to side.

Merlin’s frown deepens when Arthur just lets himself be manhandled. Even in his worst injuries he was reluctant to let people check him over; Merlin quickly notices his wide eyes staring vacantly and the breathing that was far deeper than it really should be. He tries to get The King to look at him as he speaks lowly, so the others can’t hear him:

“Arthur? You with me?”

Arthur gulps, blinking rapidly and meeting his gaze, though Merlin can tell that he still isn’t really seeing:

“I... I’m sorry, I... I didn’t mean... I wasn’t...”

Merlin can only just hear Arthur’s whispers, and he’s grateful for the fact that the others definitely can’t hear them. He moves the hand on Arthur’s shoulder down to grip the other man’s hand and squeezes, and uses the other to shield his eyes from the sun as he mutters:

“Arthur, it’s Merlin, you’re out on the training field with members of the Roundtable, it’s late Spring, and you were crowned King three weeks ago. Arthur?”

It’s only then that Arthur’s eyes come into focus.

Merlin has never been grateful to have the bones in his hands almost break, and he doubts he’ll ever be grateful for it again. Merlin’s squeezes back, digging his nails in just a little as a subtle “please don’t break my hand”. Arthur loosens his grip and Merlin raises his eyebrow slightly in question; the blonde groans slightly and lifts a shaking hand to rub his eyes:

“What happened?”

Merlin glances at the huddle of knights behind him and gives them a reassuring smile before he looks back to Arthur, speaking so everyone can hear:

“You took quite the well placed hit from Lance, got a mild concussion and lost yourself for a minute. You’ll probably be fine by this evening, but I want to get you in the shade just in case, ok?”

Arthur seems surprised at the explanation, but nods wordlessly, letting Merlin guide him up towards the castle without a fuss. That just worries Merlin more, and he speeds up slightly as he yells over his shoulder:

“Leon’s in charge!”

Leon just chuckles, knowing that Merlin wouldn’t be paying them the slightest bit of attention if Arthur was even close to being seriously injured, but Gwaine just tilts his head and frowns:

“I love the guy but since when does Merlin decide who’s in charge? If he had said Elyan was in charge would we have just... gone with it?”

Leon shoves him playfully and tells him to get back to work, giving Lancelot a comforting pat on the shoulder as they all look away from the servant-King duo.

Merlin doesn’t take Arthur to the physician’s chambers, but goes to The King’s bedchamber instead; Arthur wasn’t actually concussed, but his mind had been elsewhere for a moment, so much so that he hadn’t recognised Merlin and spoke to him as if he were someone else. He sits The King down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of him, hands on his knees as he frowns:

“Arthur? Still with me, or gone again?”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath, making eye contact with Merlin again as he straightens his back and answers confidently, his voice wavering only slightly:

“Yeah, yes, I’m with you. Sorry, lost in thought. I don’t feel concussed, are you sure?”

Merlin nods and stands up, leaving Arthur on the bed as he moves to open the window and get him a goblet of water:

“Hmm, I lied, I don’t think you are either, you weren’t hit that hard to be honest, but you weren’t really... with it, thought it best to get you away from the others.-”

He turns around the see Arthur tense and angry-looking, though Merlin gets the distinct impression that it’s not aimed at him:

“-You probably just got dazed by the hit, that and you’re overtired, you’ve been staying up late the last few nights. Drink this, maybe have a nap, or at least stay out of the sunlight for a few hours, you’ll definitely be getting a headache at some point soon and I don’t want you to make it worse.”

He hands over the goblet of water, holding it slightly out of Arthur’s reach so the other man has to stand for it. He manages to stand on his own two feet with no issue, and the shaking in his hands is lesser than it was before, though not gone entirely, so Merlin makes a mental list of all the chores that he could finish here, in Arthur’s presence. The King drinks the water absent-mindedly, leaving the goblet on the side table as he mutters:

“Overtired... yeah, probably.”

He wanders towards his desk, collapsing in the seat and staring half-heartedly at the paperwork spread all over the place. Merlin relaxes slightly, deciding that maybe there was a reason Arthur never joined in on hand-to-hand.

Merlin wasn’t fond of Arthur’s current visitor, Lord Algere, but he was pleased to note that Arthur didn’t seem all that fond of him either. He was an old supporter of Uther’s, which meant the occasional snide remark about how Uther would’ve handled certain situations differently, followed by deferential admissions of being “a close friend and advisor to the former King.”.

He was just friendly and kiss-ass enough that he couldn’t be kicked from court, that Arthur still had to be polite to him, but he rubbed pretty much everyone up the wrong way and Merlin couldn’t wait until he left to go back to his estate, thankfully situated on the furthest edge of the Kingdom.

It's the day before he’s due to leave when he says it:

“You remind me of your father a great deal, you know, you’re very similar.”

Arthur freezes up at the so-called compliment, but recovers quickly, giving the Lord a tight smile before excusing himself so he wouldn’t be late for the city border patrol he was undertaking. Normally Merlin didn’t go with him on these patrols, he’d only be gone for a couple hours at most and he was joined by a partner; it gave Merlin time to finish up some chores, but the servant felt the need to be there today.

The King is silent the entire time, which is unusual considering he's riding alongside Sir Leon today, and those two always have something official to talk about. He doesn’t even spare Merlin an annoyed glance when the servant drops his bag and has to dismount to pick it up, only halts and waits for him to catch up again. Though he's sure The King had relaxed slightly at the beginning of the patrol, when Merlin mentioned that he fancied tagging along, and if Merlin weren’t so worried he’d be immensely proud at his apparent ability to put Arthur at ease.

Leon gives Merlin a worried grimace as they ride back into the citadel, but Merlin shakes his head and smiles, his meaning of “I’ll deal with it, I’m sure he’s fine” obvious in the action. The two of them have gotten quite good at silently communicating over the years, God forbid Arthur find out that they were trying to look after him.

They made the journey up to Arthur’s chambers in continued silence, though Merlin really starts to really worry when Arthur just wanders over to the window and stares down into the courtyard. He only does that when he’s feeling particularly pensive. Merlin lays out the work he knows Arthur had wanted to get done this afternoon and perches on the edge of the desk, facing Arthur’s back with his arms crossed:

“Arthur, you alright? You’ve been quiet.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t turn away from the window, staying silent. Merlin purses his lips, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out what he thinks might be wrong. He moves across the room and sits himself down at the dining table, casually starting on the polishing he had left there earlier as he speaks, trying to keep his tone as neutral and absent-minded as possible:

“I’ve no clue what Algere was talking about earlier, he either knows nothing about you, or didn’t know your father nearly as much as he says he did.”

Arthur finally turns from the window, fixing a curious frown on Merlin, who forces himself to keep his gaze down:

“What makes you say that?”

Merlin still doesn’t look up, but knows that he’s on the right track. Arthur has been able to admit, especially recently with his changing opinions on magic, that his father was not a good man, though he still struggles to admit that he wasn’t a good father:

“Well, from what I’ve seen, you look way more like your mother than you do Uther, and you don’t act like him at all, you haven’t picked up on any of his mannerisms or anything.-”

The servant finally looks up at Arthur, his words true but his nonchalance false as he continues with a confused frown:

“-To be honest, I’ve always thought you act more like an odd mix of Leon and Morgana. You’ve definitely got Leon’s sense of chivalry and respect and his knightly traits, but your... how do I say... fiery attitude when it comes to your sense of right and wrong, that’s definitely Morgana. Uther was quick to anger, you’ve got fairly good control of your anger nowadays. Uther was set in his ways and refused to change no matter the consequences, you bend traditions all the time, improve things in ways that Uther would never have dreamed of doing.-”

The servant shrugs and looks back down to his polishing:

“-I just don’t see the similarities, and I certainly know you better than Algere. I’ve a feeling I knew Uther better than Algere as well.”

Arthur hums non-committedly, but sits down at his desk instead of turning back to the window. Merlin feels the tension leave his shoulders, but doesn’t relax fully when he notices Arthur staring at his folded hands instead of working. Apparently it had only partially worked:

“Arthur?”

He doesn’t look up, just shuffles slightly in his eat as he lowly answers:

“Do you think I might... turn out like him? In the end? People say he was kind and gentle when he was young. If... if I ever have children...”

The question goes unasked, but the fear in his voice is palpable, and Merlin has to stop himself from sprinting from the room to burn every painting of Uther he can find. Instead, he puts the armour down on the table softly and stands, making sure to step loudly and clear his throat as he leans against the edge of Arthur’s desk again:

“Arthur, you’re a wonderful King, a wonderful knight, a wonderful man, and I guarantee that one day you’ll be a wonderful father. Don’t stress, you’ve out done your father in every other aspect of your life, I’m sure you’ll continue to do so.”

Arthur looks up at Merlin with a slight frown on his face, though it’s more thoughtful than anything. Merlin holds his gaze with a soft smile for a few moments, content to wait for Arthur to give him some sort of cue; Arthur just rolls his eyes and shoves him from the table, picking up a quill and finally beginning to actually work:

“Try not to insult the former King too much in one sitting, Merlin. And that armour won’t polish itself.”

Merlin just laughs quietly and moves back to the table, understanding and accepting that that was probably the best he was going to get. He makes a mental note to mention Arthur’s similarities to Leon next time the three of them are together; Arthur will be relieved, though he won’t show it, and Leon will be flattered beyond words.

He dares not do it with Morgana. Both of them would be secretly be pleased, though they’d kick up one hell of a fuss trying to deny it.

Thankfully, the two of them are in Arthur’s chambers when it happens.

Merlin’s not entirely sure he could use the “concussion” excuse like he did last time, not with the length of time it lasted.

It’s late, the curtains are drawn—with the traditional inch wide gap allowing a strip of moonlight to fall across the floor and over Arthur’s bed—and Arthur’s special candles have been lit. He’d been made aware of the spell Merlin had cast on them a few months ago, and though he was annoyed that Merlin had put himself at such risk, he hadn’t asked him to remove the spell, which the servant took as a good sign (both that Arthur wasn’t too mad about the magic, and that it had been a good idea).

The King sits at his desk, doing his normal pile of evening paperwork and trying to fit in as much as he can before Merlin snatches it away and manhandles him into bed, Merlin who is generally pottering around the room tidying. Arthur thinks of it more as just... moving the mess around, but he let’s him be; Merlin’s quiet company is much appreciated, especially with all the difficulties Arthur is having with repealing the ban on magic.

The King lets out a deep sigh, sitting back in his chair and tiredly rubbing his eyes. Merlin notices, because of course he does, and wanders over, a concerned frown on his face as he sits in the chair opposite him:

“You alright? Hit a snag?”

Arthur hums but shakes his head, opening his eyes but staying slumped in his seat; Merlin makes plans to get him to bed at some point in the next half candle mark at least:

“Hmm. No, just tired. This whole thing is draining, I wish I could just force them to see sense.”

Merlin knew that the them Arthur speaks of is the council. Currently, The King has about half of them on side, not including Leon, Morgana, and Gaius, but they need a majority by a significant margin before they can move forward, and Arthur refuses to act in any way that isn’t democratic.

Merlin nods, smiling softly at his lap as Arthur closes his eyes again:

“This is what it means to be King, Arthur,-”

At first, Merlin doesn’t notice the way Arthur’s eyes fly open, nor the way he slowly sits up straight, nor the way his shoulders tighten and his skin grows pale and his eyes go vacant.

“-but I think you’re doing great, don’t be too hard on... Arthur? Are you alright?”

Merlin frowns when he finally looks up to see The King sitting ramrod straight and staring into the middle distance, his breathing ragged and his blue eyes glassy and unseeing. He stands slowly, moving around to Arthur’s side to crouch there and wave a hand in front of his face.

He doesn’t react.

Merlin shakes his shoulder slightly, hesitating only momentarily before touching him, but even then, Arthur doesn’t respond. The servant gulps, glancing over his shoulder at the door to make sure it was locked before touching a hand to Arthur’s forehead and muttering a spell; he normally uses this spell to wake up unconscious people, but it has no effect on The King other than sending a slight shiver through his body.

Merlin calls his name a few times, but it expectedly has no effect. He tries to test Arthur’s pain awareness by pinching the underside of his arm, and whilst he flinches away slightly, he doesn’t come to, still stares blankly at the opposite wall. Merlin thinks of calling for the guards and asking for Gaius, but somehow he doesn’t think the elderly physician will be able to help; there was no magic at play here, and he certainly hadn’t been poisoned. In all honestly he just looked a little zoned out, like the time Merlin had lied about the concussion, except it was clearly lasting longer this time.

Merlin frowns but tries his best to keep the panic at bay, it had only been a few minutes now, but other than breathing Arthur hadn’t moved an inch.

The servant takes a deep, relaxing breath, or at least what he hoped would be a relaxing breath. It’s not. He uses magic to slide Arthur’s chair away from the desk slightly, and moves into the space it leaves, shuffling all of the paperwork away and leaning on the edge. Once again, he puts one hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and takes his hand with the other, squeezing slightly.

He waits.

After another ten minutes or so, Arthur’s breathing gets slightly more frantic, and he begins squeezing Merlin’s hand back. Merlin moves closer, crouching in between Arthur’s legs and shaking his shoulder again, but he stops when Arthur begins muttering:

“Didn’t... I... I’m sorry. Not my.... didn’t... didn’t mean to... sorry... disappointment...”

Merlin’s frown deepens at the barely audible whispers, especially when he notices the tears gathering in Arthur’s eyes. He shakes his shoulder again and forces himself to speak, just about managing to keep the waiver from his voice:

“Arthur, there’s no one else here, it’s just you and me, it’s just us, just Arthur and Merlin. It’s the evening in late Autumn, it’s almost time for bed, you sparred with Percival this morning and had a long, annoying council meeting this afternoon. You’re sat at your desk in your chambers with me, no one else.”

Arthur’s eyes come into focus, slowly at first and then all at once. He blinks and stands suddenly, almost tipping his chair backwards in his haste as he reaches a hand to his sword-less hip. Merlin moves back quickly, grimacing as he bumps harshly into the desk. Arthur’s gaze whips around the room desperately, as if searching for a danger that he was certain was there, before his eyes finally land on Merlin. The servant holds his hands out placatingly, not relaxing even as Arthur takes a deep breath and seems to calm down.

The King slumps back in his seat, rubbing the tears from his eyes with shaking hands; Merlin crouches down again, but doesn’t dare touch him, not quite yet:

“Arthur?”

His head whips up, but he relaxes again when he sees Merlin sat in front of him:

“Yes, sorry, I... must of dozed off or something.”

Merlin frowns, but nods one, speaking slowly, his tone low and even:

“Hmm. Must’ve, you looked like you were having a nightmare or something so I woke you. Time for bed, I think.”

For once, Arthur actually agrees with him, not bothering to argue like normal as he stands on shaking legs and heads to where Merlin has neatly laid his sleeping clothes on the bed. Merlin’s concerned gaze follows him, but he doesn’t move too far from the desk, deciding that he and Gaius definitely need to have a chat about... whatever the hell that was.

Half a candle mark later, Arthur is quietly wishing his manservant a good night and dismissing him. He was obviously distracted, Merlin normally can’t be frowning for more than thirty seconds before The King is hounding him about what’s wrong, but thirty minutes pass with not a question from Arthur, and Merlin makes his way to the Physician’s Chambers hoping that Gaius is still awake.

Thankfully, the elderly physician is still pottering around, tidying away various bits and pieces and generally preparing the room for a new day tomorrow. He immediately notices Merlin’s peculiar mood and gestures for the younger man to sit opposite him at the table:

“What’s bothering you, my boy?”

Merlin sits slowly, biting his lip and trying to decide just how honest to be:

“What does it mean if someone... zones out, completely, for extended periods of time?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow:

“I’m going to need a little more than that, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs but nods, shuffling in his seat slightly but responding:

“I was with someone earlier today. We were just chatting whilst we worked and suddenly they just... weren’t there anymore. Stiff, eyes glazed over, ragged breathing. They responded slightly to pain but it didn’t snap them out of it and they just... sat there, utterly blankly, for about twenty minutes. Eventually they started muttering to themselves, but it didn’t make any sense, then they... woke up, I guess, and thought they had fallen asleep. They definitely weren’t asleep, but they weren’t... I don’t know, conscious?”

Gaius frowns but nods, clutching his hands tightly on the table as he explains, his voice grave:

“Hmm. Sounds like an extended disassociation episode. I gather that I’m not to be told who this was?-”

Merlin shakes his head slightly, and though he looks slightly annoyed, Gaius nods and continues:

“-This happens mostly to people who experience something extremely traumatic, though it also happens in victims of extended abuse, especially if the abuse was in childhood, the younger the victim, the worse the reaction. Occasionally it can happen randomly, though it’s mostly triggered by something in their surrounding environment.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, and Gaius would easily hazard a guess at saying he looks angry. He doesn’t point it out though, just waits for his ward to continue:

“What can trigger it? And what other symptoms will child abuse victims display?”

Gaius takes another deep breath, but slowly responds:

“Anything can be a trigger really, something they see or smell or hear, something someone else does or says.-”

(”This is what it means to be King, Arthur,-” pops into Merlin’s head.)

“-As for other symptoms, aversion to touch, occasionally fear of being alone, OR fear of being in another’s presence. Some experience trouble with regulating strong emotions, difficulty in regulating long term relationships, platonic or otherwise, trouble with self-esteem. It varies from person to person, there is no strict list of obvious signs. Might I ask... why?”

Merlin shakes his head and stands, moving towards his bedroom with clenched hands and tight shoulders. Just before he shuts the door behind him, he turns to look at Gaius over his shoulder, brow furrowed and voice low:

“What... what was Uther like? When Arthur was a child?”

Gaius closes his eyes briefly, letting out a weary sigh and trying his best to hold in his grief:

“Strict, extremely difficult to please. He never... he never hit Arthur, not in public anyway, though it wouldn’t surprise me if he was violent privately. As a child, The Prince was terrified of the dark, and the dungeons. I got the impression that Uther forced him down there on more than one occasion. Arthur is... the one your concerned about?”

Gaius knows the answer, but it doesn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes when Merlin wordlessly nods before shutting the door behind him.

+1)

A few weeks have passed since Merlin had figured it all out.

He didn’t dare bring it up to Arthur, and shuts the conversation down any time Gaius mentions it. The conversation is for Arthur, and Arthur only, and Merlin wasn’t going to force it.

Besides, they’ve been extremely busy with the transitions; The Kingdom was going from anti-magic to pro-magic, and Merlin was going from servant to a member of court. Arthur had tried to force nobility onto him as well as his position as Court Sorcerer, but Merlin had put his foot down at that, insisting that he wouldn’t become some stuck up wealthy arsehole, not even if his life was on the line.

Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, Gwen, and Morgana had grinned at that, Arthur and Lancelot rolled their eyes, Mordred continued to insist on calling him “My Lord” anyway, and Leon had looked marginally affronted as he mumbled something along the lines of “I’m a Lord you know, technically.”.

They aren’t lucky this time around, and it all comes to an explosive head in a quiet, though still habited corridor in the middle of the afternoon.

Afterwards, Merlin absent-mindedly considers the fact that they could’ve been in the courtyard or the throne room or somewhere equally busy, and thanks the Gods for just this little bit of luck; only two servants, one guard, and the... the noble and his son were in the corridor at the time.

Arthur and Merlin are making their way to the council room, preparing themselves for a busy meeting: it was the first since magic was officially legalised, and the first that Merlin (and Gwen, though that was another matter entirely) would officially be sitting in on. Though, in all honesty, pretty much the whole Kingdom knew that Merlin had been advising Arthur privately for years.

Merlin frowns and Arthur stiffens slightly as they spot the noble gripping his young son’s collar and aggressively whispering at him. The boy can’t be more than ten summers old, but the tears in his eyes display his utter terror clearly enough; no child should ever have to be that scared, especially not of their parents. Merlin resigns himself to just magicking the pig’s trousers down when no one was looking his way, but barely a second after he makes that decision the man raises his hand, and slaps the boy across the face.

Everyone in the corridor freezes as the boy cries out, and the noble doesn’t seem to notice the way the guard looks frantically between him and The King, waiting for instruction, or the way the servants and Merlin were staring, horrified. Arthur breaks out of his shocked stupor first, striding towards him with his fist already raised and his eyes blazing:

“How fucking DARE you?!”

His knuckles make violent contact with the man’s mouth, and the spray of blood from a busted lip and loosened teeth is what spurs Merlin into action. He runs forward, scooping the distraught boy up in his arms and quickly handing him over to one of the servants:

“Take him to Gaius, swear that you will not utter a word of this to anyone bar the Court Physician?”

His eyes flash golden as the servants’ both nod, and they rush off in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. Merlin, satisfied that they will be unable to break their promise, turns next to the guard, momentarily ignoring the way Arthur has shoved the bleeding noble against the stone wall:

“Fetch the Lady Morgana and Guinevere and tell them to go to Gaius and the boy, stay with them, swear that you will inform no one bar those three what has happened?”

The guard nods, understanding the magic implicitly as Merlin’s eyes flash gold again. He spares The King and his deserving victim one last glance before running towards Morgana’s chambers.

Merlin turns, finally, to Arthur, almost-but-not-quite recoiling at the tears on his cheeks as he lands another punch to the noble’s jaw. His face is black and blue at this point, and Merlin pulls Arthur back just as he raises his fist again; he thrashes in his grip, but quickly sags as his breathing deepens. The noble falls to the floor, unconscious in all likelihood, and Merlin clicks his fingers, banishing him to the dungeons with nothing but a shower of golden sparks.

Arthur breathes deeply, leaning all of his weight on Merlin as he clamps his un-bruised hand over his mouth, his wide eyes staring intensely at where the boy had been stood moments before. He doesn’t respond to Merlin’s calls, and with another flash of gold, they disappear, reappearing in Arthur’s bed chamber.

Merlin shoots Mordred a quick message over their mental link as he lowers Arthur to the floor, leaning him against the edge of the bed and moving around to be crouched in front of him. The King’s breathing has gotten dangerously deep and dangerously fast, the tears streaming down his face as his hands clench and unclench around nothing. Merlin quickly intertwines their fingers in an effort to stop Arthur hurting himself, but that just freaks the other man out even more as he desperately scrambles to get away from the contact.

Merlin lets go and moves back, eyes wide and desperate as he watches Arthur bring his knees up to his chest, burying his head in his arms and rocking slightly. His cries are muffled, but Merlin can still hear the heart wrenching sound; the Warlock takes a moment to breath before he stealthily moves around the room, lighting candles, locking the door, and shutting the curtains (bar an inch), before moving back to sit beside Arthur, a foot or so of space between them.

After a few minutes of no change, Merlin starts humming. He can’t remember any of the words, but it’s an old lullaby his mum used to sing when he couldn’t sleep, when he was scared of his own magic and his own friends and every shadow that moved in the dark. Arthur’s breathing slows, though he still hiccups occasionally, and Merlin rests his hand on the stone floor between them: an offer, not a demand.

Arthur doesn’t take it, instead shuffling over to lean his head on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin freezes, not daring to put his arm around the other man as he continues to hum; he must’ve circled back and restarted the same song six, seven, eight times before Arthur nuzzles in further and sniffs before muttering:

“You’ve a good voice, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs a gentle laugh, leaning his head on top of Arthur’s softly as he quietly replies:

“Runs in the family, my mother used to sing to me, though I don’t really know any other tunes I’m afraid.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t reply, turning into Merlin’s chest slightly as the Warlock hesitatingly wraps his arms around the other man; he stops being so hesitant when he notices Arthur’s eagerness. Merlin pulls him close, sighing but letting Arthur settle in before he says anything. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of the pain shooting up his spine at being sat on the stone floor for so long, but he decides he doesn’t really care, if this is what Arthur needs.

After a few more minutes, he rubs his cheek into Arthur’s soft hair and speaks, his voice gentle and loving:

“Feeling better?”

Arthur stiffens slightly, but quickly relaxes, nodding into Merlin’s chest and mumbling:

“The boy?”

Merlin smiles at Arthur’s worry:

“Safe. He’s with Gaius, Morgana, and Gwen, under protective guard.”

Arthur nods again, tightening his hold on Merlin’s tunic:

“And his... father?”

“Bloodied up and locked in the dungeons, far away from his son. Mordred let the guards know that he is not to leave under any circumstances, told the council that the meeting had been postponed until further notice, and then went to relieve the guard in the Physician’s chambers.”

The King relaxes, and so does Merlin, though only slightly, he knows that this is where that terrifying conversation has opportunity to rear it’s ugly head:

“Arthur, are we going to talk about this?-”

He rushes to carry on when Arthur’s breath hitches and his hands pull on Merlin’s tunic slightly:

“-You can say no, Arthur. I swear, I will never, ever ask, not if you don’t want me to.”

Arthur doesn’t relax, but he shakes his head, gulping before replying, his voice thick:

“No, it’s fine, I should probably... talk about it, right? Morgana is always on my arse about being less repressed or whatever.-”

Merlin nods, but doesn’t say anything, stroking his fingers through Arthur’s hair rhythmically. Arthur lets out a deep breath, humming contentedly at the gesture and leaning even more into it:

“-My father was... difficult to please. His default was anger, no matter what, and it was... rare, for him to be anything but furious. He never... not in public, and never left marks where anyone could see.-”

Merlin struggles against the urge to hit someone (preferably Uther, though unfortunately he was dead. He supposes Uther’s old supporters would do in a pinch), but he makes do with taking a deep breath:

“-When he was especially furious he would lock me in a storage closet, or the dungeons. He... he would order that all the lights be put out, and all the windows covered, so I couldn’t see. Merlin I couldn’t see anything. I still... I can’t stand the dark, but I’m guess you figured that out?-”

Merlin knows that he’s referring to the candles and the perpetually open curtains and nods, humming in agreement:

“-How pathetic is that? A grown man, a King, afraid of the dark.”

Merlin tightens his grip on Arthur and shakes his head:

“It’s not pathetic, Arthur. It’s an automatic response, a defence mechanism that your brain puts in place to try and protect you from being re-traumatised. To this day, I’m terrified of fire, even though I have no reason to be anymore, even though it can’t hurt me as a Dragon Lord.”

Arthur gulps, but relaxes slightly, though his voice is quiet, almost ashamed as he continues:

“I can’t look at Lancelot’s turned back, I struggle to spar with him as well. He... he doesn’t even look anything like my father, he just... he always wears red and has the same hair as my father when he was younger and they’re the same height. Sometimes I feel like I’m a child again, everything around me just disappears and I’m back in that dungeon, or my father is stood over me screaming. How am I meant to be a good King when I’m scared of my own shadow?”

Merlin sighs, staying silent for a few minutes as he attempts to put an answer together in his mind. Arthur sniffles again, and Merlin is suddenly made aware of the wet patch where Arthur’s head rests on his tunic:

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, as many times as you want: you are a wonderful King. You’ve delivered a Golden Age upon this Kingdom, your friends love you, your people adore you. You’ve never just been a good King, Arthur, you’ve been the best this Kingdom, and this world, has ever seen.”

Arthur loosens his grip again but huffs a quiet laugh against Merlin’s chest, which the Warlock definitely counts as a win:

“Kiss-ass.”

Merlin laughs this time, though he doesn’t stop carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair:

“Nah, when have you ever known me to kiss ass? I speak only the truth, My Lord.”

They both fall silent again, and Arthur pulls away from Merlin’s chest. Merlin drops his arms immediately, not wanting to make the other man uncomfortable, but Arthur just takes one of his hands and goes back to sitting by his side, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder. The silence is long, but comfortable, and it’s dark outside by the time Arthur speaks again:

“Merlin?-”

The Warlock doesn’t make a sound, but squeezes Arthur’s hand in acknowledgement:

“-I thanked you for all the big stuff: saving my life, and saving the Kingdom, and all that. But I never thanked you for the small stuff. The candles and the endless support and the excuses.”

Merlin frowns slightly in confusion, not that Arthur can see:

“Excuses?”

“You didn’t think I didn’t notice, did you? You started years and years ago. You always seemed to notice when being with... with my father, or the knights, or anyone really, was getting too much, you always had some excuse ready. Sometimes you outright lied, even if it would get you in trouble, just to get me away from people. I don’t know how you knew... no one else ever realised. Saying I had paperwork when I didn’t, or a patrol when I wasn’t scheduled for one, or a concussion just to give me some privacy. Thank you.”

Merlin smiles slightly, squeezing Arthur’s hand again:

“You were too busy looking after everyone else, someone had to look after you. I’m grateful it was me, Arthur, I-”

He pauses and sits up slightly straighter, though it doesn’t jostle Arthur too much. He lifts his head anyway, staring at Merlin in concern with tired eyes:

“Merlin?”

Merlin looks to him suddenly, but smiles:

“Hmm, sorry, just Mordred. Updating me on the kid and asking if you’re alright.-”

Arthur’s cheeks flush slightly, but Merlin’s smile grows as he shakes his head:

“-Don’t worry, no one knows about... this, just that you went berserk when you saw a Noble beating his kid, and punched his teeth out.”

Arthur relaxes and nods, humming thoughtfully as he looks to the floor. He stands up, wobbling only slightly after being curled up in the same position on a cold stone floor for several hours, and Merlin follows him confusedly:

“Do... do you want to go check in on them? The kid’s been asking after you apparently, wants to thank you.-”

Arthur looks conflicted, almost as if he were worrying that he wouldn’t actually be welcomed, so Merlin puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles, waiting until Arthur looks at him before continuing:

“-We can leave it until morning, if you like, but you saved that boy, Arthur, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t move until Merlin wipes his face clean with his sleeve and smooths out his clothes. If he uses a little magic to make the two of them more presentable, then neither of them mention it as they walk purposefully to the door.

Merlin looks to Arthur stood next to him, his hand hovering over the door handle:

“Ready?”

Arthur smiles at him, taking his hand and squeezing it, but not dropping it as he opens the door and steps into the corridor:

“Ready.”

THE END!!!

As angsty as it was, I really enjoyed writing that😅. I couldn’t help myself though, I had to give it a happy ending :D

I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!! I love y’all!!

My Ko-Fi, which is where I post sneak peeks of upcoming works, check it out and consider donating!!

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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!/ Playlist Here!

* Alright so here are the facts as you know them

* Gojo’s a goddamn player and a homewrecker

* The boy probably has half of Tokyo after him

* Not that you can blame them, that pretty face had you fooled at first too

* The second fact, it that for whatever reason, Gojo Satoru has chosen to play house with a future hopeful sorcerer named Megumi Fushiguro

* Which, through forces outside your control, you have become involved with as well

* And the last fact, was that as soon as this no longer interested him or benefited him in any way, Gojo Satoru would abandon the situation entirely and act like it never happened

* So-

* “(Y/N/N), you look nice today, did you do something new with your hair?” Gojo sings

* - pray tell, why is the school prince is currently sitting on top of your desk, looking at you with those heart eyes

* “Oi what do you think you’re doing?” You ask, a vein threatening to pop on your forehead

* “I’m flirting with you~” he sings, only leaning closer with that all-too-pleased smile

* “I’m pretty sure this is bullying” you reply

* Ever since you’ve started pseudo-parenting Megumi and Tsumiki, Gojo’s been doing crap like this,

* Sometimes he tries to feed you at lunch,

* “Open wide (Y/N/N)~” He’ll sing as he holds out a piece of sushi towards you on some chopsticks

* Only for Megumi to eat it instead

* “Why do you look so sad papa, I thought you said I was your pride and joy”

* other times he’s holding doors open for you

* “Ah here let me-“

* You watch as he walks across from you and opens the door to a random void shrine

* You look at him before sighing and opening your own door to the library

* The other day you mentioned how you didn’t get to try the limited edition Sakura Pepsi and came back to your dorm with a bottle on your desk

* Which would be cute- if the bottle wasn’t half-empty with a note that he’d that said

* “Sorry, I got thirsty on the way back”

* Seriously he’s the worst- and yet,

* You turned away from Megumi and Gojo bickering, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered you were,

* you hid your laugh behind your hand as Gojo jogs to catch up with you, saying he was just trying to predict your needs-

* And you held the half-full bottle of Sakura Pepsi to your chest, keeping it on your window sill

* Because you love him-

* Even though you know he’s just doing all these things to entertain himself instead of out of genuine affection

* Even though these feeling will do nothing but hurt you

* You still love him

* He makes your life feel exciting and fun

* And more than that, underneath that moronic playboy exterior, is a gentle, lonely heart

* A heart that will run away as soon as it knows how you feel about it

* So you mask your budding feelings as best as you can

* Because the only thing you imagine is more painful than knowing your feelings won’t be returned-

* Is not having Gojo Satoru in your life at all

* So you do your best to pretend like nothing has changed

* You act just as indifferent as you always have-

* “Here-“ you push your dessert in Gojo’s direction. “You like sweets right?”

* His smile is so radiant you almost have to shield your eyes

* Well, mostly indifferent anyway

* Not that the self-absorbed moronic prince has seemed to notice anyway

* Too busy focusing on the scrumptious piece of cake in front of him

* Still Gojo isn’t one to be underestimated, he looks to you with a twinkle in his eyes

* “Let’s share it!”

* So far he’s tried twice to have an indirect kiss with you, and he’s missed twice

* He even threw away those chopsticks when Megumi ate that piece of sushi in frustration

* But you know what they say, third times the charm

* You look at Gojo with a raised eyebrow, gaze flicking between the cake and his face

* What, did he imbue some cursed energy so it would explode when you tried to take a bite

* “No thanks”

* Cue Gojo crying as he eats his cake

* He’s really been doing his best lately to earnestly pursue you

* But for some reason, you just don’t get it

* “I like you,” Gojo says as you’re walking side by side on your way back to the dorm after visiting Megumi

* You look back at him, and Gojo feels a blush start to fan across his face

* He finally did it! He finally confessed to you

* And his heart is drumming away in his chest

* You don’t seem to understand the monumental significance of what just occurred because what your mind heard was

* “I {really} like {teasing} you”

* You sigh, your heart skipped a beat, for a second you almost got your hopes up

* There’s no way lady killer Gojo Satoru would ever pick you to be one of his lovers, and if he did it would just be so you could be apart of his personal harem

* “Ok”

* And then you turn around and walk away

* Gojo can’t help but feel like this is retribution for all the times one of his romantic partners has said ‘I love you’

* And he responded with:

* “Why would you do that to yourself?”

* Or

* “Cool”

* At first he thinks it’s a straight-up rejection, but he figures out pretty fast that you just didn’t get it when you keep acting the same as you always have around him

* But don’t get it wrong babe, none of this deters Gojo in the slightest

* “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask

* You’re both in the library, but only one of you is actually studying

* Gojo’s been staring at you with an oddly fixated gaze

* Honestly it’s got you feeling an uncomfortable heat spreading from your face to your neck

* “I’m not giving up you know”

* Giving up on what?!?

* What’s going on right now!!?

* But Gojo doesn’t offer any more insight choosing instead to finally bother reading the book in his hands

* What a weird guy

* You look down to your own book

* You feel the heat linger on your face and neck

* It’s because he’s always saying crap like that, that you’ve caught feelings for him

* Well whatever, everything fades right? Eventually, Gojo will probably lose interest in you-

* He’s part of a clan do you imagine they’ll find a nice girl from a respectable family for him to marry

* They’ll probably have a few kids who’ll be next in line to succeed him

* And by then he’ll be in such a prominent position that you’ll never see him again

* He’ll just be a memory

* Some boy you had a youthful unrequited love with

* The thought makes your heart clench but-

* “It’s for the best,” you tell yourself

* You’re going in completely opposite directions in life, you couldn’t possibly home for anything more than what you have

* After all your luck probably ran out the second you saw his face

* The most beautiful man you’ll ever see

* “I bet he would be one of those handsome grandpas when he gets older” you snort

* The kind that charms and flirts with young men and women just because he knows the effect he has on them.

* You still can’t believe you fell in love with someone like that

* “What a pain” you mumble to yourself, falling back on your bed

* You feel uncertain, afraid of the future even.

* Maybe a snack will help

* It’s the middle of the night, way past the time you were supposed to go to bed when you see him in the kitchen

* Great the last person you wanted to run into

* He’s just standing there in front of the fridge with the door open

* He hasn’t even turned around to say hi or anything

* “Oi Baka prince if you leave the door open like that every-“

* You stop mid-word, you only need one look at his face to know something is wrong

* It’s not all that uncommon for him to do something like this-

* See the thing is, Gojo knows he’s strong enough that he will get to choose when he dies- he’s not bound by the same pain the other sorcerers are, but-

* Well, he’s still going to die

* No matter how much he thinks he’s like god, no matter how powerful he is,

* He’s still going to die

* And growing up with the power he’s had and the mindset that he’s the strongest

* The realization can be pretty crippling

* He so afraid of the uncertainty that brings that most times he can’t move

* The worst part is it’s never when he’s actively thinking about death, or even when he’s on the job

* It’s always at times like this when he’s just woken up and is oddly hungry and he’ll remember

* “Oh, I’m going to die aren’t I?”

* And then it’s like he’s frozen solid

* What is it he usually tells the victims that enter his domain?

* “Funny how when you can do everything, you find you can’t do anything”

* Usually he manages to unfreeze after some unspecified amount of time, getting through it on his own

* But this time, when he finally escapes from the domain of his inner mind he’s covered in a layer of sweat just like always-

* But he’s not sure why he sprawled across the floor

* Not until his head shifts a little, only to see your face looming over him

* Omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg

* He’s resting his head in your lap!!!

* Honestly this has been a fantasy of his for a while, to have his head in your lap while looking at the cherry blossoms, and you feed him chocolates and a gentle wind caresses your face

* BUT NOT LIKE THIS

* “Feeling better?” You ask

* Gojo thinks he might combust, he moves to sit up but winces

* He’s got the worst headache, these little episodes of his do typically end with a migraine

* Your hand feels nice and cold as it rests against his forehead

* “Rest a little longer, we’re not in any hurry”

* Aaaaand now he’s screaming on the inside again

* “Sorry about this” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile

* It’s oddly endearing to see a shy Gojo Satoru

* “I bet your lovers would kill me if they saw knew you were showing me such a cute side” you’re half-joking when you say it, but you’re also half-serious

* It gives your Ego a little boost to know you’ve seen a side of him that most of his lovers probably haven’t

* You doubt the mighty Gojo Satoru ever allows himself to be this vulnerable, not even while he’s in the throes of passion

* So that same earnest look on his face startles you

* “I don’t have any other lovers”

* You snort

* “Sure, and I definitely didn’t steal Geto’s pudding that he was saving”

* “I’m being serious”

* Gojo sighs, here he is feeling awfully vulnerable and you still seem denser than a rock

* Do you think he would let anyone other than you see him like this

* “When are you going to realize that if it’s not you then it’s just no good?”

* Your heart is drumming in your ears, and you wonder if he can hear it

* Your mind is telling you to pull back, that this is way too good to be true, that this will only hurt you,

* You should get away while you still have a chance

* But instead something in you persists and you say:

* “Why do you think that is”

* Gojo’s hand reaches up, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, those clear blue eyes looking straight into yours

* Your breath stutters in your chest

* You always have been weak for those eyes

* His pink lips curl up into a smile

* “Because I love you”

* And before you know what you’re doing your bending down, pressing your lips against his

* “I love you too”

Bonus:

* “You can see through it right?” You ask

* Gojo fidgets with the blindfold, honestly he was hoping for a much kinkier reason than replacing his scuffed sunglasses when you gave him the blindfold

* “It’s a little darker, but that’s not a bad thing.”

* His hair is out of his face too which is nice

* But-

* “What’s with the sudden gift?”

* It’s not exactly out of character for you to get the people you care about something, but this seems a little outside of your usual MO

* “I just felt like it” You mumble

* Now that his eyes are covered up you think he might attract a little less attention, and all his former flings probably won’t be able to recognize him

* Your eyes drift to his uniform, even in the gross pantsuit you can still tell he’s got a pretty nice body,

* But you’ll have to adjust

* Gojo sees right through your nonchalant answer, smiling that wolfish grin

* “Aw was my sweetie scared I was going to leave them?” He coos, moving ever so close

* You only turn away your face

* Gojo only grins wider

* “Honey~ you should know by now if it’s not you then I’m not interested” he sings in your ear

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru headcanon #gojo satoru reader insert #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen x reader #superhero--imagines

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attllhak · 3 years ago

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@technicallya1manband so, I just remembered that while I was camping I wrote another thing for the Gerudo Twilight AU. Specifically, I have a lot of fun with ‘The Unreliable Narrator That Is History’ (putting this like that, because I basically use it as a trope at this point), and I got bored one afternoon while hiding from the sun because it is HOT out, especially where I was. And then I thought I should probably have Twilight appear, so it kinda ended up ‘Expectation vs Reality’ by the end. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, I’m off to bed now

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

“You look upset,”

Zelda startled, twisting to see Urbosa standing in the doorway behind her. The Champions had only just been dubbed as such, and Zelda had wanted to get away from the celebrations.

“I’m not,” she lied, turning back to face the sky.

Urbosa sighed, and after a moment she settled down next to Zelda.

“Little bird, you do not have to lie to me,”

“I know,” she sighed, not bothering to defend herself. “I just, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. My power won’t awaken, no matter what I do, and I just, I can’t live up to the expectations everyone has set for me. My mother unlocked her power so easily, and my grandmother did too. Why is it just me that can’t do this?”

“Zelda,” Urbosa wound an arm around her shoulders and pulled the younger girl to her side. “You need to stop comparing yourself to them. You aren’t them, and your power will awaken for you when you are ready,”

“But I’ve been ready!” Zelda threw out her hands. “And it’s not that easy to just, not compare! I know you wouldn’t understand that, but I just,” she put her head in her hands. “I don’t know what to do,”

“Wouldn’t understand, eh?”

Zelda peeked up through her fingers as Urbosa leaned back on her hands.

“Would you let me tell you a story, little bird?”

“A, story?”

“It has a moral,” Urbosa promised. “And I think you’ll like it,”

“Okay,” Zelda folded her hands in her lap. “Tell me a story,”

“This is an old story, very, very old. Almost, but not quite, as old as the gerudo ourselves. Back when Ganon took the form of a gerudo voe,”

“Seriously?” Zelda twisted to face Urbosa, eyes wide. “That is old,”

“Indeed,” Urbosa smiled. “The man that would become the monster Ganon had been king for only a few years when the Hero of that era defeated him. I won’t go into the details, as they get confusing, and this story is not about them. After he was defeated, Ganon was sentenced to death. He was not successfully killed, but that is also a tale for another time. What I wish to speak of is the aftermath,”

“Why start with Ganon when you’re talking about something after him?” Zelda huffed.

“Because, little bird, Ganon’s defeat left the gerudo without a king. I know it may not seem this way now, with how long it’s been since the gerudo had a king last, but this was the first time we were without so much as a prince. Not to mention the hatred we faced for our King’s actions,” Urbosa frowned, looking off into the distance. “The hylian crown was not kind to my people in the aftermath of Ganon’s defeat. We were chased even further out into the desert, and we struggled there for a long, long time. For almost a hundred years, we were without a king, and so we elected the first chief, to rule until a new king was born,”

“I’m so sorry,” Zelda frowned, suddenly feeling guilty.

“Do not apologize, little bird. It happened so long ago, and things have changed so much,” Urbosa pulled her in again. “Besides, the hylians also gave us our next king,”

“What?”

Both women turned to see the other Champions hovering in the doorway, though thankfully it seemed Zelda’s new knight was not among them.

“Sorry about that, highnesses,” Daruk mumbled, giving Revali a sharp look. “The King asked us to come find you, but we were kinda invested in the story,”

“I don’t mind telling you as well,” Urbosa turned to Zelda. “How about it? Can they join us?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course!” Zelda floundered, waving them out. “Please, take a seat,”

They filed in and sat around the two, and everyone turned back to Urbosa.

“Right, where was I?”

“A hylian king,” Revali said, looked a bit affronted on the gerudo’s behalf.

“He wasn’t hylian,” she corrected. “Well, I suppose that isn’t totally true. He definitely looked hylian, but he was gerudo. One of the girls who was alive when Ganon ruled had seen the writing on the wall and hid her daughter with the girl’s hylian father. This girl later married a hylian man herself and her daughter, it is said, moved very far away. Out into the middle of nowhere. She had a daughter herself, and this daughter had a son,”

“The King,” Zelda guessed.

“Yes, the King,” Urbosa smiled. “He didn’t know that though. His mother died when he was very young, and he did not return to the desert until he was already mostly grown. But, he did eventually return to us. I’m not sure how we knew he was our king, but there was no doubt at all by the time he was crowned. Of course, he was not in an easy spot. We were still suffering from the aftermath of Ganon’s rule, and he had very little time to prepare for his new role,” she paused to smile. “Which makes his achievements all that much more impressive,”

“You put an incompetent king on a throne vacated by the monster we’re getting ready to fight, and you expect us to believe he did well?” Revali huffed.

“No,” Urbosa said. “I expect you to believe we have never had a better ruler, either king or chief, after him,”

“What did he do?” Zelda asked while the others convinced Revali to stop squawking.

“Firstly, he repaired relations with the rest of Hyrule. Hylian - gerudo relations have only ever been better when your own mother was queen. Apparently he already knew the Queen at the time, and the two spent several days coming to an agreement that ended with all of the desert, and the highlands, being gerudo territory, so long as we remained a vassal state under Hyrule. After that, he is noted as having brought our people back to prosperity,”

“One king did all that?” Mipha asked.

“Yes,” Urbosa smiled. “At the time of Ganon’s rule, the gerudo were thieves. It was his gentle pushing that caused the change into a people of merchants. It is said that the first gerudo jeweller began her trade at the encouragement of the King. She was not the only one to have been encouraged by the King, of course. You know, the reason all gerudo chiefs have our own sand seals is because of him,”

“Really?” Zelda asked, thinking of Urbosa's own sand seal back in Gerudo Town.

“Oh yes, he loved animals,” she laughed. “It is said his pride and joy was a horse he’d raised from a foal that he never travelled outside of the desert without, and he even brought a goat with him into the desert,”

“A goat?” Zelda blanched.

“A goat,” Urbosa nodded. “One of the vai had an idea, to use the sand seals native to the desert as transportation. She decided to prove the worth of this idea, as it was still relatively unheard of for gerudo to be anything but warriors, by catching and taming one first. Once she had, she brought the animal to the King and offered it as a gift,” Urbosa smiled, shaking her head. “The King adored this idea, and loved his newest pet. He was very personally involved in the beginnings of the project, and encouraged the vai who had the idea when she suggested renting them out for people to use to cross the desert. The stories say that if the King was in gerudo town and couldn’t be found in the palace, then he’d be found with the seals,”

Zelda couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“My sword and shield are based on his, you know,”

“What?”

“Gerudo kings, before him, all fought with a pair of twin swords. However, when he arrived he already had a decent grasp of swordplay. Only he fought with a single sword and a shield. He was gifted a set at his coronation, and ever since then the leader of the gerudo fought with a sword and shield. I had mine made to look like the pictures we have of his,”

“That’s actually kind of sweet, in a way,” Zelda mused.

“What do you call him?”

“Hm?” Urbosa turned at Revali’s question.

“Don’t you gerudo give your kings fancy titles?” Revali elaborated. “What do you call this king?”

“Probably the Seal King,” Daruk suggested.

“Please!” Revali rolled his eyes.

“What do you think he’s called then?” Zelda asked.

“Well, I would have called him the Hero King,”

“What about the Merchant King?” Mipha suggested.

“Little bird?” Urbosa prompted. “Do you have a guess?”

“Um,” Zelda thought on that. “Perhaps, the Healing King? Since, he’s the one who got you back to a good point,”

“All very good guesses,” Urbosa smiled. “All wrong. We call him the Wolf King,”

“Wolf King?” More than a few of them echoed back.

“Yes,” Urbosa nodded. “Fierce and feral like a beast to enemies, but to allies, there is none more loyal or dedicated,” she sighed, looking wistfully at the now setting sun. “If given the chance to meet any individual from Hyrule’s history, I would want to meet him. To ask for his advice on matters, to let him see what he’s done for our people. I just hope that I will be able to be even half the leader he was,”

“You already are,” Zelda said softly.

Urbosa turned to her, and smiled. “Little bird, that means more to me than you know,”

(---)

“Princess?”

Zelda turned to see Chief Riju approach her where she stood on the balcony overlooking Gerudo Town.

“Oh, Chief Riju, my apologies,” Zelda dipped her head, an embarrassed pink making its way up her neck and onto her cheeks. “I didn’t, if I’m in the way,”

“You aren’t,” Chief Riju shook her head. “And please, just Riju,”

Zelda nodded, still a bit embarrassed, and the two looked out over the town together in silence for a moment.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” Riju asked.

“Just, thinking about Urbosa’s legacy,” Zelda admitted.

“Oh?”

“She told me a story once, about an old gerudo king. The Wolf King. She said she had wanted to be even half as good as he was,”

“She succeeded,” Riju told her. “At least, in my opinion,”

“No, you’re right,” Zelda shook her head, smiling. “I just hope she knows that, is all. Knows that she was able to leave a big enough positive impact that she succeeded in her goal,”

Riju set a hand on Zelda’s arm. “I do too,”

Neither girl said another word.

(---)

Zelda felt a bit like screaming, if she was completely honest.

Link, Wild, whatever he was calling himself, had gotten sucked away on some magic time travelling quest with other Heroes, and now he was introducing her to his mentor, the Hero of Twilight.

A Hero, who it turns out was also the Wolf King.

He was shorter than Zelda had pictured him, and you would never know he was the gerudo king by his appearance. He definitely looked the part of a wolf, though.

But here he was, holding out the original sword and shield that Urbosa’s were based on. There were differences, obviously, but the smith who made the Scimitar of the Seven and Daybreaker had done a very good job replicating them.

“Are we done now, Cub?” The King, Twilight, sighed.

He didn’t seem to be very invested in his role as king, which contrasted Urbosa’s description of him as ‘dedicated’. In fact, it seemed like he wanted to stop talking about it as quickly as possible.

“Almost,” Link nodded. He turned to Zelda and waved his hands at Twilight. “See? I told you I got to meet him!”

“What?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, uh, pardon us, Your Highness,” Zelda gave him a half bow, and noted the way his face scrunched up. “It’s just, my good friend Urbosa had told me about you a long time ago. She looked up to you and your legacy, and so I’ve also, sort of, admired you. I, I never thought I’d actually get to meet you,”

Oh, Urbosa should be here, Zelda thought. She had wanted to meet him,

“Right,” he said slowly, tucking the sword and shield back in his bag. “Uh, thanks?”

“You, don’t seem very invested in your kingship,” Zelda noted.

“May I be completely honest with you, Your Highness?”

“Of course,” she firmly tamped down the excitement in her chest.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,”

“What?”

That definitely didn’t sound like the king Urbosa told her about.

“I grew up on a ranch,” he explained. “I herd goats. I barely knew what I was doing when I became the Hero. And now I find out I’m supposed to be a king? My village had a mayor, and he taught me how to wrestle gorons. Because he used to wrestle gorons. I don’t know how many kings can wrestle gorons,”

“At least one,” Link offered.

“Not helping,” Twilight shot him a halfhearted glare. He turned back to her and sighed. “Look, I’m sure there’s some reason you and Urbosa admired me, but I have no idea what that could possibly be. I’m impressed I haven’t screwed anything up too badly yet. So, it’s not that I’m not invested, I’m stuck in the position so I may as well actually try and do well, it’s just, I’m sort of riding blind here. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’d really rather not talk about it,”

“Oh,” Zelda blinked. “I, suppose that makes sense. My apologies, I’ll try to refrain from bringing it up. I hadn’t intended to make you uncomfortable,”

“You didn’t,” he sighed, and Zelda felt a bit relieved. “And, thanks. It’s just, a whole headache for me,”

“I believe I understand the feeling, Your Majesty,”

“No, stop,”

“Stop?”

“No ‘Your Majesty’. No ‘King Link’, no royal titles at all. I am Link Ordon, the goat herd,” he frowned deeply. “I will accept ‘Hero’ if you must, but I,” he sighed in what seemed like defeat. “Please, just call me Twilight,”

“Of course, Twilight,”

“Thank you,”

Zelda wasn’t sure if the fact that Urbosa’s idol had no clue what he was doing would have made her friend feel any better, but it did boost Zelda’s confidence about the monumental task in front of her.

It was just a pity she wouldn’t be able to get any tips from him.

Although, apparently Hyrule’s first king was also among Links’s travelling companions. Maybe she could ask him for advice...

237 notes · View notes

constancelaufeydottir · 3 years ago

Text

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Neighbour!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of knife, blood, cursing, murder, mention of cannibalism, dark!Bucky(?), major character death, slight smut, fluff.

Summary: Bucky set his eyes on his sweet and cute neighbour who had suffered from a loss recently, determined to make her his.

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: This is my entry for @ambrosiase hotel indigo writing challenge. It’s my first ever writing challenge, and I had a lot of fun writing this! Honestly, I'm really grateful for this challenge because it motivates me to finish this wip that has been sitting in the draft for too long. Thank you for this lovely challenge mae ♡♡

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. If you see any mistakes, do let me know!

Room ⥤ Modern muse

Room service ⥤ neighbour + criminal

“Oh that poor thing.”

Bucky whipped his head in the direction of the voice. It was Mrs. Lockwood, his neighbour on the right.

“Huh?” He didn’t mean to voice out his confusion, but his brain was somewhat short-circuited, barely able to function when his sight was filled with you, and you only.

“That sweet girl over there,” Mrs. Lockwood was referring to you, his sweet neighbour to the left he was staring at, before the old lady came interrupting.

He had been staring for 5, 10 minutes maybe? He swore he wasn’t a pervert, you were just a sight for sore eyes, the healer of the wounds in his soul.

“What about y/n?” He asked, curious to listen to what his neighbour would say about the other neighbour. Also, he was fairly new to the neighbourhood, having just moved in last month, he ought to catch up with the gossip.

“Her boyfriend went missing a few months back, poor girl was devastated. Police suspected it was murder, even suspected y/n!” The old lady shook her head, casting pitying glances at the oblivious girl in the sundress, bathing under the sun with a book in her hand. “She’s such a sweet girl, how could they have suspected her?”

Bucky glanced at you, heart racing when you caught him looking. You shyly waved at him, a small smile plastered on your face hiding the underlying sadness of the loss of your loved one. His hand felt clammy when he raised one of them to wave back, his usual flirty self vanished whenever you were involved in the equation.

“Boy, you are in love aren’t ya,” Mrs. Lockwood teased, “I say go for it. Our lovely y/n definitely needs some lovin’ after what she’d been through and young man, I think you are the right person.” Her eyes crinkled as she patted Bucky encouragingly on the shoulder, like a loving mother cheering up her son.

Bucky, who was usually composed, blushed furiously. That big brain of his still hadn’t regained its functions thus he found himself unable to stop Mrs. Lockwood when she hollered at you.

Clearly immersed in your book, you jumped a little when you heard your name being called.

“Y/n, this young man would love to take you out on a date, what d’ya say?” His eyes widened at the accusation, though it was true that he wanted to date you, he just needed time to gather the guts to ask you out.

He saw you put down your book, walking towards him and Mrs. Lockwood. You were a front yard away from him, shielding the harsh sunlight from your eyes with your hands while leaning onto the fence.

“I’d love to,” you had to speak louder, and Bucky loved your voice as he only heard it only a handful of times now, often you were shy and quiet when you saw him.

“U-uhm, how about Saturday then,” He stuttered like a teenage boy who first received a love letter, suddenly forgetting how to speak, speech lost in the sea of disbelief and excitement, and affection.

You said nothing, only nodding and smiling at him, flashing those pearly whites.

“Great. 6pm. I’ll pick you up,”

“See you soon, James.” He watched as you walked away, a teasing smile on your face before you disappeared into the door. Gosh how he loved the way his name sounded on your lips, and he’d give anything to hear it again, and again.

Saturday came too soon, Bucky was not prepared at all. Well, he had done the reservations for the restaurant he’d planned to bring you to tonight, ironed out the creases and wiped off the non-existent dust on the dress shirt he would be wearing, so why was he nervous?

5:50 pm.

Call him old-fashioned or whatever, he’d prefer early to late and would love to escort you to his car. He stood in front of your porch, palm sweating and if his metal arm could secrete sweats, he was pretty sure it would end up like its counterpart.

You opened the door as soon as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, seeming eagerly waiting for him as he was for you.

He took in your outfit, the moderately revealing dress he liked, the one he saw you undress from, through his window countless times.

If it was possible to fall into a deeper love, he would.

The date couldn’t possibly be better than he imagined, it was perfect. Everything was great; the atmosphere of the restaurant, the quality of the food, and most importantly, you.

You were shy at first but opened up fairly quickly, telling him stories about you, and vice versa. You sympathized with him when he told you how he got the metal arm, your fingers grazing the delicate and intricate loops and lines on the metal surface.

His fingers were woven into yours halfway into the dinner, the cool metal fingers of his absently caressing your knuckles as you shared the story about your family, who disappeared mysteriously, then your ex-boyfriend, who went missing 5 months ago, like your family.

It was hard, talking about missing loved ones. Bucky could tell, by the way your hand unconsciously tightened, the lingering sadness in your eyes as you mentioned how happy you were before him. The way your tears were brimming in your eyes, threatening to glide down your face, it wrenched his heart, seeing how broken you were. He would try to pick up every broken piece of you in a heartbeat, mending them back together, fixing you until you were happy again if you would let him in.

He was kind of glad your ex-boyfriend was out of the picture, though it was a selfish thing to say. He desperately wanted to claim you, wanted to be your last and only boyfriend.

He’d been going on dates with you for a few months now. You were perfect, almost too perfect if he would say. You were practically his dream girl, so kind and generous. So sweet and loving. Pretty much everybody in this neighbourhood would agree with him and he sometimes wondered if he really deserved you. A beauty mingling with a beast. No one would ever want to see that, after all, even the beast turned into a handsome prince at the end of the fairytale.

Bucky wondered, if you found out what he did every night after you were asleep or what he took from your closet when you were away, would you still want him? If you found out the beast within him, would you still love him the same?

His thoughts were occupied and it wasn’t until the sharp pain in his fingers that he snapped out of his trance.

“Fuck!” You heard him cursing and went to him, gasping when you saw the streams of blood flowing from the deep cut from two of his fingers.

Hastily reaching out for the clean cloth from one of the drawers, you placed it over the wound, applying pressure on them.

The red quickly seeped through the pristine white cloth, two colours clashing as the red engulfed the white.

Bucky noticed you wincing at the red, gulping at the sight, head slightly turned away. It was obvious you were uncomfortable at the sight of blood, so he took the cloth himself and nudged you to wash the faint hint of blood on your palms.

“Sorry, now you might have to do this alone,” Bucky gestured at the ingredients on the counter, “and sorry for the cloth, blood stains are quite hard to get rid off.”

“Don’t you worry, a little hydrogen peroxide and the cloth will be as good as new,” Bucky let you tend to his wounds and pushed him towards the living room where he would sit at the couch for the next hour while you were busy at the kitchen preparing dinner.

While he was in the living room, he took in the interior of your house. He never got to take a close look, as he always had to sneak in when it was dark. The beige colour walls, cream coloured furnitures, books arranged perfectly on the floating shelves. The pictures and art hung on the clean walls, not one of them is crooked. The square coffee table with only the remote and a display plant on it, and when he shifted himself to sit at the center of the couch, did he realize the coffee table was lined up perfectly in the middle of the TV and the couch.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, he didn’t depict you as a meticulous person. No wait, whenever he went out with you, you’d arrange the plates to sit between the utensils perfectly. When you get boba, the straws must precisely be in the center of the cup, and if you missed it, your eyebrows would furrow in annoyance subconsciously.

His eyes wandered over to your figure in the kitchen and was not surprised to find you wiping and hanging the cutting board on the ceramic wall, adjusting it with your fingers so it wouldn’t be crooked while waiting for the stew to simmer.

You caught him looking at you and threw a smile at him in which he reciprocated, then continued to let his eyes wander through your living room. This could easily be an IKEA showroom, he thought.

Another week went by, Bucky found himself more and more in love with you, if that was possible in the first place as if he didn’t already dedicate all the space in his heart for you.

You were both in the kitchen again. This time however, he was busy mixing the sugar, flour, and cocoa powder mixture, with you snuggling behind him, arms circling his waist as you watched him do the magic.

He felt sorry for not helping last time so he was making up to you by baking some brownies.

As you both were cleaning up, brownies baking in the oven, Bucky turned to you.

“Hey, I never asked, but what do you do for a living?” He questioned nonchalantly while wiping the huge plastic bowl.

The wet spatula fell from your grip, dropping into the sink of water, droplets of soapy liquid flecked on your shirt.

“O-oh, i’m an artist!” You let out a laugh to conceal your flustered state, “Aspiring artist to be exact.”

“An artist,” he hummed, as if chewing onto the meaning of the word, “could you show me your works?”

Your head whipped towards his direction, mouth parted in surprise. Nobody has ever appreciated your dream. Your family, your friends, your ex-boyfriends, all of them claimed that being an artist would lead you to being unsuccessful, and you deemed to prove them wrong.

“Yes, yes, of course,” you were overjoyed. Abandoning the half-washed utensils, you clasped your hand around his wrist and dragged him to follow you towards the second floor, into a room hidden behind another beige coloured door, where you kept all your works.

Rows of headless mannequins clothed in white dresses painted with red blossoms appeared before him as you pushed open the door.

He was utterly mesmerized. He trailed his gaze across the display, a smile painted his lips as he deduced that every piece of them was unique. No two dresses had the same pattern.

Some had plain red blossoms splattered on it, some had dark red waves littering on the bottom hem; some with brush strokes of red. There was also a different tone of red, bright and dark or somewhat in between.

“Wow, this is just … amazing!” He found himself at a loss for words, “are those blood?”

“Yes, they are.”

“I thought you don’t like blood?” Bucky teased.

“These are animal blood. I’m fine with it as long as it’s not coming out from a human,” you retorted.

He chuckled. Once again admiring the intricate patterns of your works, marvelling at how talented and perfect you were. His heart sank at the thought of the question he frequently found himself asking, how can someone so perfect like you end up with someone less than perfect like him.

You apparently noticed his changed demeanor as you inched yourself closer to pull him into an embrace, placing your chin on his chest, eyes searching for his sad blue ones.

“Are you okay?” He hugged you tighter, sighing.

“I’m fine. I just … I think you’re perfect and you’re everything I've ever wanted. But I'm not sure if I'm perfect enough for you.”

“Oh James, you’re more than enough. I assure you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted too.”

Bucky felt like his heart was filled to the brim with adoration, butterflies erupted from his stomach. Your assurance was everything to him, keeping his wandering soul anchored and he was grateful for it, grateful for your existence. The more the reason to cage you by his side so you couldn’t ever leave him.

His lips were on yours the next second, his grip on your waist tightened as you deepened the kiss, tongue finding his; busy hands sliding from his stomach to his shoulder.

Both of you were drowning in this ecstasy, unwilling to part away from each other’s touch.

The loud ding of the oven startled the both of you. Momentarily parting from each other, you stared at him with a heated glance. His eyes were hooded, filled with lust, desire.

“Fuck the brownies,” you whispered, molding your soft lips on him once again, the hunger for each other far greater than the stupid brownies, “need you now.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, large hands cupping your bottom as you hopped and hooked your legs behind him, arms instinctively went to his shoulders for support.

He brought the both of you to your room, the one he was all too familiar with, the one with the same cream coloured theme which could definitely pass as another IKEA showroom judging by how perfect the layout was.

The only odd thing that stood out in this far too perfect room was the trail of scratch marks extending from the door frame to the wall outside of the room.

The deep scratch marks were somehow etched deep in his brain, he couldn’t let it go. It felt as if there was a dot of blank ink on a piece of white paper, and even though there was more white than black, you’d only be fixated on the dot of black.

He would ask you about the haunting marks on the wall and your fingers that were tracing patterns on his skin would falter, you’d give him the warm smile he loved while brushing it off saying it was the huge Dobermann your aunt owned which did that.

Even when he was balls deep in you, the vivid image of the scratch marks were there in his head, though you were quick to draw back his attention with a grind on his hips, both of your bodies covered with sheen of perspiration. Strands of your hair sticking to your body, but you pay no care to them as you rocked your hips, chanting his name over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer.

His eyes were on your fucked out state, his grip on you like steel. The cool surface of his metal arm contrasted with your hot flushed body as you chase your high like a traveller chasing the oasis in a desert, desperate for a quench of thirst.

Even when he was chasing the same high, vision blinding with bliss, the marks were still there and this time they were accompanied by the white dresses painted with red, and red only.

Bucky was always a doubtful person. Doubting every single decision he’d ever made. Doubting himself, doubting others. But there was one thing he was certain of, there was something less than innocent lurking underneath your skin. Of course, he was still head over heels for you but he was pretty adamant to find out the sinister in you, hoping it would answer his questions, mainly the recurring image of a certain mark.

Bucky was a lot of things, dumbass , dork, clumsy(per sam), but he was not stupid. Hell, he was far from stupid. Those scratch marks, definitely not the Dobermann.

You were a perfectionist, you couldn’t possibly leave the mark there and acted like nothing happened in the first place. He’d imagine if it was the dog, you’d probably have someone fix the dent the same day, unwilling to allow even a speck of blemish in your flawless house.

Bucky was a lot of things, and being a dumbass was definitely one of them as he was showing up on your porch in the evening unannounced.

He’d considered sneaking in like he used to do but he knew, he saw that you were still in the house. He couldn’t and wouldn’t jeopardize your relationship with him knowing he’d get caught.

He knocked on your door, hearing footsteps paddling, rushing to him.

As you opened the door, your eyes widened at the sight of an awkward Bucky. Although you were quick to throw him an unalarming smile, he still caught the nervousness in you.

There was something off with you. The disheveled hair, thin layer of sweat adorning the crown of your head, unknown wet liquid staining your shirt.

He caught a whiff of the strong smell of chemicals wafting through the door, it smelled a lot like bleach.

“I’m sorry,” he scratched at the back of his neck, “is this not a good time?”

“It’s fine, come on in.”

The smell of bleach invaded his nose the moment he stepped into your house, flooding and overwhelming his senses causing him to wince.

“Were you deep cleaning?”

“Yeah, I accidentally spilled some of the animal blood this morning. Had to use hell lots of hydrogen peroxide to get rid of them. Sorry for the smell.”

“No no, it’s okay. Let me just open the windows and door, okay?” He was getting a little light-headed now, desperately needing some fresh air. “Doll, you need to ventilate every time you use bleach, it’s harmful for your health to inhale all these fumes.”

You blushed at the term of endearment, yet wanting to blame him for not calling you that earlier.

He went over to open the windows, sighing contentedly at the waves of fresh air hitting his face as the wind blew in.

He felt your arms snaking around him, head leaning against his broad back.

“I love you, James. Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“I love you too.” He turned around and hugged you, his chin propped on your head, not knowing you had a solemn expression on your face.

He’d spent the evening with you, watching TV on the couch with you in his lap. It was so mundane yet he’d never got bored of this, wanting to do this with you for the rest of his life.

Outside the window, the orange and yellow sky faded into darkness.

“Let’s order take out, how about Thai food?”

“I’ll cook,” you kissed him on the lips and got up from his lap before he could reply anything.

“Ok, you need help?” He heard a faint ‘no, it’s fine’ coming out of the kitchen followed by the clanking of pots and utensils.

His neck stretched to peek at your figure in the kitchen, too busy chopping up ingredients to notice he was no longer at the living room.

He made his way down the basement, where the pungent smell of the bleach was still lingering.

The wood creaked as he stepped on the stairs, announcing his arrival to the darkness surrounding the basement. The soft glow of light illuminated the large space, a wall of tins stacking on each other revealed to him. A few easels of different sizes were propped on the wall with several grey aprons hanging beside them.

He walked closer to examine the insane amount of tins. A small label that said Pig blood was stickered on the body of the white tin.

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Do people really sell animal blood in metal tins, wouldn’t they go bad?

There were loads of questions in Bucky’s head, questions with answers only you could provide.

He noticed a chest freezer sitting in the corner of the basement and his legs brought him to it before he came to realize. The whole basement was so quiet he could hear the soft ringing in his ears, the racing of his heartbeat amplified as his hand inched towards the lid.

There was nothing in the freezer, to his surprise.

The empty freezer stared back at him, as if mocking his fruitless attempt. He was relieved, or disappointed, he couldn’t tell the difference and there was no point in distinguishing them now since you had nothing to hide. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting to find in the freezer.

“Babe?” You stood behind him with an apron on, a knife in your hand, a second after he closed the door to the basement.

He leaned against the door frame, hand went to his head, eyes squeezed shut as he pretended he was having a headache.

“Felt dizzy all of a sudden, I was just making my way to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. I was just about to tell you dinner's almost ready,” a tooth-rotting smile was plastered on your face.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he watched as you walked away, letting out the breath he’d been holding. His palm was clammy, heart beating rapidly.

“I love you,” You placed your hand on his arm, eyes meeting his.

“I know, doll. I love you too.”

This was seconds before dinner.

“James, I love you.” You whispered, watching him giving you a grin before he stuffed the meatball into his mouth.

“Wow, I'm so loved today. It’s the secon- no, third time you’ve said ‘I love you’ to me today.” He grinned, heart bursting with love. “You know I love you too.”

This was mid-dinner.

“I love you so much, James.”

Bucky was getting suspicious of you. Were you hiding something, perhaps cheating on him? For there were no reasons for you to keep telling him you loved him even though he knew how much you loved him and vice versa.

“I love you,” you kissed his knuckles, “this might be the last time I get to say I love you, James.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your statement, mouth parting to question what you meant. Before he could voice out something, the world faded into nothingness.

A thin film of blurriness clouded his eyes when he opened them, Bucky had this feeling like he was drowning in a swamp and his whole body was bound.

Blinking furiously, he regained his vision. You were sitting on a chair leaning forwards while looking at him endearingly, your elbows propped on your knees, palms supporting your chin.

“Hello, my love,” you were smiling oh so sweetly. The same smile that got him mesmerized and head over heels, except this time he didn’t feel the warm fuzzy feeling exploding in his chest, this time it was the goosebumps crawling on his arms and the chill creeping up his spine.

Now everything made sense, every single of his questions was answered.

You looked down at his body, the one that was once full of life, full of love. You watched as his glassy blue eyes etched with fear quickly reduced into this grey lifeless orbs, still pretty but lacking the element of a beautiful soul.

You weep for him, mourn for him. Mourning the short duration of love shared between the both of you. Mourning for yourself, for falling too hard. Mourning for him who kept you always in his heart.

To be honest, you were a little hesitant to end his life, he was better than the last one. He was perfect, warm, kind, loving, gentle, but not perfect enough. He simply did not reach your expectations, and you, could not bear imperfections, even the slightest. The answer to his downfall was pretty easy, he was too close to the ugly truth. And despite you knowing his love for you outweighs his doubt and fear in you, you simply couldn’t risk it.

Your love for perfection exceeds your love for him.

The melodious music of your ringtone echoed in the ample space of the basement, you brought up your phone to your ears as you answered the call.

“Mrs. Lockwood? Yes. Of course. I did. No no no, I’ll do it for you this time. He would definitely taste delicious I assure you.”

Time to get to work, you sighed as you stood there with a white dress splattered with blood. How artistic, you thought.

You always loved this part of the process, you’d wear the whitest piece of dress you own whenever you work with your projects.

You loved how the blood peppered your clothes, forming blossoms of dark red flowers on the fabric.

You kept every single piece of them, because no two are the same. Every one of them tells a story, of men and women who loved you and who you loved, of those who were once a body with a soul.

Wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks, you gave Bucky one last loving look and the blade of your butcher knife came in contact with his once pink but now pale skin as you hummed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the basement, forming echoes.

A few blocks away, a baby cried, body covered in mucus. The tiny infant cried, each time louder than the previous, wailing his lungs out, as if mourning. For one soul born, another reaped.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #neighbour bucky #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #the hotel indigo writing challenge #maeras writing challenge

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sunnyville36 · 3 years ago

Text

Mamihlapinatapai {part 2}

Thank you all so sooo much for the kind feedback on part 1! Part 2 is coming at you now! 💜

Need to catch up? {overview} {part 1}

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: injuries, mentions of death/war/murder, emotionally abusive parents

Rating: Mature

Word count: 4.5k

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Mamihlapinatapai - (noun, Yagán origin) a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate)

A Summer’s Ball | Kingdom of Gu, present day

The next few days were just as tumultuous as the first, Chan and Korenna slowly progressing from treating each other with complete silence, to short-lived bickering, to finally being able to hold a civil conversation for at least a few minutes. You escorted them to more ceremony preparation meetings, then to councils with the foreign affairs ministers, the historians, the priests, each one stressing how this union would be a stepping stone in your two kingdoms’ relations and they should think of it as a huge honor. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the both of them, being reminded over and over how their lives were simply a means to an end, to be controlled at the whim of their fathers’ aspirations.

A turning point finally came when the three of you visited the city surrounding the palace grounds, the prince refusing to miss his weekly visit to the village market. Chan loved to interact with his people, to support their businesses, to hear their grievances, to show he cared. You followed behind the two of them as you walked through the plaza lined with stalls, Chan waving to each of the merchants, Korenna watching him with a mix of reservation and admiration.

“Your people seem to be thriving. I wish I could say the same about our villages.”

You eyed Chan, knew he was forcing himself to hold back a biting remark, likely about how if Lajor’s people were currently suffering, it was the monarchy’s fault. He finally came up with a question, trying his best to keep the conversation going.

“Have you brought up your concerns to your father?”

“I’ve tried, but he doesn’t want to listen to anything I have to say. All he cares about is what he thinks is right, no matter who suffers for it.”

Chan nodded solemnly, “I can understand that.”

Korenna gave him a somber look and appeared to have something more she wanted to say, but was promptly dragged off by a small child wanting to show her his father’s bakery stall.

You nudged Chan’s arm. “See, she’s not so bad, Your Highness. If you give her a chance.”

He started in the direction of the princess, turning to walk backwards and smile at you with his arms out in a lighthearted shrug, “If you say so.”

***

That evening the king was hosting a ball, to celebrate the engagement of the prince. You’d helped Chan dress, his midnight blue velvet ensemble and dark hair set off against the silver crown he wore making him look more like a deity of the moon than an earthly prince. Then you had gone to assist Korenna. You couldn’t deny how beautiful she looked as you watched her from across the room, her champagne colored gown and perfectly curled blonde hair standing out against the relatively muted colors worn by the other attendees. She was standing away from Chan, talking amongst a group of noblemen’s wives and other high powered ladies, but her eyes never strayed far from his back as he talked with Minho and some other knights around a wooden table in the corner.

“You look quite stunning tonight, Y/n. Purple is definitely your color,” came a deep voice on your left, and you turned to see Prince Felix approaching you, his small frame clothed in a breathtaking deep red suit. The younger brother of Prince Minho, Felix had the sunniest personality of anyone you’d ever met, quite contrasting to his voice but in perfect harmony with the bright smile he flashed as he reached your side. It had been several months since you’d last seen him, his studies as apprentice to your kingdom’s Chief Healer taking him to the academy in the highlands far away from the city.

“Prince Felix!” you exclaimed, arms reaching to pull him into a quick hug. “I could say the same for you; that red suits you perfectly, Your Grace.”

Felix laughed, releasing you from his hold. You and he had been close friends since childhood, ever since, at the age of 5, he’d stepped on the hem of your skirt and you’d pushed him into a mud puddle, causing guards to rush over and attempt to have you arrested. His mother and the queen had stepped in, calming the guards as you remorsefully reached out your hand to help him up only to be pulled down into the mud next to him, the both of you dissolving into fits of laughter.

“I’ve missed the city. And it seems the city has missed me for all the excitement it’s spun up in my absence.” His eyes followed your gaze to where Korenna had made her way over to Chan, and watched as she led him out to the quiet balcony overlooking the gardens. “How are you taking all of this?”

“I’m fine, Your Grace. What reason would I have not to celebrate such a momentous occasion?”

Felix fixed you with a knowing look, but dropped the subject, content to stand with you at the edge of the dance floor.

“Y/n, I thought I told you not to let Christopher and the princess out of your sight,” came King Bang’s voice from behind you. “The last thing we need is for them to get into one of their verbal sparring matches with the whole court present.”

You turned, lowering your head to the king. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

You left Felix next to the king, his expression turned to one of distaste at his new company, and walked quietly out onto the balcony where the couple was talking.

They were standing closer together than you had ever seen them, leaning forward against the railing’s edge. They seemed to be deep in conversation, Korenna actually reaching her hand up to place it on Chan’s back. It didn’t feel right watching them without their knowledge, so you cleared your throat loudly, causing both their heads to snap up. Chan looked slightly embarrassed, his head tilting forward, but Korenna’s expression was almost unreadable. She stood staring at you for a few seconds, then pursed her lips, nodded her head to Chan, and walked back into the main ballroom as you approached him.

“I apologize, Your Highness, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Trust me, Y/n, you didn’t,” came Chan’s tired reply. You wanted to know if she had upset him, to know how you could comfort him.

“What were you discussing?”

A soft song started to make its way out from the half-open door. Chan looked up at you, completely ignoring your question.

“Dance with me?”

Several seconds went by in silence. He reached out his hand, eyes imploring you to say something, to say yes.

This was dangerous. You couldn’t think of a worse position to be caught in, dancing with a betrothed man far above your stature. But you also couldn’t think of a way to say no to him.

You took his hand and he pulled you flush against him immediately. You tried to resist the urge to place your head on his chest, but the feeling of being in his arms was too much, made you feel so safe. So you laid your cheek there and felt a low hum come up through his chest. It was quiet for a while, the two of you simply swaying back and forth, not doing any particular dance. You felt his head rise from where it had been resting on top of your head.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but you look gorgeous tonight Y/n.”

“You told me that earlier, Your Highness.”

“I know. I wanted to tell you again.”

Then he placed his head back down and you continued to spin in slow circles until the song ended. He brought your movements to a stop, taking your hand and kissing the top of it as he leaned forward in an exaggerated bow, “Thank you for the dance, my lady.”

You looked at him with a small smile. “You’re welcome, Your Highness.”

He returned your smile, turned, and walked back towards the party. You felt your chest tighten, feeling a little too much like your dance had been his way of saying goodbye.

Thinly Veiled Threats | Kingdom of Gu, 6 years ago

“Watch out!”

You turned towards the direction of the voice just in time to see Chan break through the wooden fence in front of you, thrown off his horse by the force of the lance he just took to the chest.

The prince had just turned seventeen, which made him eligible to compete in the annual Four Kingdom Competition, where knights, lords, and even royalty from the continent’s four greatest kingdoms met to determine who among them would be crowned victor in a series of strength tests. His father had of course insisted he enter on his first eligible year, which had led to the activity you were currently engaged in, training a boy who was used to classrooms, libraries, and diplomacy lessons the intricacies of hand to hand combat. The tasks ranged from archery to sword fighting, wrestling to jousting, and while Chan knew his way around a broadsword and shield, it was clear that the latter of those was not going to be Chan’s strong suit.

You walked calmly towards where he sat on the ground, knowing he would only be more embarrassed by any attempts to rush to his aide. He was sitting up, so you could tell he wasn’t badly injured, but his right hand still stretched across his abdomen to clutch at his left side. He’d been hit there at least three times now, and if you had to guess, what was once a bad bruise was more likely a patch of broken skin at this point.

Voices floated around you as you pushed your way through the small crowd that had gathered around him, many asking the prince if he was alright or giving unsolicited advice on how to avoid the outcome he seemed to be cursed with. You picked up on the voice of a squire, one who served the boy who had knocked Chan down most recently, as he nudged the side of the older boy’s arm.

“You could have gone a little easier on him, you know. His mother just died.”

Great. Just what you needed; a physically and emotionally wounded Chan.

“Alright, give him some room everyone. His Highness is fine; go back to your own practicing.” You shooed away the stragglers and knelt so Chan could wrap his free arm around your neck, hoisting him up and slowly making your way to the infirmary tent. Leaning him against the side of a cot, you reached for the clean cloth and distilled vodka; this was going to hurt like a bitch, but Chan could take it.

“You’re pulling back too much and too early, it leaves your side vulnerable,” you said, carefully easing off his ripped tunic so you could tend to his wound.

He stayed silent for a few moments, fingers gripping harshly against your shoulder as you cleaned the cut and wrapped a bandage around his midsection.

“I…,” he trailed off, seeming to struggle to find the words he was looking for. “I’m a coward. I’m a failure and a coward and everyone knew it except me, until just now.”

His words knocked the wind out of you. You knew he was ashamed (entirely unnecessarily) when he couldn’t hold back the tears at his mother’s funeral while his father maintained his perfectly stoic expression (that heartless bastard), knew he was self-conscious about his fighting abilities, but you’d never heard him express that insecurity so directly before.

“Your Highness,” you spoke softly but forcefully, hands cupping his face to make him look you in the eye, “you are one of the bravest men I know. You have one of the hardest burdens a person can bear on your shoulders, have had it since you were born, and you carry it with grace and dignity and compassion. You inspire me and countless others every day with your strength and generosity. You are not a coward.”

He looked back at you, and suddenly you felt yourself being engulfed in his embrace, his legs parting to pull you close to him. He wrapped his arms tightly around your chest, his head pressing into the crook of your neck. Slowly you brought your hands up and began to rub small circles on his bare back. This was the most emotion he’d shown since that night you stood beside his mother’s bed, watching as he held her hand and whispered all the things he wanted to tell her one last time. You were a little overwhelmed, but mostly happy, happy that maybe he was feeling again. Eventually you heard his quiet voice next to your ear, “Thank you, Y/n.”

Then he released you from his hold, donned his shirt, and walked back to the jousting pitch. You watched him go, until a deliberate cough came from behind you, shattering your reverie.

“I suppose he’s lucky to have you.” The words spilled from the king’s mouth, his signature gravelly voice seeming to chase all other sound from the tent.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, I hadn’t noticed you were here,” you spoke, bending into a curtsey.

“It seems it is quite easy for the two of you not to notice others when you think you are alone.”

You blinked, unsure of where the king was going with his remarks. He sidled up to you, close enough you could hear him at a whisper.

“I may have owed your family a debt, but that has been repaid ten-fold. I know my son, know he would never be led astray of his responsibilities unless you gave credence to those thoughts in his head, fed his intimate physical desires. So do not delude yourself into thinking you can take him from me, little servant girl. And if he ever does come to me, asking me to set aside our laws, our traditions, so he can marry you, I’ll know what you have done, and you will never see the light of day again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Satisfied with your response, he left you there, his words staining your mind like the bloody cloth you clutched in your hands.

The Hunt | Kingdom of Gu, present day

How he managed to get his father to agree to this you had no idea. But Chan always was very convincing when he needed to be.

You were preparing for a day’s long hunt. In all honesty it was an excellent idea; it would give Chan space to be himself after having been shut inside the palace for two weeks, preparing for his impending nuptials. Normally this was one of your favorite activities to do with Chan and the knights; getting to ride, to spend time in the woods, maybe use your bow. But the one condition of the king’s agreement had been that Korenna was going too.

She’d been different with you, with everyone really, since that night on the balcony, avoiding attempts to make small talk and speaking harshly when she made requests. You didn’t want your relationship with her to turn sour, seeing as you’d soon be serving her for the rest of her life (and yours), so you held your tongue and pressed on with your duties.

Chan’s black courser and your chestnut palfrey were saddled, and you were in the midst of preparing a well-tempered white mare for the princess.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

You looked up, seeing the dark head of hair and upside down smirk belonging to Prince Minho smiling down at you as he leaned over your kneeling frame. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

You were not as close to Minho as you were to Felix, but you had always gotten along well, your similar sense of humor and affinity for archery solidifying your friendship.

He offered his hand to pull you up, which you accepted. “I’m glad you will be joining us on this outing, Y/n. I’m not sure I could handle Chan and Korenna on my own, even with 5 other knights to accompany me.”

You hummed in agreement, finishing attaching the bridle around the mare’s head. “I’m not sure you could either, Your Grace.”

Minho let out his signature high pitched laugh as the rest of your party approached, and the two of you maneuvered to the front of the pack as you set off towards the nearby woods. You all rode in silence for a while, riding not typically being an activity that required much talking, until you heard Korenna speak from her position next to Chan in the middle of your group.

“So, who is the best at the strength tasks of the Four Kingdom Competition?”

A strange question to ask so out of the blue, but you supposed it was somewhat relevant to the situation at hand.

“His Highness is an excellent swordsman,” you replied, looking back slightly in their direction.

“Sir Jeongin has given us all a run for our money in the wrestling ring,” you heard a voice from the back say. He must be one of the other knights in your party.

Chan replied next, “Minho is a skilled horseman, beats me in the joust nearly every time.”

Minho’s eyebrows rose up at that, smirking as he rounded out the answers, “And Y/n here is an expert marksman. She’s the best I’ve ever seen with a bow.”

You thanked him mentally, hoping he could read it in the look on your face. You weren’t about to boast about your own talents to the princess, but it was nice to know that she was now aware you weren’t just some lovesick girl who followed the prince around, that you actually took your responsibilities seriously.

“Really? And who taught you about archery, Y/n?” You thought you heard a touch of menace in her normally high pitched voice, but brushed it off.

“I’ve had many teachers, Your Grace, but the first was my father.”

“How very… non-traditional. Where is your father now? I’d love to meet him.”

You saw Chan and Minho tense in their saddles, well aware of what your answer would be.

“He died, Your Grace.”

“Oh,” said Korenna, her voice noticeably softer now, “I apologize for bringing up a sore subject.”

“It’s alright, Your Grace,” you replied. “It was a long time ago. You couldn’t have known.”

An uncomfortable silence fell on the group then, but luckily your first planned stop was not far ahead. A small grove of trees surrounding a clearing was where you usually began the hunt, splitting off in different directions and meeting back there before sundown. But because you had the princess with you today, it was a more laid back affair, and you’d planned to have a picnic of sorts before you continued in earnest.

Everyone set about unpacking the sacks that carried your meal for the day. You uncorked your canteen, taking a sip before heaving an exasperated sigh.

You’d forgotten to bring extra water for the horses.

You called over to Chan, where he stood spreading out a blanket for Korenna to sit on.

“Your Highness, I’m going to the creek to get water for the horses.”

Chan looked up and you could see the smile on his face from where you stood across the grove. “I’ll go with you!” he said happily, only to have his arm tugged back by the princess next to him.

“You are not a servant, Chan. I’m sure Y/n can go by herself.”

Your loud conversation had caught the attention of the rest of the group, who were all looking over at you in interest. You were surprised by her bluntness, but she did have a point. “Her Grace is right, I don’t need you to accompany me, Your Highness. I simply wanted to tell you where I was going.”

Chan gave a side glare at Korenna, but agreed. “Fine, but you shouldn’t go alone. Sir Jeongin - “

A tall boy, clad in the red, black, and gold uniform of your knights, walked over to the prince. He was no more than eighteen, must have only just taken his oath. You remembered his name from the earlier conversation about the strength tests, impressed he was making a name for himself so early.

“ - please accompany Y/n to the stream to fetch water for the horses.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

So the two of you set off, leaving the rest to their meals. You didn’t really need a knight for protection, but your heart warmed at the gesture of Chan not wanting you to go alone. You arrived at the bank of the creek and began filling some extra pouches you had brought with water.

“It’s so much quieter here,” Jeongin commented absentmindedly.

Despite the sound of the water running, you agreed it did seem calmer here than in the grove you came from. As you knelt by the edge of the stream, you noticed large patches of grass surrounding some nearby trees had been pressed down. Curious, you walked over to the area, observing the singed ground and muddy boot prints on the rocks, telltale signs of human presence. You hadn’t run into anyone else on your walk over, but maybe there were some others out riding today. Raising your head, you called to your companion, “Sir Jeongin! Were there any other hunting parties out today?”

“Not that I know of, Miss,” Jeongin replied, his expression revealing he was rather confused by your question.

You looked around again, and that was when you noticed the torn piece of blue fabric latched to a jagged branch on a nearby tree. Your blood ran cold and you grabbed Jeongin’s arm, breaking into a run.

“We need to get back to them. Now.”

You’d made it about half way back to the grove when you heard a scream, you and Jeongin sprinting to reach the clearing. But when you arrived, the scene was entirely not what you expected.

Your mind had immediately gone to the Lajorans when you spotted that piece of cloth on the tree. But here you stood, watching men clad in your own colors raise their swords to clash with the group of knights who’d accompanied you and the royals. Your eyes frantically searched among the chaos, looking for Chan, but before you could spot him you noticed Korenna, hiding alone behind a large rock at the edge of the treeline. You pulled Jeongin back behind a tree, gesturing in her direction.

“Do you see the princess over there? You’re going to grab her, get on a horse, and ride back to the palace now.”

Jeongin was looking at you with wide, scared eyes; his mouth was open, not making a sound.

You shook his shoulder. “Sir Jeongin, do you understand me? Do not look back at us, just take the princess and get her to safety. I need you to do this.”

Your words seemed to finally reach him, and he set his mouth in a straight line. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Good. Go. And don’t look back.”

He left your spot behind the tree and you turned back to the action in the grove, still trying to find the prince. Finally your eyes landed on two men standing back to back, swords flying as they blocked the attack of about 6 different men.

Chan and Minho.

You started towards them, reaching for your own sword, when you spotted someone perched in a tree right outside the circle of men. The attackers started to pull back from around the two princes, and you could see exactly who the archer had in his line of sight.

You screamed his name, sprinting to cross the clearing and threw your body in front of him, arms outstretched.

You felt a sharp pain in your left shoulder as you fell against Chan’s chest, his arms coming up to catch you.

“Y/n! Y/n!”

Trumpets were blaring from the direction of the castle as Minho dragged Chan back, still desperately clutching you in his arms. The attackers were dispersing and you heard the sound of a voice saying “Chris”; it took a moment for you to realize it was your own.

“I’m here, Y/n, I’m here. Just hold on please. You’re going to be okay, just please hold on.”

The last thing you saw were his eyes as your vision went black.

Of Flower Buds and Roots | Kingdom of Gu, 16 years ago

“Mother, when will they be here?”

You were standing in the open-air courtyard at the front of the palace, your mother’s hands on your shoulders. The two of you had moved to the palace a few years ago, when your mother had gotten a job as a servant there after the war ended. Today, you were told, would be the day you were to start your position there, as personal attendant to the young crown prince.

“I’m sure soon darling. Remember we never rush royalty.”

As you waited, your eye was caught by a small boy standing with a large scary looking man. He looked to be about your age and was holding a tiny bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. The man seemed to be trying to take them away, but the boy clutched them to his chest. A woman who you thought you’d seen before approached them, glaring at the man, who backed away from the boy as she took his hand. Then, they started walking towards you.

Your mother tightened her grip on your shoulders, bending into a curtsey and pushing you down with her. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

“The pleasure is ours,” came the queen’s pleasant voice. She knelt down between you and the boy.

“You must be Y/n. This is my son Christopher, the prince. You will serve as his attendant.”

You stared at the boy, his eyes even with yours, hair mussed and shirt covered in dirt.

“He doesn’t look like a prince. He looks like me”

“Y/n!” your mother gasped, the queen chuckling slightly and calming your mother with a hand on her arm.

“You’re right, he might not look like one yet. But it’s going to be your job to help him become one. Do you think you can do that?”

You pondered her question and finally said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She smiled and stepped aside, placing her hands on Chan’s back and pushing him forward.

“Hi Y/n!” the boy said excitedly. “My name’s Chris. Or Chan. Either’s fine! I brought you these flowers! I thought they might look pretty in your hair.”

He extended his tiny fist holding the flowers and you took one from the bunch, pulling back your hair and putting the flower behind your ear.

Chan’s face immediately lit up in the brightest smile you’d ever seen, his eyes crinkling cutely. “I was right!”

From that moment on, you decided there was nothing you wouldn’t do to see that smile on his face.

{part 3}

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paper--moons · 3 years ago

Text

Regressor!Ling Headcanons

(with cg!Greed)

Greed hasn't exactly taken many human hosts over the course of his existence (in fact, he's only taken the one), but even he can tell there's something a little different about the young prince. How sometimes—but not all the time—when they have their little chats inside their philosopher's stone, Ling's soul seems different. Younger, more innocent. And even if the base is human, homunculi aren't supposed to be innocent. But for the most part he brushes this aside, instead focusing on his plans—at least at first, that is. And Ling is more than happy to let it slide as well. Gunning for the throne with a secret like his isn't necessarily ideal, as any weakness can be used against him.

It becomes glaringly obvious that something's up however when, during a bit of downtime after the latest scrap, he feels Ling tug on him and their body gets...fuzzy? Almost like the limbs are filled with cotton stuffing. But that can't be right; Greed's supposed to be filled with souls of the damned and far more avarice than is healthy, not soft teddy bear stuffing. His movements turn clumsy, his coordination is a far cry from what it is normally, and there's an overwhelming feeling of small permeating his entire being. There's a moment where he thinks he might have pushed them both too much, that Ling is broken in some way, but that doesn't feel right. This isn't what it's like to break. Naturally, he calls for a little tête-à-tête to demand that Ling explain what's happening to them. What he gets in response is not what he expects, however.

For his part, Ling hadn't expected to need to explain his regression—he wasn't in control of his body any longer, so why should it still come up? He's honestly just as surprised as Greed is when he starts slipping, and the way his body still reacts tells him that Greed has let him maintain more hold over their body than he originally thought. But no amount of resisting can stop him from slipping inside the stone, where he feels simultaneously surrounded and isolated, not to mention scared. And when Greed starts asking him questions—Why the hell is walking so hard right now? There something you forgot to mention, kid?—he can't stop himself from crying. It's worse than he imagines it might be, because once he does start crying Greed goes silent, and Greed is never so quiet. Ling knows he's messed up everything and only cries harder. Greed will want a new host now, he won't be able to take the throne, he won't, he won't...

A soothing sound somehow reaches him in spite of his sobs. Though it takes him a minute to realize that the tentative hushing noises are coming from Greed. It's clear that he's apprehensive, that he doesn't know what he's doing, but the gesture is enough that Ling calms down. In here, he sees Greed as he looks when he activates his ultimate shield; while the face looming over his very soul should be frightening right now, he finds comfort in it. It's familiar, it's safe. It's the face that protects him. So Ling tries his best to answer Greed's questions after a few hiccups. But he's so small that he can't, definitely treading babyspace instead of his typical three to four. Probably because he's been ignoring his regression, coupled with the stress at the turn his life has taken. It takes awhile before he comes back up entirely, and once he does he's embarrassed. Ling knows he wasn't acting like a prince, he wasn't even acting like a teenager—but Greed had been so, so patient with him. Willing to let Ling have control as he observed, but not without providing guidance from time to time.

Despite any embarrassment, Ling does answer the questions from before and explain things to Greed. How he's never gotten to really be a kid, always being taught how to be Xing's next emperor and avoiding assassination attempts for as long as he can remember. How sometimes he needs it to all just...go away for a little while. And after hearing all of this, Greed knows what he wants to do. He wants everything, after all. Every single human experience. So it shouldn't be so surprising that he wants to be this kid's papa. He thinks he'll do a better job than his old man ever did for him, not that Father was, well, much of a father or even reminscent of a father figure. The proposal that he'll look after him has Ling filled with a shy sort of excitement at the idea. He was never close with his actual father, and though Fu provided a sense of what a protective male figure might be like, the older man always kept a line of professionalism between them. Greed is different though; they're the same, there is no hiding secrets, and with that comes a deep mutual understanding.

However by the same token, it takes a bit of trial and error to figure out how everything will work, what with them sharing a body and all. But typically, once the fuzzy feeling starts encroaching upon their body, Greed is quick to find them a safe house for the next few days, along with any supplies he thinks they'll need and basically preps to hand things back over to him. Ling gets to spend time being small without having to worry about anyone finding out or any worrying at all really, and without feeling so alone. He's got his papa there every step of the way, whether it be to remind him that it's time for a nap or to listen to him babble about his toys (So what if Greed splurged and found the kid some toys? Sue him.).

And while he still can't believe it sometimes, Ling becomes happier with his regression overall. Happier than he's ever been. So much so that, together, they find out that the withdrawn toddler that they started out with is much more hyperactive and bright now that he's got the support he needs and deserves. Bouncing off the walls until Greed takes back over to quite literally steer him towards a different (calmer) activity. Always careful to frame it in a way that makes Ling want to do it too; redirections like Can you show me how to color again? Not sure I get the concept yet, kid. get Ling coloring for the next hour or so as he's only too happy to demonstrate. Until the urge to create chaos once again rears its head against the tyranny of naptime, and then they're back at square one. And these snatches of downtime that they share together to exist for a simpler reason, rather than their larger-than-life goals, are times that Ling cherishes long after Greed is gone.

#sfw agere #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist agere #ling yao #agere ling yao #fma greed #agere greed #moons hcs

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sneezefiction · 4 years ago

Text

answers

oikawa x reader

desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swift’s song “love story”

a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & there’s no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husband’s lyric changing habits lol – i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk

wc: 3k

— It’s 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of “shit” when the floor creaks, it's obvious that he’s trying to stay quiet.

But his attempts are in vain because, one, you’re wide awake and, two, he’s just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one he’d left on the hall table – you’d told him to throw it away but he’d refused saying that he’d “throw it away in the morning when his arms weren’t so tired.”

This is just karma.

The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, “fuck” follows right after it.

The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive.

You muffle your laughter with a blanket. He’s probably disoriented from the alcohol – it’s only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. You’d headed straight to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.

But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, he’s spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.

This weekend was no different.

Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, and…

You pull a face – one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.

Okay, that last part was a little different.

He’d had his head in your lap.

His head… in your… lap.

And, if you’re not mistaken (or delirious), you’d had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify.

That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...

You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric — a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isn’t very effective.

Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.

Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat.

Somehow you’d forgotten that he’d practically climbed into your lap. You’re not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes you’d had a little more to drink – just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.

Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?

Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki…?

Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but he’d do it to be a pain in the ass – not to charm the living-hell out of someone.

You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you… but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material – you really didn’t need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.

Oikawa is messing with your head.

If you knew any better, you’d have run away screaming the moment he’d asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.

But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldn’t keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.

He either knows you’re crushing like he’s the last man on earth or he’s blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good.

You don’t dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers… an irritating amount.

The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they don’t have nerve endings.

Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. You’d hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think he’s hot shit and doesn’t like you back – that would be unrequited love at its finest.

But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details.

This isn’t that big a deal.

And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isn’t someone you can simply “pin down.” He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, he’s already the embodiment of chaos – he’s proven this to be true over the past 4 months he’s lived with you.

There’s a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.

Maybe he’d forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that he’s only just remembered.

You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing “I’m in love with my hot, crazy flatmate” advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.

Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.

There’s a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.

But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.

You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.

Oikawa, voice confident and free, is… singing.

“...But you were everything to me, I was begging you ‘please don’t go’…”

But he’s not just singing.

“And I said…”

He’s belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didn’t put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...”

Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am… but you can’t find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.

God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that he’s inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, he’s somehow always there.

Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the library…

“You'll be the prince & I'll be the princess…”

And now he’s accidentally serenading you with Taylor’s “Fearless” album. In the shower.

You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so… done.

You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance.

“It's a love story y/n, just say ‘Yes.’”

And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.

What… did he just say?

The lyrics… they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You… you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You’ll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.

Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone else’s name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.

Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.

And especially not with your name.

Because that’s just... weird.

The grip on your phone is mighty – thank God for durable glass because any other material would’ve splintered or shattered in your hold.

But what the hell.

“Y/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,” he sings as though he were Beyoncé’s son.

This time it’s clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and he’s undoubtedly singing your name.

No, no, no.

“I keep waiting for you but you never come…”

You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.

“Is this in my head? I don't know what to think,”

In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldn’t be listening to this.

“He knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...”

And before you can stop your hand, it’s knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

There’s a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.

You’d only wanted to stop him from singing.

However, you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?

Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, “Hello?”

Shit.

Maybe if you’re careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didn’t hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when you’re both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.

You had questions. Questions that needed answers.

Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that you’d regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesn’t like you back? And why Taylor Swift?

“Y/n, is that you?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Who else would it be?

The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.

It’s too late. You’re already there. You’ve knocked and, in doing so, you’ve sealed your fate.

“...Yes,” is your whisper of a reply.

“What’s up? Was I too loud for you?”

You’ve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.

...is what you would say if you weren’t currently imploding. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” You look down at your shuffling feet.

The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, you’d forgotten to turn on even a single light.

You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.

“Wait, can we talk?” He asks as though it weren’t the question of the fucking year. “I mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.” There’s a lack of tact to his words.

This isn’t the charming Oikawa you’re used to. This is a blunt… confusingly straightforward Oikawa.

His tone wavers like maybe he’d had a little more to drink than you’d last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.

You swallow thickly, “Sure.”

Because what else can you say?

“Can I stop by your room in a minute?”

You take a deep breath, “Yeah.”

And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space… with your permission. And the weapons he’ll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed – whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.

Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.

But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.

The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival – hotter and louder with every beat.

The trod of footsteps tells you he’s approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.

With only a lamp to brighten the space, he’s more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. You’ve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this… is different. Oikawa’s shirt sticks to his chest slightly – he must’ve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.

He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.

Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space.

“Hey, I’m…”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to say sorry! It’s… it’s okay.”

Oops, you’d said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawa’s passionate performance.

An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.

He brings a hand behind his neck. “Oh, I was just gonna say that I’m still kinda drunk.”

You knew that much. Though you really thought he’d say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?

Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials?

Maybe he doesn’t realize you’d even heard him say your name in the shower.

“Oh... right.” You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.

“Which… probably isn’t good for either of us,” Different words drawl out and there’s a soft slur to some syllables, but at least he’s easy to understand, “me drinking too much, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I think we should both just go to bed then.”

Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.

They’re likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.

Although, it’s probably for the best that you don’t bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident – and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.

“Right.”

“But I think you should know that I like you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you respond again, automatically.

There’s another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.

The words tumble out, “Wait, say that again?” You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.

“I’m gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I don’t leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,” Oikawa says to himself.

“But I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,” the words are pointed back at you again.

He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just… completely ignore your question?

Your jaw drops, “Did…” you can hardly speak.

Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, “...did you mean for me to hear you?”

“...Maybe.” He draws out the “e,” looking back at you.

That’s it. He’s lost his fucking mind. You’re going to strangle him.

No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.

You have to make a note of sending him a “get well” card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.

“B- but… why? What?” You stammer out, back stiff as a board.

“You like me don’t you?” He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.

You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

And it’s not that you don’t want to respond.

It’s that you can’t. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.

Because he knew.

He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesn’t make the situation any less infuriating.

“And I like you back.”

You’re dumbfounded. You can’t think. This is ridiculous.

You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.

“Sleep well!” Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.

Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,

“No, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagines #seijoh #what did i just write #this is gonna go under: 'things i gave up my sleep for'#ughsjdljlds'ldsdjd #also #i dont like the term crack fic anymore? so i think just calling it humorous is... a good way to go #goodnight yall #queued up!

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cheekygreenty · 3 years ago

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Little Witch - Part 23

The Darkling x Reader

Aleksander walked into the dungeons not long after you, Zoya briefing him as you stood over the man who had caused a ruckus in your Palace. You were getting tired of his lies and fibs, basically begging to force the information out of his yourself but alas Ivan had some morals, telling you that the truth would come out of him in due time without the need for torture. Pity.

'I've been swindled, hoodwinked' he cried and you huffed, retreating to Zoya's side in annoyance. This man had some nerve lying in a room with 2 Heartrenderers.

'My guards tell me that they caught you fleeing the scene of the crime.'

'Yes, I followed them.'

'Followed whom?'

'They come from the other side of the Fold. From the start, they seemed, just, a bit off to me...-' You banged the back of your head against the wall in frustration, your patience wafer-thin. Zoya too looked done with the situation. Her jaw ticking in a telltale sign of annoyance.. '-So I ran.'

'How much of that is true?'

'He did cross the Fold with the others-' Ivan started but you cut in to finish.'-the rest were lies.'

You watched as Aleksander and Ivan entertained the man but your nerve had snapped for these theatrics. You needed to get the information and act on it, not make a spectacle. The man was already practically dead so why was he even trying to cover up his true identity?

Aleksander pulled up his sleeve and the tally on his arm was visible from your place at the wall. Countless journeys through the Fold burned into his skin in line form, a tradition used in all of Ravka by members of the public and First-Army.

'That is certainly entertaining. You are the Conductor, Arken Visser, are you not? You smuggle Grisha out of my palace! You help them abandon the war effort.' You were getting tired now, Aleksander had always played with his prey but this was dragging on and you had a growing list of urgent things to do: a dead Inferni to tend to, a missing sun-summoner to find, and a royal proposal.

You sighed loudly again, starting a slow pace around the dimly lit dungeon. To Arken you looked intimidating, his terrified eyes followed your steps around him, but all you were doing was keeping your boredom at bay.

'No. I deal in legal indentures. I don’t mess with Grisha.'

'Lie' both you and Ivan mused.

'I don't need them to tell me'

'Saints, hurry this up' You muttered under your breath as you rounded around to Zoya again. Being the good soldier she is, she ignored you. Your ears perked up and actually started listening as the trembling man confessed his ties with Zlatan, only then did your petty behavior pause momentarily.

'You put on a disguise. And you played at being assassin'

'That’s right.' You smiled at his concrete confession, having enough evidence now to use and to kill him. You thought back to the Inferni in the chapel as Arkin mentioned the Ketterdam thieves, did they do that too?

Aleksander turned his head to the side toward Zoya signaling for her to leave. You looked to Ivan and nodded in her direction, instantly assuming you were to stay. Ivan looked less than happy but obliged.

'And the dead Inferni in the chapel? Was that part of the thieves' plan?' You spoke up.

Arkin looked up at you with wide eyes 'That was not me, I swear. I can't be sure it was them either' You scoffed as his heartbeat remained steady indicating no lies. Great, I don't even have the murderer. Aleksander walked away from him, throwing a glance your way as he walked away too. You didn't need to be told what to do, you just did what you yearned to do the second you laid your eyes on the Conductor.

'Tell me how I can help' He shouted as you took a step back creating a distance.

'You already have.' Aleksander's voice echoed in the halls. You raised your hand with elegance and looked into the man's eyes one last time before his demise. Shadows pooled around your feet and fire enthralled the clothes on his back. The vein in his neck grew prominent as your other hand clenched into a fist. His shouts and screams were silent in your ears, a skill you had managed to master years ago to preserve your sanity.

'You don't mess with Grisha, Arkin.'

*****

Hours had passed and the work never stopped. Sleep was long forgotten that night. Aleksander was beside himself too, the search for Alina and the Stag weighed on him heavily, and now with the added search for Nina Zenik he hadn't slept a minute too. You needed to tell him about the Queen, as minutes ticked you cursed your cowardliness and fear. You were scared to tell him. You admitted it, but that fear was nothing in comparison to dread bubbling inside of you on how he would react.

Your steps were slow and lazy, the winter fete gown still on your body. There was a burn on the bottom of it from Polin, the twin sister of the dead Inferni. Upon telling the woman her brother was dead, her grief overcame her and momentarily had a mind of its own. You told her it was okay, but the smell of smoke still loomed around you like a reminder of the night.

Your frame was now in direct line of vision of the open door of Aleksander's study. Fedyor stood in the center of the room, his red kefta eerily similar to the roaring fire. You hesitated to walk in, but your feet dragged you in any way. Compared to Aleksander who'd been in the same predicament as you, you looked chaotic. Your once gorgeous gown was now dirty and burned gown, your hair falling down your shoulders in a tangled mess and the undereye bags contending with Aleksander's kefta. You looked like you'd been to hell and back. So when Fedyor cast a worried look at you on his way out, you simply shrugged and sat down in the chair, shoulder slacking and eyes drooping.

'I'm leading a team to search for the criminals at sundown, care to join?' He closed the doors and walked to a teapot, pouring a mug and handing it to you with a gentle kiss on your head. A sweet gesture but not sweet enough to push your worries aside.

'Aleksander sit down' It came out in a clipped tone and surprised him.

'What?

'Sit down' You waved your hand and the gust of wind pulled out the chair opposite you. Waiting until he sat down, you took your sip of the hot liquid. His body settled into the chair then his eyes studied your face too closely for your liking so you cleared your throat and turned your head away from him, suddenly feeling shy.

'I spoke with the Queen.'

'And?' He was alert and upright, leaning closer to you in an abrupt second. You blew out a breath and choked down the lump in your throat. You were most certainly not going to cry. You started ranting, letting your words run free and take over the panic in your mind.

'Ummmm, well it's definitely not what you think. It wasn't what I thought anyway. I thought maybe she would ask me to be her advisor or something I don't know bu-'

'Y/N what did she say?' He was growing impatient.

'She wants me to marry the Prince. Not just her, the King too.' You set down the hot mug and smoothed out the disaster of a dress on your lap. Your lips pulled down into a frown but you willed yourself not to cry. Don't cry.

'.....what?' His eyes were wide now, you could see his jaw clench.

'It didn't feel like a question. I think she has something on me.' You had been trying to push that thought away as hard as you could but you felt safe telling Aleksander. 'She didn't explicitly say it, but her words weren't kind or gentle. It wasn't a proposal. It felt like a 'do this or else' kind of situation' You played with the handle of the mug to distract yourself from his gaze and your urge to let the waterworks flow.

'I don't know what to do.' As if the burning in your throat wasn't enough, your steady voice cracked toward the end of that sentence, letting the first tear drip from your eye. You let go of the mug and crossed your arms against the table surface.

He didn't say anything just sat back in the chair, letting a hand through the softness of his black hair. Somewhere deep down you felt relief- relief that he wasn't jumping at the opportunity to marry you off.

'Are you sure? What would it be?'

'I can't be sure but I'm being careful. There's only one thing it can be' You let your head fall into your folded arms, shielding away from him in case the sobs you were holding back burst out of your seams. There was only ever one thing you had done that could be used against you and to this day it haunted your nightmares. The gruesomeness of it keeping you up at night.

'Did you give her an answer?'

'No.' The table shook as his fist came down on it harshly after a brief and stealthy silence.

'You're not doing it. No way' You heard his chair move back and his boots walk toward you. His hands came to pick your arms up off the table and haul you up to his height. All his attention was fixed on you. 'Did you hear me? No. I mean it. Don't do that to yourself.'

'It didn't seem like a choice Aleksander'

'Then make it one. Over my dead body are they going to take that away from you' His grip on your arms tightened as he spoke those words and you had no shadow of a doubt he meant them. You had your ups and downs together, but Aleksander rarely ever lied about things like this.

'You don't belong with them, you belong here in the Little Palace and you're not leaving again' His gaze was hot and intense, the anger and rage from the night building up and boiling over.

In that moment, Aleksander had snapped. The Crown was taking you away from him, just like they had done with Luda and countless others. He swore to protect you all those years ago and he was finally going to do right by you.

'I'm not letting that sobachka take you away from me.'

---------

Part 24

Masterlist

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!) @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb @grisha-of-shadow-bone @rosiethefairy @carlywhomever @allisjustok @keepdaydreamingbb @luciadiosa @azkahanif

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shades-of-stony · 3 years ago

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ABO Stony AUs! (Part 2)

As promised, here is part 2! [link to Part 1] I’m not sure if I’m gonna make part 3 but there are still a bit ABO fics left.

A King For Christmas by iam93percentstardust

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

What, Like It’s Hard? by JehBeeEh

Summary: Omega Tony Stark has it all, until his alpha boyfriend breaks his heart. In an effort to win him back, he follows the alpha of his dreams to Harvard Law School, where he discovers there might be more to being the first omega at the prestigious school. He also meets another alpha that might just make him forget the one he drove across the country for.

Two-Point Perspective by FestiveFerret for sabrecmc

Dear omega,

Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha #95847872 has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.

If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.

Sincerely, National Omega Services

I Love You (From the Bottom to the Top) by RomancebyFaye for Reioka

Summary: Steve and Tony have a great relationship. They may have only been dating for a few months, but the truth is, they had been in love for years before that. Their relationship is only getting better from adding this new intimacy and Steve is very satisfied with how open Tony is in the bedroom. He’s giving and generous, sometimes to a fault, just as he is with everything.

And then Steve comes home early and catches sight of something he wasn’t meant to see. The shock he gets from the sight of watching his alpha ride a toy might not have been meant for him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Now, if he can just figure out how to tell Tony how much he wants what he witnessed without putting his foot in his mouth…

Or Tony offers Steve something in the bedroom and Steve misunderstands the offer.

Until he doesn’t.

A Prime, Divided by avengersasssemble

Summary: Facing his and his infant son's possible death sentence, young prince Tony runs away to the only place where his father would dare not follow: the Northern Territories, known to house the most savage and brutal Alphas--including their bloodthirsty leader, the Prime Alpha. Forced to navigate fatherhood and diplomacy while being unable to speak the Northern language, Tony has to make decisions to save his son, even at his own expense.

Oversight by ShyOwl

Summary: It really wasn’t Steve’s fault that no one knew he was an omega.

I Love You 3000 by NazakiSama166

Summary: After the death of his husband, the only thing Steven Rogers could think of was going on and dying in one of his missions, and Steven was happy to get his wish.... that was until he woke up in a strange universe when people can shift into wolves and men can get pregnant... Oh, and did he mention that Tony was there too and was in love with his younger jackass self? And let's not forget about Peggy...

Life just loves to mess with him...

Dear Enemy by AvengersNewB

Summary: Alpha Steve and omega Tony are SHIELD agents who don't always see eye to eye, but some benefits on the side help them work things out in the most non-traditional way. Steve's jealousy after an unfortunate encounter with Ty Stone, however, makes things complicated.

Love Match by FestiveFerret

Summary: Tony had but one goal for the season: secure a marriage proposal from an alpha with the position and means enough to remove him from his father's house. Love was wholly irrelevant to the matter.

Stuck in a... by Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve gets into a serum-enhanced rut. Tony figures that there’d be a long list of people who’d volunteer to help Steve out, but there’s only one person Steve wants.

A Late-Night Snacks, and Other Good Ideas by Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve's heightened senses means that he always knows when Tony's in heat. One night, he finally does something about it.

citrus and lavender by JehBeeEh

Summary: Steve laid Tony on his bed as delicately as he could manage. Which was ridiculous because he knew, logically, that Tony was absolutely fine. JARVIS himself had told him. And that’s 100% why he had fought Natasha so hard on Tony not needing to go to medical when they came back, even though he probably could use the check up. Yup. That was definitely the only reason he had insisted on bringing Tony back to the penthouse. No other reason at all. If you keep this up, you just might start believing it, he thought to himself ruefully. Tony wasn’t his. He had made it very clear that he didn’t need some alpha in his life to mess with everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish. Especially not Steve Rogers.

Found Love in a Hopeless Place by crispybacon

Summary: Steve really, really did not want to tag along with his brother to the bar, no matter how many times the jerk nagged him that he needed to get laid. Just because Bucky’s known his Omega since kindergarten, and the pair have loud obnoxious sex in their shared small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean Steve needed to stick his knot in any Omega that looks his way.

That’s not the kind of Alpha Steve was.

Or, Steve goes to a bar and meets an Omega with a complicated past that changes his life forever.

This is Not a Drill by sabrecmc

Summary: “Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.

“Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.

“I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started.

“Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.”

“Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

Everybody's got a hungry heart. by Perlmutt for ShadowsintheClouds

Summary: Tony Stark has never experienced a true heat due to the suppressants he's taking on a daily basis. Society accepts him as a beta, together with his friends and teammates and the alpha he's secretly in love with. But some things are just too big to be kept hidden forever. An unfortunate turn of events forces Tony to reveal his biggest secret to the world...

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame for starksnack

Summary: In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye.

Apple Pie and Sunshine by betheflame, starksnack

Summary: Even though they've loved each other for years, Steve and Tony have each convinced themselves that their one-night-stand was a fluke. Thing is, it also resulted in Tony getting pregnant and as the birth approaches, perhaps it's time to use their words.

blue since the day we parted by funkyspacegirlfriend

Summary: When he's twenty, the man Tony thinks will be his alpha and mate walks away, leaving Tony with a gift he'll never regret.

The same alpha reappears fifteen years later in the form of SI's new military liaison.

In my Favorite Dreams (I feel your heat) by Corsets_and_Cardigans for wingheads

Summary: Steve is on his morning run in DC when a ghost from his past comes back into his life. And he's not alone. *** “Steve?” Sam’s voice cut through the veil of the past, the crushing weight of memory that stole his breath. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

His staring must have finally alerted another parent, a woman eyeing him warily while tugging on Tony’s sleeve until he turned around. His eyes were just as expressive and wide as they were ten years ago, piercing the cold morning air straight to Steve’s own.

“Tony.”

“Wait. Tony Tony? The Tony? The Tony that Bucky busts your chops over Tony?”

His voice cracked, wrent into pieces at seeing his omega who wasn’t his anymore, body flaring in pain. Years worth of aching denial like a hot fireplace poker to his soul. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, who’s the kid?”

The Couch by Perlmutt

Summary: Steve overstepped a mark, when he accidentally called Tony, his mate, tiny. Because his omega was very self-conscious when it came to his height. So he needed to show him that he thought Tony's perfect just the way he was, if he didn't want to sleep on the couch for the next week. Luckily Steve was the man with a plan...

be the summer in my heart by billyscissors

Summary: After Obadiah betrays the Southern Isles, he offers Omega Prince Anthony Stark as tribute to appease the Warlord of the North

#stony #stony fics #stony fanfic #steve and tony #stevetony #stevetony fanfic #stevetony fic rec #stevetony fic #stony fic #SUPERHUSBANDS #fic rec

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years ago

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The Raven Haired Rebel

Epilogue

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which Loki enjoys his new life with you. Chapter Warnings: none I believe A/N: Thanks for coming along this little journey with me. Having been unsure of this story myself, I’m overwhelmed by the positive feedback it’s been getting! Happy reading :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedficrecs @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163 @lokislittlesigyn @wolfish-trickster

RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake @electroma89 @stardust-walker @i-would-kneel-for-loki @fredweasleyandlokiaremylife @aestheticallyholland @loki-yoursaviourishere

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki would never understand why they Norns blessed him with you, but he’d be forever grateful they did. That instant connection, that irresistible pull hadn’t faded at all. It only grew stronger, and drove his fear it was fluke further and further away every day. The kisses definitely helped too.

Moving into your apartment with you felt rather natural after having stayed in the motels together. You fell right back into your pattern, teasing and caring for each other, both in the most tender of ways. Waking up next to you still made him flustered, but he loved how the first thing you’d do was plant a kiss on his lips. Then you’d snuggle close to him and let him hold you, making him feel important to be allowed to wrap his arms around you. You, who were the only one to believe him. Believe in him. Truly, you were one of a kind.

He started having nightmares again. It’d been a while, but after what happened at the AIM base, he was tormented again. Now with the thought of you crumpling today the ground, his dagger buried in your flesh. It’d been an illusion, a necessary one, yet it still haunted him. He never told you the exact content of the dreams, but those were the times he let you hold him instead of the other way around. You’d always whisper sweet things in his ear until he calmed.

Right now you were snuggling on your couch, his arm around your waist while your head rested in the crook of his neck. He read a book as the TV played in the background, having grown accustomed to your habit and learned to tune out the noise. It was rather domestic, and Loki had been almost surprised to find out he liked it. Then again, any time spent with you was bound to be perfect, wasn’t it?

Today was your day off from work at the Avengers Tower. Loki would have been more than able to provide for the both of you, but you insisted that you wanted another job. As soon as Tony heard, he’d offered you one where you would help him figure out tech in the lab and monitor threats. Reluctantly, Loki had become friends with the man during the times he’d go and visit you at work.

Admittedly, the friendship was beneficial to Loki in more ways than one. During his time on the run, stopping crimes and saving people, he found he quite like helping others. You’d helped him find some charities he wanted to work with, and now he was establishing his own. With the help of Stark Industries, of course. They’d agreed almost immediately on helping kids in need, especially those who needed to be adopted or were in foster care. Loki had never much thought he’d want to raise a child of his own, but now he was wondering if he wanted to adopt. He’d mention it to you someday, but only if he was sure.

“Hey, Loki?” you said, breaking the comfortable silence between you, a smile already forming on your lips.

He put his book down immediately, giving you his full attention. Your eyes were still closed as you rested against him, and he took the opportunity to admire your beauty. “Yes, darling?”

“Have I told you yet today that I love you?”

The god chuckled. “Yes, you mentioned it.”

“Well, I’m telling you again anyway.” You finally lifted your head and looked him in his piercing blue-green eyes, cupping his cheek. “I love you.”

“And I you,” he replied, heavy emotion in his voice and shining eyes. “So, so much.”

He relished in the feel of your lips as you kissed him again. For a while he’d worried that he’d fallen for you to fast, that soon you’d not want him anymore, and he’d be heartbroken. Honestly, he still did sometimes. But it was in moments like this that those thoughts dissipated completely. The way you were pushing all the love you felt through to him by way of your connected lips, it made him feel reassured. Safe. You’d never doubted him, and that was so rare for someone like Loki.

Loki repositioned your bodies so he was over you, pecking little kisses along your jaw while you caught your breath. Just when he was about to recapture your lips, your computer chimed. You both sighed, but knew you had to check it in case Tony had blown something up in the lab and needed help again. Your brows knit together as you looked at the screen.

“Everything alright, darling?” he asked, peering over your shoulder at an encrypted message.

“There’s only one person I know who sends messages like that.”

And indeed, you were right; it was Fury. You and the trickster god read the message as you quickly sorted out the code. You were both being called in for another mission, despite having narrowly escaped being locked up. It was top secret, but he simply needed your talents for the case.

You turned to Loki with a smirk on your face. “What do you say? Ready to be done being rebel once and for all, and work with the law?”

“Perhaps,” he responded, pulling you back onto his lap “Though I still plan on doing things my own way.”

“I know,” you said. “And that’s why I love you.”

Before you could reply to the director, Loki began kissing you again, finishing what you’d started earlier. And for once in his life he didn’t care how anyone else saw him. Not when he had you. Not when he was finally perfectly and completely happy.

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snapdragon-mina · 4 years ago

Text

Enchanted Pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x GN!Reader

A/N: UHHHHH, here's my late entry for ✨the newest✨ POCuties Sever Collab Based on the movie version of Ella Enchanted

Warnings: No beta we die like men, a couple swear words here and there, mentions of death, attempted murder, and this is a Crack fic treated seriously. Part 2 will be out within a few hours of this.

Word Count: 2.8k

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

----------------❌----------------

It all starts with a baby. A beautiful baby named (y/n) was born into a comfortable family. This baby cried a lot, wanting to be held by their mother constantly. She took good care of her baby alongside kiyoko, a household fairy. Everything worked out beautifully until a particular fairy godmother appeared. As desperately as the mother and kiyoko tried, they could not hide the baby from Satori (the only fairy godfather who gave god awful gifts).

As much as Satori tried to quiet the baby's crying, it would not stop. This gave him the perfect idea for a gift. He gave the child the "gift" of obedience. (y/n) would not be able to disobey a command given to them no matter what. Kiyoko absolutely hated the gift that Satori gifted the baby and begged him to take it back but he refused.

Despite the gift they were given, (y/n) grew up to be strong willed and determined. Once they discovered a girl being bullied for something as stupid as a name, they quickly took to standing up for her. The girl introduced herself as Yachi and they became best friends very quickly.

When (y/n) discovered the gift, they asked for Kiyoko to take it away, only to be told that she couldn't. But despite this, (y/n) always fought against the gift whenever they could.

When (y/n) was still a child, their mother grew very ill. As she laid in her bed, she told (y/n) to never reveal their gift to anyone. She didn't want her child to be taken advantage of. Before she passed away, she gave them her necklace to remember her by.

----💫----

Getting dressed, (y/n) put on their mother's necklace only to be interrupted by none other than Kiyoko. "(Y/n), your father wants to speak to you." She said before taking her leave.

(y/n) walked to their father's study only to receive shocking news.

"What?! You're married??"

"Look, she has money. It was either marry her or sell the house. She has two sons, so there's no doubt she's a wonderful mother-figure." He let out a sigh before continuing. "I'm sure you'll all be the best of friends, just... give them all a chance."

The next morning, three people arrived in a carriage. They were *not* pleased at the sight of the house.

(y/n)'s father greeted the three with a warm smile and two kisses to the woman's cheeks. "Welcome, my dear. These must be your sons?"

She nodded with a fake smile. "Yes, this is my dear Tooru, and my... other son, Tobio." The brunette just stared while the black haired one did an exaggerated bow. Just as this occurred, (y/n) walks out of the house to meet the three new people who were supposedly living with them now.

"You must be (y/n)." The woman said, giving them a once over. (y/n) bowed and greeted them with a polite "pleased to meet you."

After a short, awkward pause, the woman returned her attention to the father. "You have a wonderful home, but I recall you saying that you had a castle." she hissed out.

He shook his head. "No no, you must be mistaken, I said "A man's home is his castle"."

While their father and the lady talked, (y/n) introduced themselves with a smile only to be almost completely ignored.

Inside the house, the two brothers began setting up. Tooru putting up posters of a prince while Tobio explained.

"Tooru's president of Prince Tetsu's fan club." They grinned at each other only for their faces to fall into a scowl when (y/n) spoke.

"You must be aware that Tetsurou and his uncle are responsible for the segregation of the kingdom, right?"

With a judging look, Tooru spoke. "so? He's hot."

After looking around a bit the two were getting increasingly displeased with their surroundings. A small room, damn near nonexistent closet space, etc. "This won't work." The brunette spoke in a clearly disgusted tone. "We'll use yours. Show it to us."

Unable to disobey the command, (y/n) led them towards their room. Tooru narrowed his eyes and seemed to file that bit of information for later. Upon reaching the room, He was immediately disgusted. "It looks awful. There isn't any room here either. We're throwing out some of your clothes."

"what?! No. Get out of my closet." They went to attempt to force him away only for him to immediately demand that you get away from him.

As they backed up, He noticed the necklace and demanded that it be given to him. Unfortunately, (y/n) was forced to hand over the necklace.

Not a moment later, (y/n)'s father announced his business trip. They needed money and his work was the only thing keeping them afloat.

----💫----

During a heated debate in class is when Tooru figured it out. They'd been debating on whether king Kei had been a fair ruler or not. (y/n) was vehemently arguing in favor that he was not. He'd enslaved every other race and forced them to work in little stereotyped boxes. He'd made laborers and entertainers out of anyone non human. (y/n) *hated* it.

Tooru, on the other hand, thought that he was a wonderful ruler. He gave us free enterprises, humans don't have to work hard at things that *they* should be doing. They disagreed and when (y/n) insulted the prince. Tooru demanded that they apologize and admit they're wrong and when (y/n) did, it all clicked. (Y/n) couldn't obey a single command they were given.

----⭐----

"Do I really have to go to this mall opening?" Tetsurou asked his uncle as they sat inaide of an extremely expensive looking carriage.

"As heir to the throne, it's your responsibility. You're a public figure. You have to be seen." Kei told him simply.

"Yeah but you're the one in charge."

"Not for long. Your coronation is next week and you need to be out there with your people, Tetsu."

Seated next to Kei was Tadashi, who was something like Kei's closest companion. You would rarely ever see Kei without Tadashi.

Kei advised Tetsurou that keeping a good public image builds trust within a kingdom before telling him of the things that where apparently going on within the kingdom.

Of giants and ogres wanting to rebel against them and take them down but none of this sounded right to him.

"The giants have always been peaceful." Tetsurou said, confused as to why he was being told otherwise.

"The ogres were once peaceful as well. Until they killed your father in cold blood." His voice held a certain edge to it. "Before your father's gruesome death, I promised him that if anything happened to him, I would take care of you and the kingdom." Pushing up his glasses, a glare formed on the glass, shielding his eyes from view. "I have kept my promise, haven't I?"

Tetsurou remained silent for the rest of the ride, turning to face the window instead of his uncle.

----💫----

(Y/n) sat in the crowd next to Yachi, surrounded by hundreds of adoring fans of the prince as king Kei made an announcement.

"Thank you. It's wonderful to be in your... charming town of... Frell. Prince Tetsurou and I-" He was immediately cut off by the sounds of hundreds of people screaming at the mere mention of the prince's name. Kei decided to get the announcement done and over with. "And now it's with great pleasure that I introduce Prince Tetsurou."

Screams broke out again as the prince stepped into view. He waved as he walked out.

This was their cue.

Immediately, (y/n) and Yachi stood up on a fountain holding banners that read Say No To Ogrecide! and Stop Giant Land Grab!. The began chanting these words at the prince, catching his attention.

Tooru did not like this. He immediately ran over to the two protesting. "You're embarrassing us!" he hissed. "Go Home. Now."

Immediately, (y/n) began apologizing to Yachi as they left her there.

----⭐----

"Prince Tetsu, are you a fast runner?" A girl in the front asked him. He shook his head with a smile.

"Not really, why?" He immediately regretted those words. Because as soon as they left his mouth, the crowd charged at him; forcing him to flee.

He ran as quickly as he could until he ran into someone walking down a pathway. Quickly, he pulled them down and behind a stone wall.

"Prince Tetsurou."

"Please, call me Tetsu..." He trailed off, looking at the person he had just pulled down. "Sorry about that." He attempted to help them up, only to immediately be shot down.

"I don't need your chivalry and I definitely don't intend on bowing to you, either." They dusted themselves off and began walking away.

"Bow or not, that's your choice. Can't really do much about that other than have you beheaded, but that's a bit too much" he joked.

"Charming. Why don't you do what your people usually do? Steal my land and destroy my livelihood. Now if you'll excuse me." They continued walking away only to be forcefully stopped by him commanding them to wait and come back.

Groaning, (y/n) turned around and walked back to him, standing directly in front of him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"(Y/n) of Frell."

"(Y/n)... You're one of the first people I've met that hasn't immediately melted at the sight of me." He sounded astonished.

"It might've done you some good." They rolled their eyes and went to turn around and leave again.

Tetsurou paused and looked offended. "Wait, I've never stolen anyone's land nor their livelihood. I want peace in the kingdom as much as anyone."

(y/n) turned around with a scowl on their face. "So you have a new plan once you take the crown?"

"Well... Sorta... I can't reveal it though."

They scoffed in his face. "Yeah, thought so. Y'know you're all the same. You care more about your fancy club and next jousting tournament."

"I- well I've never been comfortable with having a fanclub. In fact... Your obvious hatred of me is kinda refreshing." He grinned.

"Obvious? I was trying so hard to hide it." They rolled their eyes and continued on their walk home. As they were walking they suddenly remembered leaving their bag. Any attempt to go retrieve it was immediately stopped by a simple "wait right there."

They were stuck in place as Tetsu rushed back to get it. Unfortunately, a carriage was rushing towards them. They called out his name but was only saved as they were inches away from getting hit.

"Are you insane?! Why didn't you move?" Tetsurou asked.

"Yeah... I would've... were it not for your apparent fascination with knocking me to the ground." They sat up. "This is the second time today."

"Yeah well I'll try to be more considerate next time you're about to get ran over."

"What makes you think we'll see each other again?" They raised an eyebrow.

"Won't we?" he asked.

"Nope."

Before much else could be said, Tooru stood in the middle of the path, seething. "Get over here."

Immediately, (y/n) got up and walked over.

"Shouldn't you be at home cleaning the fireplace?" Tooru let out a forced laugh before whispering to them. "Stop flirting. I'm going to be at his coronation."

"Yeah in the center of the table with an apple in your mouth." They muttered in response.

"Go back to the mall with Tobio."

(y/n) stormed off with Tobio in tow as Tooru stayed back to try to flirt with his royal highness.

----💫----

At the mall, (y/n) met back up with Yachi. "Where were you?" the girl asked. (y/n) explained their meeting with the prince and went on to say that Tobio and Tooru were there.

"Why do you always do what Tooru tells you to?" She asked.

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Tell the truth."

"Guess I do..."

A moment later the two were spotted by Tobio and Tooru. "(Y/n). take that for me." Tooru asked, pointing towards something on a stand. The moment they took it, something lit up in Tobio's eyes. It quickly devolved into demanding them to steal various items against their will until they got caught taking a pair of glass slippers.

It resulted in (y/n) getting chased throughout the mall by a guard.

----💫----

The moment their new step mother learned that (y/n) had been arrested for theft, she flew into exaggerated hysterics. "A felon in my own home!" she cried.

Kiyoko immediately came to their defense. "They were probably put up to it. The (y/n) I know, would never do this." She glared at the brothers. However, as Tooru looked out the window, He got an idea.

"Kiyoko's right, we were there. They were forced to and it isn't poor (y/n)'s fault at all." He sighed to his mother, leaving (y/n) and kiyoko confused.

"So, Who put you up to it?" The woman demanded as she looked away.

A devious smirk graced Tooru's face. "Tell her it was Yachi." He whispered.

"Y-" They quickly covered their mouth but that wasn't enough. "Yachi."

Kiyoko closed her eyes and let out a sigh. The woman immediately forbade (y/n) from ever speaking to them again.

It was then that Yachi approached the door with the intent to ask (y/n) about what had happened at the mall. (y/n) was forced to answer the door and tell their best and only friend that they never want to see her again.

Later that day, (y/n) cried to Kiyoko about how awful the experience was until they came to the conclusion that they absolutely had to find the fairy that cursed them and Kiyoko offered something that would help them.

She held a book in her hands and present it to to them.

"I'm not... The most talented fairy... But this book is my boyfriend, Ryuu..."

The book was a light pink and gold with a magic mirror in the center. It showed a face in it and the moment he was revealed, he greeted (y/n).

"I've never seen anyone like it."

"Well, It was an accident. I wanted to practice a spell that would trim his hair since it had grown out, but it... didn't go well. So now he's in a book." Kiyoko explained.

Kiyoko allowed (y/n) to take Ryuu along with them on their journey.

----💫----

They walked through a forest, holding Ryuu in their hands when they heard screams. An elf was stuck to a spinning wheel as a couple of people threw darts at him. The elf told them to kick their asses and they did just that.

He began commentating as they fought off the guys and eventually, they won the fight with the men retreating.

Immediately (y/n) helped the elf down and checked on them quickly. Fortunately, the elf was completely uninjured.

"I'm Shoyo!"

"I'm (y/n). Nice to meet you. Now if you're okay, it was nice to meet you but I have to leave."

That didn't sit well with Shoyo. He immediately began arguing and trying to convince them to eat with him until he succeeded. Convinced that (y/n) wouldn't make it through the woods alone.

Eventually they made it to a bar in an Shoyo's home town with only a minor distraction.

Inside of the bar, they both sat down to eat and so (y/n) decided to ask a question. "Why don't you like music?"

"Right because all Elves are supposed to love singing and dancing. I wanna be an athlete, not an singer or dancer."

(Y/n) nodded sympathetically. "Yeah I understand that. I'd forgotten all about the laws that restrict elves from being anything other than singers and other occupations like that."

----💫----

After convincing Shoyo to come with them, (y/n) walked alongside him calmly until they were caught up with a couple of ogres. (y/n) tried to convince the ogres that that they were on their side only for that to backfire horribly and end up with them being steadily lowered into a pot with Shoyo tied to a tree.

Extremely conveniently, Prince Tetsurou found them and fought off the ogres, freeing (y/n) and Shoyo. He backed one of them against a tree with a sword pointed at the ogre's neck. "Are you one of the monsters that killed my father?"

The ogre looked confused. "What? No no, you've got it all wrong. King Koutarou was a good man! We lived in peace during his reign, why would we ever want to kill him?"

Tetsurou pulled the sword away from the ogre but didn't seem to believe his words. "Leave. Find breakfast somewhere else."

The ogres agreed and quickly left the area. Tetsurou turned towards (y/n). "What are you doing here w with an elf for protection? Do you get off to near death experiences or something?"

"No. I had things under control." They lied.

"Yeah, sure you did. I see the score stands Chivalry: 2, Gratitude: 0." He said, back facing them.

They apologized and thanked him for the help before cleaning dressing a wound he'd gotten from protecting them.

"So... Where are you heading?"

"A giant's wedding. I have to meet my godfather."

"That's on the way back to me home, I'll come with."

"No thanks."

"Too bad."

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iamcompletelyrandom · 4 years ago

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// TCF CHAPTER 644 - 688 SPOILERS

what if the reason the disguised hilsman suspiciously smiled when saying that he wasnt apart of the thames household / his last name wasnt thames is because thames wasnt always the original name of the household or something??

(that would explain why he smiled even when saying that he isnt involved yet saying so much about cale’s mother.. i do not think he is lying or would lie so pointlessly, no him and ron are too alike in that, but enough to be twisting the question? absolutely.)

if not then we do know he is also somehow related to the thames household, judging from his hatred towards hunters and how closely hes talked about cale’s birth mother

cale also mentioned that he wasn’t white star, but also not someone he has met before, yet still friendly to him and deruth, as well as loyal people serving the henituse family (but not to violan, judging from the way he tried to grab her neck once he was discovered)

actually speaking of their conversation together, he talked about the henituse values from an outsiders perspective but was suprisingly knowledgeable about it, not only that but talked about the duchess position and not violan herself... does he have familiarity with it, or is he just knowledgable?

not only that but being able to take down a vice captain and capture him as well as notice when someone is watching him, he isnt hostile either and seems.. old? from violans perspective... and he was able to notice (or atleast know beforehand) that deruth was replaced with white star before cale and violan were... (either familiar with deruth enough to notice or familiar enough with white star to notice/know) (679)

he was smiling as he looked towards the diary too... does he know what it means? does he recognize it?

he is related to the thames, but he is not a hunter nor have the a power similar to annual rings of life (judging from the way he talked about cale’s mother with cale, he either doesnt know that cale is a transmigiator/regressor or simply does not care enough. however judging from the way he did not ask cale who he was in cale’s body like drew did in her diary, or expose who he was in front of on and hong, or say that his time is warped like some white thing, im going to assume it is the first option)

... or perhaps maybe hes the eldest orabuni that young drew thames mentioned during the trial for the annual rings of life

“– I have this weird feeling that I will like you even though we just met! You oddly look like that half-witted fool Deruth, but you also look similarly handsome as my eldest orabuni!” (664)

(and we all know how important the things that the ancient powers’ trials’s say go) (looking at you fire of destruction and shield)

that would explain why he mentioned that deruth might be able to recognize who he is and point him out, (why ever else might deruth know him if he is not either extended family or friends to his late wife? maybe relying on similarity as sibling?) (also what does he want to say to deruth? something so important that hes faked and disguised himself coincidently when white star was running around? (and more importantly was it related to thames and the research and information the household was doing, especially with white star as a reincarnator?)

not to mention why hes so familiar to cale’s late mother (clumsy like his mother, matching scary smiles mean something bad is about to happen (and mentioning these habits was when his mother was in her youth? clearly he was close to her)) (688)

maybe atleast a family member then perhaps? maybe a relative if not the older brother.. or maybe a bestfriend (unlikely. he judged that cale definitely had thames blood.)?

...but wait..

wasnt it said that drew was the last and only surviving decendent of the thames household, which is said to have perished once she married deruth and decided not to continue the household..?

if thats so.. where exactly did her elder brother go?

(when you say eldest do you think that maybe there could be more then one older brother? or is that a translation taken wrongly..?)

AND WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

EXCUSE ME??? HELLO???

BECAUSE IM KINDA (NOT REALLY) TRYING TO READ THE LINES BETWEEN WHAT SHES SAYING HERE AND I DONT LIKE THIS

so shes saying that a group of people want to hunt the souls of people (and perferably of those that might be young and weak) and somehow couldve ended with something bad going on..?

and apparently the thames household has massacured or “used” all of these people to the point where its been “resolved” and hunters will no longer appear..?

and somehow, the red light (the light from the annual rings of life ancient power flowing into drew’s diary) is the same light of that dorph managed to identify of a person that taught him how to not only use the darkness element, but also hunt darkness elementals (667)

THE HELL DOES THIS IMPLY??

drew has the exact same “light” (the element of present and innate fate? time? or something more?) to the (presumed) hunter (THAT I THINK IS HONESTLY STILL ALIVE, MIND YOU) that hunted down darkness elementals who possessed a red light (but did not absorb it? ancient powers get absorbed right?)

she also commented that the annual rings of life (which allowed people to see the time around all living things (including people whos time is warped), as the annual rings of a tree) “needed to be apart of the Thames household to use this power properly” - (665)

while thankfully it means that white star wouldnt know how to use it either (judging from not being able to tell how time is warped besides that it is for cale and choi han), it also leaves some very interesting context for WHY THE HELL WOULD A HUNTER HAVE THIS POWER THEN??

LIKE?? IT WOULD MAKE SENSE FOR A THAMES TO HAVE IT BUT THE FALSE HILSMAN DIDNT SEEM TO HAVE IT EITHER

...so if the thames were so adament about fighting against hunters who used the souls of non-reincarnating / single lifers, why is the records and the research all full of how to destroy all of those with a “warped” time.. including those single lifers...

and depending on how detailed the information on the annual ring of life is on how to eliminate such beings.. wouldnt that mean that the thames has been studying that too alongside it..?

but when the other hunter got its “red light” while the fake hilsman didnt have make sense... unless.. the hunters were originally to have it and the thames “used” them or “resolved” or took it from them for their resea-

...im sure that that is not the case.. yeah.. that couldnt ever be the case..

this seems like seriously complicated stuff... i feel like there are chills on my back and im having lemon tea for some reason... and whatever happened made the thames going to a baron to a fallen noble... haha oh dear..

...at the very least, we can count on having his highness crown prince alberu to tell us what happens once he asks the king! yeah! im sure its nothing big to worry about and it would all be revealed in due time, theres no need to worry about that kind of stuff!

#trash of the count's family #lout of count’s family #tcf #disclaimer that this is literally all just speculation and i actually have no idea whats going on im just bsing whatever is on my mind rn #is there a spoiler type tag or whatever i could use for this? idk man its my first post here #i lowkey have no idea what im talking about but im going to pretend i do incase it all gets revealed later so i can laugh at myself #nevermind the freaking fact that raon’s present time element is a counter to fate because oh god thats totally foreshadowing to something #also im so sorry if half of the things i say looks like a clusterfrick of tumblr tags half the time #i cant wait for all of this to be revealed tho because clearly somethings going on here and i cant wait until it shows up in the future

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easily-infatuated23 · 4 years ago

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The Tub: Draco Malfoy x Reader

a/n: this is my first one of these so sorry if it sucks but here goes nothing!

Part Two Here

warnings: just some light fluff, small mention of bullying

summary: reader is having a really hard day and when she goes to relax in the prefects bathroom the unexpected occurs

word count: 2k

The castle is enormous. So enormous that getting lost becomes part of my daily routine. But sometimes, its so crushingly small it's hard to find a place to be alone to get away from the constant noise of what feels like hundreds of middle and high school students. Everyone’s first choice of escape is the astronomy tower, so much so that a Ravenclaw tried to institute a sign up sheet as to insure the crowds wouldn’t mass as much. They were unsuccessful. The truly hidden places of the castle are few and far between and for those of us who aren’t lucky enough to find the Room of Requirement, we must get creative. The most recent spot I have found is the Prefect’s bathroom on the sixth floor. Moaning Myrtle will sometimes float through but we are on good terms so she generally will leave me alone.

As a Seer, the noise of the world is extra loud in my head. It's bad enough to have the regular noise, but the passing through of others’ thoughts is exhausting. I have gotten better at shielding myself but it takes a lot of energy. The Prefect’s bathroom has been a wonderful solution because within the chamber is a large bathtub which I use as a jacuzzi, to relax and reset. I am just so tired. The added layer of being Seer as well as a non pure-blood in Slytherin, takes its own individual toll. My family had been pure-blood until my parents. My mother had married a muggle man.

I started late in the sequence of years at Hogwarts. My family moved from America to England which meant I transferred into school third year. For a while people were interested in me but that died down within the first month. However, when I let my family heritage slip, I became as talked about as Harry Potter. As a descendant of Merlin himself, people began to attempt to get close to me just for the idea of “fame” rubbing off onto them. Harry and I have had discussions about it together but I know he secretly enjoys it, even if he doesn’t know he does.

Today wasn’t just any typical Thursday. The excitement for Christmas break was buzzing around the castle, practically inescapable. The world was loud and I was tired. Luckily, today is a short day so I was able to escape to the Prefect’s bathroom after lunch. I usually waited until I knew most of the castle was either at a meal or doing homework but today the world had been especially loud. I tentatively filled the tub checking my surroundings for a stray ghost or student. Once it was full I climbed in and allowed myself to fully relax. The noise melted away and it was like I could finally breathe.

After only fifteen short minutes I heard footsteps and looked up to see the last person I would expect or want to see, Draco Malfoy. The Prince of pure-blood Slytherin, the cruelest person within the castle besides Professor Snape. He had never gone out of his way to be mean to me in particular, but if one of his buddies started something he would be sure to join in. When people found out about my abilities, I had been forced to read him in front of practically the whole school. I saw such pain and fear in his life that I nearly passed out. To prove to him that my abilities were real, he told me to tell him something from his past only he would know. I said “a talking diary and a ripped page from a bookstore”. Ever since then, he never challenged me again. And yet here he was now, invading my hidden corner, my escape from everyone.

We locked eyes as he walked in and we both froze. “What are you doing in here?” he asked sharply. I didn’t reply but simply began to get out and grab my things when his voice interrupted my actions. “I’m not gonna make you leave I was just asking. You looked dreadful during Potions today, are you ok?”. For the first time, his words and his tone matched and seemed genuine. “Everyone has been really loud today. Let's just say that if I never hear the sentence ‘is he gonna ask me to the Yule Ball’ again it will be too soon” I remarked. He chuckled and looked down at his shoes. I now became acutely aware of the fact that I was standing in front of him in just a bikini in a steamy room. My cheeks flushed and I slipped back into the tub. “Why are you in here Draco?” I asked. He looked up at me and sighed. “This is usually where I come to hide but I got here a bit later than usual, I didn’t think there was competition for this spot”. I frowned and looked away from him. “Yeah that’s my bad, I usually am in here much later in the day. It’s just been such a loud day already. I needed to decompress earlier than usual”. He walked closer to me, then circled the tub to sit on the window sill. After a few minutes he spoke. “Does it actually help quiet the world? To sit in there I mean”. He gestured to the tub. “Yes it does actually”. I replied.

This was the weirdest but nicest conversation I had ever had with him. I had never been fully alone with Draco before, was this how he was when he was removed from his asshole friends? In a moment of impulsive thought I blurted “You are welcome to join me if you’d like”. Shit. Why did I say that? This guy is literally the worst. “Wouldn’t that just add noise in your head?” he asked. “No, when its a group of ten or less I can actually turn everybody off quite easily. Anymore then that and it gets harder and harder”. He nodded and then looked out the window. I could see his mind working through his grey eyes, deciding if he would stay or go. Finally, he shrugged. “What the hell”. He kicked his shoes off and began to loosen his tie. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t help myself watch him undress. I finally looked away and closed my eyes, relaxing my head on the edge of the tub.

The tub was big enough around that he could sit on the other side and we wouldn’t touch. The water churned as he got it. He sat closer to me than I had anticipated but I tried not to think about it as I took a deep breath and let my mind wander. “This is surprisingly relaxing”. His voice for the first time didn’t sound as strained or coarse as normal. “How did you find out about this?” he asked. I opened my eyes and looked at him, puzzled. “Have you never been in a jacuzzi?”. He shook his head. “Wow well that’s one thing wizards should definitely adopt from the muggle world” I replied, with a smile. He looked away from me quickly. Was that a hint of blush coming from his cheeks? Probably just from the heat of the water I rationalized. “Do you do this everyday?” he asked. “At least once a week. It's good for the soul”.

There was then a long period of silence. At first the silence was uncomfortable, but the longer it persisted, the more comfortable it became. A couple times I could have sworn that the water churned in a way that would indicate him moving closer to me. I didn’t dare check. I kept my eyes closed as the odd smile would flow across my face without thought. When I finally did open my eyes, he was less than two feet away from me. We locked eyes and I smiled. He gave a timid smile back before looking away again. I wanted to use my abilities to slip into his mind and hear what he was thinking but I held myself to a strict rule. “This seems like a pretty necessary time to use it” the voice in my head remarked. I physically shook my head to expel that thought from my mind. I felt his eyes on me. “I wasn’t inside your head by the way. I thought about it but decided that didn’t hold up with my rule so I shook it out of my head”. “You can if you want” he replied. I looked at him and sat up a bit. “My rule is I only purposefully do it if absolutely necessary or if the person gives me permission or asks me to do it. Are you asking me Draco?”.

The words flowed out of my mouth before I could filter them. Was that flirty? Did I just flirt with Draco? The thoughts swirled in my head only to be broken by his response. “Yes I am” he said sincerely. “Can I have your hand? It’s easier if I have physical contact”. I said. He nodded and stared into my eyes as I moved closer to him. I clasped his hand and imagined his energy and thoughts flowing into my brain. His head was relatively quiet, besides one thought practically screaming. I opened my eyes and looked into his, stunned. “What was I thinking?” he asked in almost a whisper. I swallowed hard. “You were thinking ‘is it wrong that all I want to do is kiss her’”. I felt my cheeks turn red but I didn’t break eye contact. “Is it?” he asked. “No” I replied, unaware that a smile had crept across my face. He smiled back as his eyes darted from my eyes to my lips and back. I moved his hand which I was still holding to my cheek. His free hand moved underwater to my lower back as he pulled me onto his lap. Our faces were so close together I could feel his breath. He moved his other hand to my waist as I cupped his cheeks with mine. In a tender moment, not overly embroiled with passion or lust, we kissed. It was innocent and sweet. It made everything else seem unimportant. It was as if time slowed to a stand still. After a few moments we both pulled away and shared a smile that became a laugh. “I can honestly say this is not how I thought my day was going to go” Draco chuckled. “Me neither” I added. Suddenly a thought popped into my head. “Wait what time is it?” I asked. He checked his watch. “Two o’clock, why?”. “Damn, I promised I would meet Ron for a game of wizard’s chess. I always beat him but he insists on constantly challenging me”. I started to pull away when I noticed his face drop slightly. I pulled close to him again. “I am not making up an excuse to run away from you. Believe me I don’t want to go but if I don’t Ron will come looking for me and this would be a hard situation to explain” I remarked with a chuckle. His face picked up a little. “Are you staying here over Christmas?”. “Yes I am” I replied. “I think I will too, I’ve recently started to fancy you and I kinda want to explore this without the pressure of the whole school being here, if that’s ok with you” he smiled. “I would like that”. “But for the moment we can’t tell anyone what happened here or that we are even friends” he remarked suddenly. “It’s not my favorite reputation to uphold but if my father finds out I am seeing or being seen with someone who is not a pure-blood..” he trailed off. I pulled his face close to mine again and looked deep into his eyes. “You don’t have to explain. Remember, when I read you two years ago? I saw all of your past. I understand why”. His eyes were sadder now but he still managed a small smile. “Ok now I really have to go” I said as I kissed him one more time before climbing out of the tub. He watched me as I changed back into my uniform, smiling a bit more smugly now. “When can I see you again?” he called after me as I walked towards the door. “Friday night, let’s meet in the common room. Everyone will be gone for Christmas by then”. “Its a date!”. I turned back and blew him a kiss which he caught and immediately pressed to his lips. My heart fluttered as I jogged to the Great Hall. “Oi, where’ve you been?” Ron questioned impatiently. “Sorry, got a bit caught up” I remarked, smiling at the secret Draco Malfoy and I now shared.

#draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x reader #harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy x reader #hogwarts #harry potter au #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ron weasley #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #tom felton

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years ago

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Playing with Fire – Ch. 6

Leaving the village doesn't go as well as Marinette had hoped.

Read on Ao3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Luka grunted as he shouldered the many bags Sabine had given them full of food and clothing and trinkets from Marinette’s childhood. Those were carefully packed in the bottom of the one bag Luka let her carry. “Protected for the journey,” Sabine had said with a twinkle in her eye that was aimed squarely at Marinette.

“It’s just the walk to the tower,” Luka had grumbled at first, trying to tell Sabine that she needn’t have bothered and Jagged could get them supplies when he came through. He’d even offered to make trips more often in case they went through their food faster than they expected. Sabine hadn’t even answered him, just handed him another bag and kissed them both on the cheeks as she ushered them back out the door and she winked at Marinette behind Luka's back.

Marinette was thankful they were leaving after the sun had gone down; Luka didn’t seem to notice her embarrassed flush. Her mom wasn’t exactly being subtle. But it was a relief to know that she supported Marinette’s idea to try to find Luka’s family, even if it meant they might not be back to visit for a long time.

As she thought, she played with the stone at her neck, watching Luka’s blue fire play over her fingers. It wouldn’t be easy. She’d talked about some logistics with Sabine so she had a plan when she was ready to tell Luka about it. The first step was mastering sharing the fire without the use of the stones so he could remain in dragon form as long as he needed during the day. How would they even start with that? So far the stones had been the most reliable way to keep them stable, but without them they still switched back and forth according to the time of day and if they were touching or not. Which wasn’t ideal for a long-term journey like the one she had in mind.

She snuck a glance at him. He was walking beside her quietly, more at ease it seemed than the first time they’d walked through town, but definitely trying to deflect attention. The only thing drawing eyes to him right now was the fact that he looked like an overloaded cart horse.

“Luka, I can carry some of that,” Marinette offered as he shifted the weight across his shoulders again. He smirked sideways at her and pointed to his chest.

“Dragon,” he said, then tapped his finger on the crown of her head. “Human.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked, her tone slipping into a defensive pout. He chuckled and shook his head, taking two of the bags off easily and handing them over. Two of the lighter ones, she happened to notice, but since he’d at least compromised she didn’t say anything about it.

“Nothing. It’s just…” He glanced sideways at her and adjusted the bags on his shoulders again. “I don’t know, maybe it’s in my nature to want to protect you or something.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, a habit she realized she was picking up from him. The realization made her blush and she hid her face by looking at her feet as she tried desperately to come up with anything else to talk about.

“Um, you know, in those books,” she started nervously, fiddling with her stone still, “it said dragons liked to… well, you know, collect things. And they were very protective over whatever they collected.”

“Gold, usually,” Luka agreed.

“Right, so maybe…” Her heart sank to her toes as she thought it. “Maybe I’m just kind of part of your collection now.”

His fingers wrapped around her wrist to stop her from hurrying away from him. When she turned to face him, his eyes seemed to blaze in the fading light, intent on her, and his jaw was set in determination.

“Or maybe you’re someone I treasure.”

Before she could help it, her eyes flicked to his stone. It was thrumming red in time with his heartbeat, which was faster than normal, and she was sure hers was, too. She opened her mouth to respond, but a voice calling her name behind her cut her off.

“Marinette!” Adrien called again, and then a different hand was pulling her away from Luka, shielding her from him. She saw the pain flicker across his face before he smoothed it over and became the beautiful prince she’d met the first night at the tower. An indifferent marble mask. She pushed against Adrien, trying to get back to Luka, but Adrien’s grip on her was firm.

“Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his narrowed eyes trained on Luka.

“I’m fine, will you let go of me?” She struggled against him again, trying to slip her arm out. He finally turned to her but his grip tightened.

“We thought you were dead,” he breathed, “the whole town, everyone said you’d gone to fight the dragon and when you didn’t come back—”

“I’m fine. Look, I’m here, I’m okay. Luka would never hurt me.”

“Luka?” He turned back and Luka waved nonchalantly, although his lips were pressed into a thin line and his shoulders were trembling. And she didn’t think it was because of the bags still slung across them.

Marinette watched as Adrien processed what she was telling him. After what seemed to be an eternity, he finally turned back to her.

“That’s the dragon?”

“He,” Marinette corrected him irritably, “He’s the dragon.”

“And you’ve, what, been living up there with him this whole time?”

When Marinette didn’t respond, Adrien glanced back at Luka and tried to drag her farther away, apparently hoping for a more private conversation, but she gasped when that familiar tug pulled at her heart and she saw Luka take a step forward as he grimaced.

“Adrien, stop, please!” she cried, finally managing to wrench her arm away from him. She took a breath to calm herself and glanced at Luka again. That flame that had been in his eyes before had turned cold and it was focused on Adrien now. She had a feeling the only reason he wasn’t rushing to her defense was because she’d said Adrien was a friend. And she'd asked him not to hurt Adrien. But he definitely didn’t like the situation.

Adrien’s brow was furrowed as he considered her. Waiting for an explanation, most likely, but her words were stuck in her throat. This should be so easy to explain. She’d already told her parents the story, and they’d accepted both of them. But this was Adrien, her childhood crush, her friend, and she didn’t know how he’d respond. Not to mention the entire town was subtly watching the small drama unfold.

“We’re bonded, Adrien. I can’t go very far from him,” she finally managed to say, touching the stone at her throat as if that explained anything. Adrien’s eyes flicked back to Luka and he lowered his head to speak quietly in her ear.

“Did he take you prisoner?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed him a step back. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to understand here.”

“It’s a long story and I don’t feel like telling it right now. Now please, we just want to get home.”

“Home?” Adrien blinked at her. “But you are home.”

She blushed. She hadn’t meant for that to come out the way it did. “To the tower,” she corrected herself. “To our home.”

Adrien wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You mean you’re with him?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s a soul bond, for life, and I’m not planning on breaking it.”

“But there is a way to break it?”

“Adrien, don’t.”

“You’re my friend, Marinette. If you’re a prisoner, I have to figure out a way to save you. So come on, how do you break it?”

“I just told you I’m not a prisoner! I chose to stay with him. He gave me a choice and I chose.”

“A choice between staying with him or dying? That’s not a choice.”

“He would be the one dying!” The outburst left her and drew more eyes than she was comfortable with. She lowered her voice again. “He gave me a choice to stay with him or kill him. And I won’t kill him.”

Adrien paused to look at her. “You mean the only way to free you is if he dies.”

“Well, yes, but—” Adrien pushed past her before she could finish and she was too stunned to follow. It was only when she noticed him drawing a dagger out from behind his back that she was spurred into action.

She ran until she was in front of him and held him off, pushing against his chest to prevent him from taking another step.

“Are you crazy?” she yelped. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“He’s a dragon, Marinette,” Adrien explained, gesturing with the dagger to Luka and drawing the curious attention of the entire square. “He’s dangerous. And if it’s your life or his… Why are you protecting him?”

“He’s not dangerous!”

“How many people has he killed, huh? How many have we watched go up there and never return?”

“In self-defense! That's all!”

She lunged for the dagger, but Adrien managed to twist past her and continued on his warpath. In a last ditch effort, she clung to his arm and tried to pull him backwards.

There was no way to explain what happened. One minute she was powerless against Adrien, her pleas falling on deaf ears, and the next he hissed in a pained breath and dropped the dagger, shoving her aside in the same movement to inspect his arm. She hit the ground hard and could only gape up at him.

A handprint—hers—had appeared where she’d been clinging to him. It was shiny and pink and already starting to blister. She looked down at her hands and they were glowing with a thin white film of flame, which dissipated along with her bewilderment. Adrien looked from his arm to Marinette, uncomprehending, until he finally caught sight of the stone she was wearing.

Something seemed to dawn on him and he turned to look at Luka again, at the crackling white stone at his throat, and at Luka’s trembling hands that were clenched into fists as he tried to contain himself.

While Adrien was still frozen in shock, Marinette picked herself up and ran to Luka. He’d dropped the bags while she was struggling against Adrien, and he opened his arms for her. She could still feel Adrien’s eyes—the whole town’s eyes—on both of them, but for the moment she let herself be relieved that she was standing within Luka’s protective embrace again. His heart was pounding a mile a minute under her ear as she buried her face into his chest, and his arms tightened around her as he leaned his cheek down on the top of her head and squeezed her to him. He’d been just as scared as she was, then.

Something pulled a growl out of him and she lifted her head in case anyone was threatening him again. Adrien had bent to retrieve his dagger, but his eyes never left the two of them. Luka moved Marinette to be behind him, keeping a tight hold on her hand.

“You’re the reason, then,” Adrien started, “that she’s always been cursed with those flames.”

She wouldn’t quite say that Luka answered him, but he did let out a quiet grumble that sounded to her like assent.

“It’s some sort of spell you put on her. To use her as, what, a human shield? A bargaining chip?” He was gesturing with the dagger as he spoke, and even Marinette could hear the venom dripping from his words. “So when the time came we wouldn’t hunt you down like the monster you are?”

When Luka didn’t answer, Adrien scoffed at him. “Nothing to say to that, then. You’ve got her to fight your battles for you now, right?”

Luka was trembling again, his stone sparking and arcing, like the fire within it was in danger of breaking loose. She glanced down at their joined hands and was surprised to find that thin white film was back, and glowing brighter with each second.

It flowed like a current, he’d said. They’d be able to pass it back and forth without thinking about it.

Adrien’s arm earlier. Luka had wanted to help her, to protect her, and without being conscious of it, he’d given her the means to protect herself. And now that he had her back, now that her hand was in his…

She glanced up at him. He wasn’t looking at her, all his attention trained on Adrien instead, and he looked like a coiled spring, ready to snap at the smallest touch. And Adrien was still goading him. With only a dagger to protect himself. The horror of the situation was starting to dawn on her. Luka would snap if it was to protect her. Adrien was defenseless—fragile, as Luka liked to say—and the whole town was watching.

Adrien would be fried to a crisp and the whole town would be after Luka. Just like he’d thought.

“Hand her over,” she heard Adrien demand, and she whipped her head around at the murmurs of agreement she heard from the crowd that had been drawn. “She belongs here, with us, and you know it.”

Don’t move, Adrien, she thought at him desperately. Don’t take another step.

But he did. One single step towards them was all it took, and Luka’s resolve broke. His armored scales rippled up his arms and throat, and she watched as his ears elongated into sharp points. Tendrils of smoke started to curl out of his nostrils and the hand that was gripping hers tightly had ebony claws. She could only stare along with everyone else as he glared at Adrien.

“Try and take her,” he snarled, the threat in his words obvious.

Adrien took an unconscious step back. Marinette tore her eyes away from Luka to look around at the horrified faces that surrounded them. They thought he was a monster. Her Luka, her bonded, her… dragon.

She didn’t think. In one swift movement, she dropped his hand and dove to pick up the bags she could get her hands on, then ducked around them both to run straight for the edge of the forest.

Adrien would follow them. The whole town was with him. But she and Luka could get a head start.

Luka had wings, after all.

The familiar tug at her heart turned into a zing, and then that blinding, ripping pain, but she pushed on, knowing that he would be behind her any minute now.

She couldn’t help but smile when she heard his footsteps thundering after her and the pain behind her eyes cleared. He’d followed her. Adrien was safe. It worked like she’d wanted it to.

She only slowed enough for him to catch up, and his hand wrapped around hers. They ran in tandem until she had to stop to catch her breath, and even then they only had a moment until the mob would be hot on their heels.

“Trying to run away again?” Luka asked, breathlessly, but she could hear the relief in his voice.

“As far and as fast as I can.” She grinned at him in between breaths, but then her eyes flicked behind him and saw the advancing crowd.

She caught Luka’s eyes as she looped her fingers under the cord of his necklace and with a glance behind him he nodded. She lifted the necklace off him and put it around her own neck for safekeeping and couldn’t help her smile at the bewildered gasps from the townspeople as Luka shuddered into his full form and swept her easily onto his back. With a whoosh of wind he had taken off and Marinette scrambled to cling to the blue tuft of hair along the ridge of his neck, hiding her face in his scales as the ground disappeared beneath them.

And with it, her village.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #mlb fic #lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #adrien agreste #dragon!luka #cursed!marinette #LBSC Exchange 2021 #fic title: playing with fire

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