#until someone informs me that i need to get out of the fountain please

[crazycurly-77]

A beautiful day - pt. 1

On a wonderful sunny Thursday morning you stood up, showered and drank your morning coffee. It was a fine day, but something felt off. 

For some reason you had a bad feeling as if something will be going terribly wrong on this day. But as you drank the last sip of your coffee, you shrugged the bad feeling away and grabbed the key to your car to go to the gym. 

You were in your thirties, had long curly brown hair and were short, but lean muscled. You loved your job as a bomb specialist at the NCIS, because you had no fears of taking risks and you liked saving people, but sometimes you wished you had a family to come home to. Unfortunately your parents died in a car accident a few years ago and a boyfriend was nowhere in sight. So your colleagues became your family and you loved them dearly. 

Right at the moment when you wanted to start the engine, your cell phone was ringing. 

“Y/L/N,” you said as you picked it up. 

“We have a bomb in a big and crowded Shopping Center in Manhattan and we need you here immediately,” you heard Gibbs saying. 

“I'll be there as soon as possible,” you answered. 

You drove like a mad woman through the heavy traffic and after setting a new personal record, you finally arrived at the Shopping Center. 

Immediately you went to the MCRT and asked about the current status, “Tell me.”

Gibbs reported the necessary information to you, “All people were evacuated. The bomb is in the middle of the Center in a closed fountain and it has two wires, a blue one and a red one. The timer says we have 2 minutes until it explodes. Please be careful.”

“Okay, then let's go!” you declared and nodded, went to the back of your car, put your safety suit on and went to the bomb. 

Then you stood right in front of the closed fountain and saw the TNT with the timer. There was only 1 minute left. 

“Y/L/N, what's up?” Gibbs said into your earplug. You tried to keep your cool and answered, “can't see which wire is the right one. Think I'll cut the blue one. Wish me luck.”

“I don't like that,” Gibbs murmured thoughtfully. 

After you had cut it, the timer went much faster to zero than before.

“Fuck!” you yelled and ran as fast as you could to the entrance to get to safety. 

And then the bomb went off and Gibbs thought his heart had stopped. 

He couldn't believe what he saw and everything happened in slow motion. 

As the huge explosion occurred your ears were ringing. You took shelter behind a bar and thankfully had only a few scratches. 

With horror Gibbs saw as the bomb went off, the huge destruction it caused and all the debris laying around. Immediately he and the others searched urgently for you and yelled your name and then finally they saw you. 

Dirty and full of scratches you walked out of the destructed bar and went groggily to them. With great relief they all cheered that you were still alive and with a slight grin you said, “Crab, I should have taken the red one.” Which earned you a light head-slap from Gibbs after which he hugged you tightly and kissed your temple. 

Yep, that was your sense of humor and nobody could resist laughing. 

Who the bomb had built and why they did it was a matter to solve for Team Gibbs.

The boss himself will hunt the bomber to hell and back, because they had nearly killed you. 

But for now everything was just fine. The Shopping Center was indeed destroyed, but nobody died that day. 

So he said, “I don't like that someone so full of life as you is doing such a dangerous job. We have to investigate this case and I would like to have you in my team for a permanent transfer. What do you think?”

He smiled down at you and you watched him searching, then you said smiling “you want to protect me. You going soft?” 

That made him laugh briefly, he nodded and replied “yeah, I think I do.”

You grinned widely at him and whispered “then I will gladly transfer.”

He hugged you relieved and then asked, “since you have no family…maybe I can be your family…if you want?”

(Want to know the answer? Read pt. 2! 😉)

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Here you will find the other chapter of this story

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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[cranetreegang]

An Unexpected Flight - Ominis x FemReader

I loved writing this. But I also love flying around on Highwing. Like I had The Escape and Buckbeak's Flight playing in my head as I wrote this.

I hope y'all enjoy!!!

Summary: Ominis gets an unexpected owl to meet up with the Fifth year. He wonders what's in store for him and her 'surprise'.

Word Count: ~1,600

Read more of my Ominis Fics Here!

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As Ominis descends down the stairs, he senses her waiting at the north exit door, just as her owl said. While her letter had been unexpected, and the message somewhat cryptic stating only to dress warmly, he finds himself giddy with what she wanted to show him.

“Ominis!” She calls out to him as he approaches her. A smile begins to overtake him as he can feel hers radiating back at him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”  

“Of course. Your letter was rather vague though. Where exactly are we going?” 

She holds out her hand for him to take, which he doesn’t hesitate to do, then she says, “It’s a surprise. So, no peeking.” 

“Ha! Another surprise? How do I know you won’t just drag me into the lake, then leave me for the Kraken?” Ominis gives her a cheeky grin, making her laugh.

“You’ll just have to trust me. Besides, I won’t let any harm befall you.” 

While he had been jesting, her rather serious vow made his heart flip in his chest. He gives her a soft smile as he says, “I do trust you. Lead the way.” 

It is strange to let someone else guide him. Since he’s had his wand, he’s had no need for anyone to lead him around. The exhilaration of letting her take them across the school grounds, putting his full trust into her, sends a thrill of excitement through him. He feels the hard stone walkway under his feet and the sounds of students flying over with the air whooshing past with their excited cries. They approach the fountain and keep going past. 

“Are we heading to Hogsmead?” He wonders as they leave the campus’ walls. 

“No. Patience, Ominis. We’re nearly there.” 

He can hear the light smirk in her words. Mischievous, he thinks. 

After they cross a bridge, she takes them off the stone path onto a dirt one. One of his brows raises and she lets out a slight laugh at his expression.

“Don’t worry. It’s not too much further.” She reassures him. 

They head down the path which runs along the trickling river until she stops them. 

“We’re here.” She says. 

“And here is?” 

“Within view of the school grounds.” She lets go of his hand and he feels a sense of exposure at the loss. “There’s someone I want you to meet. She’s very dear to me.” 

“Oh? Whom is it? Is she here now?” Ominis turns his head to better hear who just might be waiting for them. The faint sounds of heavy breaths over the babbling brook makes his skin prickle. 

“I doubt you’ve met her before.” She says with a bit of humor lacing her voice. “First, you’ll need to introduce yourself.”

“I-, of course. How rude of me. My name is-,”

“No, no.” She giggles. “Something far more formal. You must bow.” 

“Bow?” Ominis cranes his head towards her then back to the mysterious person in front of them. 

“Yes. Like you mean it. Nice and low.” She encourages. 

Ominis stiffens before lowering his head.

“Back too, Gaunt. Don’t slack on me now.” She teases. 

Ominis huffs with a slight scowl aimed towards her then does as he’s told. The sounds of something ruffling and a pleased chirp gets his attention. A faint notion of who, or really what, he’s introducing himself to, sends a slight chill down his spine. 

“Very good. She bowed back.” She informs Ominis. “You may now approach.” 

Her hand finds his and like instinct he follows her forward until she guides his hand up with his palm facing out. Similar to the unicorn, he feels something cool press into his palm, not nearly as wet though. He pets over the smooth surface until his fingers brush over something soft. His brows pinch as he pieces together what he’s feeling.

“Ominis, this is Highwing. A hippogriff.” 

His stomach lurches at his very close proximity to such a dangerous creature. 

“How on earth did you come across a hippogriff then befriend her?” Ominis wonders while he steps away from Highwing to be closer to his mischievous friend.

“Long story, but I saved her from poachers. Well, Natty and I did.” 

Ominis opens his mouth to express his concerns with such a thing, but she speaks first.

“Now that you’ve met Highwing, how about a quick ride?” 

Ominis stiffens, his head already shaking ‘no’, “This is quite dangerous. I-I don’t even know how to fly. I’ve never even been on a broom.” 

Her hand takes his and for a moment his worries quell.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promised no harm would befall you, and I meant it.” She pauses then adds when Ominis remains silent, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m more than pleased you have met Highwing. We can return to the castle-,”

“I’ll do it.” Ominis interjects. He raises his head up with a sureness in his voice, “I would like to fly. With you.” 

“Oh, Ominis! You’re going to really enjoy this.” She swells with enthusiasm while she helps him mount Highwing. His heart flutters in his chest at the feeling of being on top of such a mighty being then his heart nearly soars out of his chest when he feels her right behind him. 

“Hold on here.” She wraps his hands around a few tufts of feathers at the base of Highwing’s neck. “And whenever you’re ready, tell her, ‘Highwing, go’. Then she’ll do the rest.” 

Ominis situates himself, but he doesn’t know how to brace for what’s to come. He sucks in a sharp breath then says, “Highwing, go.” 

Without further prompting, Highwing takes off at a dead sprint with a sharp cry. Ominis’ heart jumps into his throat and he fully collapses against Highwing, wrapping his arms around her neck. He’s jerked and jolted with every move of Highwing’s four legs. He hears her wings unfurl from under them. The breath leaves from his chest as Highwing leaps into the air and with a few mighty beats of her wings he knows they’re airborne.

Highwing flies higher and higher until Ominis’ fears they’re so far from the ground he would surely have fainted if he did have sight. It isn’t until Highwing planes out and shifts into an easy glide does his heart finally stop threatening to rip out of his chest. 

“Ominis! We’re flying!” Her voice is nearly carried away by the wind as they soar through the skies. He’s aware of her arms tight around his chest and his heart’s now beating rapidly for a different reason. Ominis calms himself enough to take in what is happening. He manages to pull out his wand and the sensations he feels is amazing. Wide open space with the ground far below them. He believes they’re going over the tops of trees. Clouds are just within their reach above them and a great smile comes over him. 

“We’re flying!” He shouts with a nervous laugh. 

Highwing glides down and Ominis smells the Black Lake before he feels the cool spray upon his wind-chilled face. Flying is far better than he could have ever imagined. Having had Sebastian try to describe broom flight in detail, Sebastian left out this undeniable sense of freedom. Perhaps this is due to the mode of transportation he’s currently on, Ominis thinks to himself. 

Ominis slowly releases his death grip on Highwing and spreads his arms out similar to the beast below him. He can hear her laughing while he begins to whoop and holler. She mimics his cries of joy with her own until they’re both laughing with glee. Highwing shifts and Ominis quickly grabs hold with a surprised cry. Highwing soars past the lake and follows along the river with ease. Ominis could spend hours flying, he realizes. 

Her arms around his chest tightens before she rests her head upon his back. It’s like he had been dunked in an ice bath then surrounded by an all too warm blanket. He wishes he could see her expression. He imagines it’s tranquil right now with how she rests on him. He engrains everything he can about this moment into his mind. The wind ruffling his air, the feathers in his hands, Highwing’s mighty wings just under his legs, and her hold around him. 

Before he knows it, Highwing takes them into a smooth landing at, where he presumes, they first took off. She releases her hold on him then dismounts. She assists him in doing the same. It takes a moment for his legs to return to him, finding the ground to be spinning after such an experience. Ominis turns back towards the majestic beast.

“Thank you, Highwing.” Ominis gives another low bow towards the creature. A chirp then a nudge of her beak against his temple is all the indication he needs and he walks away with a wide smile.

“Not bad for your first flight.” She grins. 

Ominis, not waiting for her, seeks out her hand until he’s able to securely latch onto it. He wonders if she can feel the tremors still racking through his body from such a thrilling experience.

“I must say, I see the appeal of it. I don’t think there’s anything quite like it.” Ominis hums in thought. “Sebastian’s going to be green with envy when I tell him.” 

“So, that must mean you would be interested in flying with me again sometime?” She wonders. 

His smile gives himself away. He knows this, as she giggles with excitement. 

“I can’t wait until our next flight then.” She squeezes his hand. “Now, since we’re already off campus, how about a butterbeer to celebrate?” 

He nods, “A butterbeer would be perfect right about now. My treat.” 

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AN: When I first rode on Highwing, I nearly cried. Then I was bummed cause my computer took a shit on itself and lagged out and there was no music as Natty and I flew by campus. And you know damn well I did the whole 'glide over the lake just barely touching it' bit. I have ZERO shame NONE! Hopefully the next playthrough I'll get the full experience cause just wow. So freaking cool.

Thanks again for reading! Hope you enjoyed! <3

Read more of my Ominis Fics Here!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Jiang Yanli/one of the Nie brothers - your choice! Post war letter writing - a long distance slow burn type thing through letters? It would be especially lovely if they somehow save the day that way.

ao3

Untamed verse

You’d better not marry him!

Jiang Yanli did her best not to giggle when she saw the note in the mirror sitting on her dresser. It was a hand-held mirror, dusty and banged up – most people who saw it thought it was some treasured sentimental memento that she’d rescued from the Lotus Pier, probably because that was the only reason they could conceive of a lady of her status possessing something so poorly made. In fact, it was the most valuable thing that she owned, and it wasn’t even originally hers: Nie Huaisang had pressed it into her hands with a grin while she’d been staying at Qinghe during the war, claiming that he desperately needed her to keep him informed of everything that was happening while he was away in the Cloud Recesses.

She hadn’t understood what he meant until she’d looked at it again that evening and seen words shining in the mirror, at which point she’d abruptly been completely aghast – communication mirrors like that were sect treasures, utterly priceless. The technique for making them had long ago been lost, and most of them were bloodline-bound or, at utmost, used for married or engaged couples that had endure lengthy separation; she couldn’t even imagine giving something like that away to someone outside the sect that owned it. She’d written to Nie Huaisang at once with her protests, and he hadn’t listened to a single one of them, insisting that it was his inheritance that he could distribute it to anyone he pleased, and anyway that if she felt so strongly about it she could give it back to him on the event of his marriage. Or hers, if she preferred.

Jiang Yanli had eventually given in to his pestering – by the time she’d figured out its use, Nie Huaisang was long gone, and she really didn’t want to get him in trouble by revealing what he’d done – and they’d kept up a correspondence ever since. During the war it hadn’t been all that much, mostly updates on how the people around them were doing, but after, when it was done, Nie Huaisang’s liveliness had started making a comeback with a vengeance: he had opinions on people, lots of them, and he was a positive fountain of gossip. Really funny gossip, too.

Well maybe you should have warned me that Sect Leader Jin was going to make that sort of proposal, she wrote back, tracing the brush straight onto the mirror without any ink – the words were formed in the faint condensation that always seemed to cling to it, and sank into the mirror, vanishing without a trace.

If I’d known about it, I would have! You can’t hold that against me! Anyway you can’t possibly marry Jin Zixuan, he was a complete ass to you.

Jiang Yanli smiled. She knew how blessed she was, to have brothers and friends whose first thought was always her happiness and never the political situation.

Maybe he’s gotten better.

Jiang-jiejie! You can’t!

There are certain undeniable advantages to it, Jiang Yanli wrote, feeling a little wry and regretful. She’d never allowed herself to be a romantic, not even when she’d been younger – too aware of how ordinary she was, too aware of her position, her responsibility to her parents and her sect…it was all the more critical now, no matter what brave words her beloved Jiang Cheng said both in public and to her in private. Just because he didn’t want to have to trade her away for benefits, using her life to solidify an alliance with a bond that couldn’t be shaken as easily as the words on a page, didn’t mean that it might not make the most sense to do it.

Jiejie! Nie Huaisang wrote back, somehow managing to convey a great deal of emotion in very few characters.

Don’t jiejie me, she wrote, scolding lightly. You know it’s true. The Jin sect has money, stability and power, and my Jiang sect currently lacks all of those things.

But -

And it’s not as if it would be a tragedy to marry Jin Zixuan; I’ve only spent my entire life preparing to do it. I liked him rather a lot when we were younger…you might not remember, back in the Cloud Recesses, but I really did, I was very genuine. It wouldn’t be that hard to dig those feelings back out again.

Though…perhaps she might only admit it to Nie Huaisang, but it would have to be an affirmative effort to do so, if she did.

It was hard to maintain liking in the face of such consistent rejection – first in the Cloud Recesses, then later, again and again…Jin Zixuan had matured more during the war, and he’d been nothing but polite during the times when he’d escorted her to and fro through the dangerous paths, from battlefield to safety. But then there’d been the incident with the soup and it was all happening over again…It was painfully clear that even after years and years, Jin Zixuan still didn’t care to know her enough to know that she would never behave in such a manner. Even if he regretted what he’d done, if he by some miracle he liked her now, it was more than a little insulting.

But if Jiang Yanli’s pride, inherited from her mother, was deeply stung, then her practicality, inherited from her father, still ruled over her heart. If the best move for the Jiang sect was for her to marry Jin Zixuan, and it might very well be, then she would continue her tentatively started acquaintanceship with Madame Jin. She would accept all future invitations to be pushed together with Jin Zixuan against her will, and while she wouldn’t bend her neck to beg for his attention, if he finally showed interest…well…

Like she said, it wouldn’t be that hard to resurrect her former interest in him.

Jiang Yanli was a practical girl, friendly and easy-going. No matter the circumstances, she could find a way to be happy.

The Jin sect isn’t the only sect with money, power, and stability, Nie Huaisang wrote. You’re selling yourself short! Just because you can be happy with him doesn’t mean that’s the happiest you could be.

Happiness is a state of mind, Jiang Yanli wrote back to him, smiling a little – younger brothers never understood the nature of sacrifice the way oldest daughters did, and that was a good thing. And I really don’t have as many options as you might think. My Jiang sect is a Great Sect, and has to be mindful of its dignity; I can’t just marry some rogue cultivator or sect no one has heard of. And even the larger small sects…now that the Jin have expressed an interest, there won’t be many who would be willing to cross them in order to have me.

It was the simple truth of it. That was why Jin Guangshan had made the announcement public – even though she’d demurred and put him off, he’d known he was boxing her in, cutting off her options.

Then get someone whose influence outweighs theirs!

Jiang Yanli actually laughed out loud. Jiang Cheng had said something similar when she’d pointed out the situation they were in, refusing to acknowledge reality, rejecting it as if things could be different if only he willed it strongly enough. He’d done the impossible with resurrecting their sect, so he’d assumed the same would be true for her marriage. Sadly, things were never so easy as that.

That leaves me with the Lan and the Nie, she wrote, smiling. The Lan are notoriously picky. Are you making me an offer?

Nothing on the mirror.

She realized belatedly that he might not realize that she was joking, and lifted her brush to clarify, but before she could, the mirror shimmered again –

Yes.

Jiang Yanli blinked. Before she could say anything, the mirror was suddenly fully of words.

I don’t see why I can’t! You’re the nicest girl I’ve ever met, and even if you’re a weak cultivator in Jin Zixuan’s eyes, you’re still stronger than I am – anyway, no one in my sect will care about something like that. My brother’s always wanted me to marry someone who I liked, who’ll make me happy; I don’t see why I can’t be happy with you, and you can be happy with me. Certainly happier, and more genuinely, than you’d be with Jin Zixuan, at least until he grows up a little…even if you don’t actually want me, I’d be more than happy to pretend for a while, let him learn to fight for you. Just think about it!

Jiang Yanli stared at the mirror as Nie Huaisang rambled on, alternating between trying to convince her to marry him and trying to convince her to at least become engaged with him in some wild scheme to piss off the Jin sect and convince Jin Zixuan that if he wanted to make a move for her, he had to get off his ass and do it – accordingly to Nie Huaisang, the biggest problem Jin Zixuan had was that things came too easily to him, everything he wanted being given to him by his parents, never having to work for anything, no effort meaning no satisfaction with the result…

All right, Jiang Yanli wrote, and the words suddenly stopped. Let’s get engaged. We can work out how the rest will go after that, all right?

She waited for his response with her heart in her mouth. If he’d only been joking…

I’ll talk to my brother, Nie Huaisang wrote back immediately. Tonight. You just keep on refusing that arrogant jerk for now, all right? We’ll come talk to you soon, just you wait.

Jiang Yanli found herself smiling again, except instead of the faint, resigned smile she’d gotten used to, it was a real one. It was nice to be asked, nice to be wanted. Even if it did end up being a sham in the end, and Jin Zixuan did somehow pull off a caper to win her heart back after all this time, it would be…

It would be fun.

[sashi-ya]

Hay! Could I request a second part to your Yamato fic? You can make it sfw or nsfw, whatever you prefer. I would like to know what happens afterwards ~ do they develop feelings? Thank you and I hope I'm not too late! 💗 Don't forget to give yourself some me-time🥺

Hi my darling! Of course! I’m so sorry for the delay, but I wanted to write this when I get truly inspired so I can deliver to you the best version of it ♥ It’s not super long, because we don’t really have much info about Yamato yet, but if Oda wants to give us more -I’m sure he will-, I can write more about this lovely couple.

Either way, I hope you enjoy it!! Thank u for all of your support, love u! 💖 ~

Soft! NSFW ~ Yamato x F! Reader ~ Play That Melody For Me ~ PART 2

TW: HE/HIM pronouns used for Yamato (as it should be). Bathing together. Kissing. There is no explicit smut, but still they are naked together ~

WC: 887

This is the second part of the Fic “Play That Melody For Me” ♥

“I have your dad’s diary… that’s why I asked the only person that knows how to play that melody to do it for me… I’m on your side, Princess…“

You blink repeatedly. “My dad’s diary? Princess?” you ask, scared but intrigued at the same time. “I do, I was there when… Oden was… shoot…” Yamato says, while his eyes get watery.

You walk up to the window, angry, with pure hatred in your heart. You turn around, crying. “By your dad! Kaido killed my...” you shout, but you get interrupted by Yamato’s soft lips over yours. “Shh, don’t say it. If someone hears you, you will be in danger!” he says, while your legs turn weaker, and he holds you, so you don’t fall.

“I won’t allow you to fall, princess. You won’t get on your knees, never again” he says, brushing your hair while you cry pressed against his chest. The way Yamato pronounces the word “princess”, the way he holds you. It feels so good, so safe. But he is your enemy. You shouldn’t trust this man, what if he is here to take you to Kaido?...

“I know you are afraid of me, but trust me, I hate Kaido. I want to kill him, and I will” he swears to you and kisses your head. Yamato is way taller than you, his arms protect you, you can rest at least for a second there. And for some reason, you trust. Don’t really know why, but you trust in him.

You spend some more minutes cuddling and decide to take a bath. “Would you take a bath with me, Yamato?” you ask him. “Sure, let’s go” he says and both of you head to the bathing room next to your room.

Steam fills the place, the sound of little fountains and the smell of rose petals floating on the little pool makes everything better. Your naked bodies surrounded by the mist the warm water produces, you hold Yamato's hand, guiding him to the pool.

When both of you sit on the water, Yamato gets closer to you. His nose against yours, foreheads pressing. “Trust me, please. I want to protect you” he says. A single tear falls from the corner of your eye to your cheek. “I need time...” you whisper. “Fine” he says, smiling kindly.

Yamato takes a little white towel and asks you to turn around. He gently rubs your back, up and down, softly, caring. Sometimes placing pecks over your shoulder, sometimes taking the cloth up until the small of your back. Everything happens in silence, enjoying the sound of the water, his breathing and sometimes the cold feeling of the metallic shackles he has on his wrists.

“Let me do it…” you tell him. You can’t help but feel the need to caress his back, your fingers travelling through his spine. “Are you sure, princess? You shouldn’t…” he says, shyly. “I want to” you tell him and grab the cloth from his hands. “Turn around for me” ... And he does so, his long white hair covers his back, so you take it and put it over his shoulder.

Yamato’s back is finally exposed before you. Even the mist is not able to conceal the multiple scars he has on his back. It looks like he’s been tortured, abused. You don’t dare to ask, but you know… you know really well who did that to him. You pass the towel over his back, up and down. Softly, not to clean him, but to put some love into that wounded skin. “I’m sorry” you whisper. He remains silent, he knows you know…

You plant a soft kiss over his shoulder and rest your chin there. Yamato’s big hand reaches for your head, he pats it gently, resting his head over yours. The golden loop around his wrist reflects your face. “Why…?” you ask. “Because he doesn’t want me to defeat him…” he says, smiling. Both of you let a little laugh slip out of your mouths.

“Come here�� he says, and turns you around, so you could sit over his lap. You cross your legs around his waist, your breasts pressing. The back of his hand caresses your cheek. “I will help you to get rid of this” you say, by pointing to the shackles. “Just wait for them to arrive… twenty years from that day…” you tell him, hoping that you haven’t revealed so much information. But he knows, he knows well… “I’ve been waiting for them since that day. I know they are coming soon” he whispers and kisses your forehead.

It doesn’t matter how guilty you feel, you can’t escape the magical attraction you have for him. “Let’s fight together, ok?” you tell him. “Of course, princess” he says, and kisses your lips. Is this love? The need of him staying to protect you, to keep coming, to kiss you forever… is this love?

Yamato finally leaves the place, not before making love to you once again. Insatiable needs to express something physically. Does he love you? Or is it just praising you as his princess? But either way, you can’t wait for him to come back tomorrow… maybe kissing him one more time, maybe touching his skin once more, maybe having his eyes staring into your soul again could ease your doubts…

“Come back tomorrow, please” “I will always come back to your side, my Tsukihime…” ♥~

[kashimos-hajime]

the girl in purple (1/8) | r.b.

summary: In his mind, you’re wearing the white blouse and long purple skirt again, long riding boots covering dark pants, innocent smile on your face as you wait for him in the noon sunlight. Or, four years ago, Bertholdt asked for a favour and you said yes.

WARNINGS: swearing, ass jokes, flashbacks and flashforwards, mostly fluff and banter, pining and angst at the end, bertholdt is our soft best friend <3 pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 5.0k

a/n: pt 1 of 8 of a birthday present for the legend, the icon, the bad bitch herself, ISABEL!!@!@!@ @luciilferss​ ALSO, song not mine! it’s the sea shanty called wellerman.

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

You sigh, wiping the back of your hand before grabbing the next hay bale that needed to be lifted to the loft. Your back aching, you grit your teeth as you lug it towards the ladder. It’s the last one and after a sweaty afternoon, you just want to get into bed. Hopefully Annie did end up getting you supper—you had to work through it just so Shadis didn’t get your ass up tomorrow to finish the job.

“Here, let me help.”

“Oh, thank you,” you reply, glancing to see your savior and a warmth shoots through your body when you realize it’s Bertholdt. “You know if Shadis catches you helping me, it’s going to be hell to pay, right?” The boy smiles, shrugging, and you can’t help your own grin as he gestures for you to climb up. Skirting up the ladder, you turn around to take the hay bale and pushing it towards the corner before jumping down and dusting off your hands. Stable clean-up is never fun, but with autumn right around the corner, they all want to get a head start before the chill sets in.

“I wanted to ask you a favour.”

“I knew there had to be a reason you were in here,” you tease. “Shoot.”

“Well, we have visiting privileges next weekend,” Bertholdt continues as you walk around the stables, picking up tools as you make your way towards where the broom is leaning against the wall. The tall boy ambles after you and you shoot him an amused look, curiosity pricking at your fingers. 

Half-way through their training in the corps, and Bertholdt still manages to keep you guessing. You don’t know what it is about him, but your friend’s always been the quiet one. It’s part of why you like being around him, but you just wish his friend liked you. Annie seems more than fine with you.

Reiner, on the other hand, can barely even look at you. It’s a real downer.

“I was just wondering…”

“You should ask Annie,” you cut off before he can finish, picking up the broom to begin sweeping the stray hay into a neat pile. Bertholdt’s spine goes ramrod straight and his cheeks redden so intensely you can’t help but laugh. “I’m pretty sure she would say yes. You guys are friends, right?”

“Yes, but we’re—we’re not—why would I ask Annie, specifically?” he stammers. The horses neigh as you walk past, their necks stretching out for treats but you ignore them, heading for the entrance. “She could go with a bunch of other people.”

“Yeah, but she always goes with me.” Glancing at Bertholdt, your eyes narrow when he smacks his forehead, covering his flustered expression miserably. Poking him in the gut with the handle of your broom, you continue, “And she only likes a few people here. You’re one of them, Bertl.” 

“Well, if you think so. I mean, you’re her dorm mate, not me, so… argh!” he groans as you walk past him, sweeping. “You’re not helping!”

“Helping with what?” you ask innocently, not paying him a second look. You hear him let out a sigh as you brush hay to the back of the stables. “You’re the one who wanted a favour.”

“Yeah, and I still need to tell you.”

“Literally no one’s stopping you, Bertholdt.” Another resigned sigh. “Okay. Okay. Ask me. I promise I won’t tease you for the next ten minutes.” Turning around, you rest your broom against the post between two stalls. A horse nudges at your face and you scratch the stallion’s chin as Bertholdt walks closer. His eyes inspect your own expression, searching for trickery, but you only grin.

Then, he drops his crossed arms and says, “Someone wants to ask you out next weekend for our visit to Trost.”

“Er, okay? Why didn’t they just ask me themselves?” Crossing your own arms, you lean against the post, the lantern hanging above your head and casting everything in a warm glow. It softens Bertholdt’s smile as he shrugs mischievously. “Who was it?”

“Reiner.”

“Reiner?” His name is punched out of you, sharp with shock, and your broom slides off the post, clattering to the floor between the two cadets as you stare at Bertholdt. 

“Mhm?”

“Reiner Braun.”

“Yep.”

“We know the same one, don’t we?”

“Blond, makes ass jokes, this tall?” he shoots back, raising a hand that comes just near his ear. You nod. “Yeah.”

“But he hates me.”

“What? No, he doesn’t. Why would you think that?” Bertholdt’s eyebrows knit together and you stare at him incredulously, not sure if he’s joking or not. Shaking your head, you let out a scoff and bend down to pick up your broom to continue your sweeping. Mind a swirl, you try to reconcile the Reiner, who has never said more to you than ‘pass the grease’ during ODM maintenance and ‘you have dirt on your chin’ after forest exercises, with the Reiner who had to ask Bertholdt to ask you out for him.

Sounds fake, but you digress.

“Okay,” you drawl, unable to help the disbelief from creeping into your voice. “This was a good attempt at a joke, but you need to try harder next time.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Why would I ever believe you?”

“Because I would never li—make something up like that,” he says, correcting himself, and you send him a strange look. “Just… when we get to Trost, you know that bakery that sells the stuffed cream buns. The one you mentioned before?”

“Yeah. Annie likes them,” you inform him pointedly, and Bertholdt’s mouth drops open to argue but he seems to think better of it this time.

“Yes, that one.” Fighting a furious blush on his cheeks, he continues, “If you’re there at noon, you’ll see I’m not lying.”

“And if I’m not there?”

“Reiner will be very sad for the rest of his life,” Bertholdt declares and you can’t help your serious expression from sliding off. “Will you please just consider it?”

Staring at your friend, you study his expression. It’s completely genuine, open, eyes wide and you feel a part of you melting at how adorable he is. For such a tall guy, he’s so goddamn gentle it blows your mind he’s a fighter. You can’t see him hurting even so much as a fly.

It’s for that reason you relent. Because Bertholdt’s never gone out of his way to scheme your downfall. He doesn’t have that in him. “Fine,” you say after a moment. “Fine, I’ll consider it.”

.

When Reiner steps back into the port city, he can’t help but think what he always thinks when he gets off a battlefield. Four years, and every thought is the same. Routine, almost. Or maybe, a habit to keep something alive.

And he almost takes comfort in it. That you would’ve loved it here. In Marley—Liberio, or otherwise. There are so many kinds of sweets, pastries, so many sights to see—the water stretches on for miles and miles, and you could’ve tried seafood. Maybe you would’ve liked it.

You never tried seafood. He promised. He promised—

Fucking hell. 

He steps out of the barracks, insides twisting into a tight knot as the sun blinds him. Lifting a hand, he squints and blinks, trying to get used to the brightness as people pass him by. Galliard’s voice trails after him like a ghost, and he scowls to himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He feels like he hasn’t slept a wink, and his body aches in places so deep he can’t rub it out.

“I saw you through her memories. You acted like the tough, reliable type. Not at all like yourself. And you were with that girl. Who was she to you, anyway, Reiner? Because my brother would have never cozied up with the enemy.”

Cozied up with the enemy. It’s as much as implying fraternization as anything and Reiner had barely chained back the words that would’ve torn both him and Galliard to shreds.

Don’t you fucking dare reduce her to just some promise I broke ever again. It stopped meaning something to me years ago.

Shaking his head free of Galliard’s voice, an image of you flashes through his mind to replace it and the urge to send a fist into his own face lances down his arm, but he barely restrains himself from doing so. Instead, he tightens his hand until his nails dig into his palm.

You’re always the one thing he can’t shake, nor does he think he wants to. 

Hollow, his feet drag his battered body towards the harbour. 

As he walks along the water, he hear some of the fishermen whistle and sing their shanties. It takes him a moment to recognize they’re all singing the same song, and he’s thrown back to when he came to the port the first time he was to go off to Paradis, how he committed the shanties to memory so he could take something with him to what was supposed to be an Island of Devils.

It makes his entire body ache, the uplifting tune filling his body up until he can’t possibly breathe. The way the sailors all sing together, smiling at each other—the camaraderie.

“Soon may the Wellerman come, to bring us sugar and tea and rum, one day when the toungin’ is done, we’ll take our leave and go…”

He misses that the most.

.

The sun is hanging in the centre of the sky as you glance from your plate to your surroundings. The fountain is full of life, people milling around the edges, tossing coins in and making wishes, and you hide a smile behind your hand when you watch a group of kids trying to flick their coins to the top most basin of the structure. The tiny plink-plink is barely heard, but either way, their groans of disappointment are far more amusing.

It helps pass the time at least, while you waste away your afternoon waiting for someone you’re not even sure will come. Dressed in a white blouse tucked into a long dark purple skirt that covers your pants, you cross one leg over the other as you wait.

You don’t even know why you’re here. Bertholdt had all but avoided your questions for the past week, and Annie didn’t budge, although, it’s harder for the blonde to slip. Being bunkmates helps, but not that much.

You keep people-watching, glancing up at the sky occasionally to see if any birds pass over, your bread untouched. Glancing up and down the street, you rest your chin glumly on the palm of your hand, elbow resting on the table. 

No pretty blond head in sight. 

Groaning, you lift your head when one of the waiters approaches, asking if you wanted anything more. You shake your head, a warmth spreading over your face and watching him go when a shadow falls over your table. 

“Oh, you got something to eat already.” 

Head jerking to the voice, you look up in surprise at whoever’s blocking your sunlight. Standing upright, your chair clatters against cobblestone as you clear your throat.

“You’re actually here,” you blurt out to both of their surprise and Reiner rocks back on his heels, running a hand through his short hair. His eyebrows struggle to meet his hairline and he smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry I’m late. Uh, sit down. I just… got lost.” You sink back into your chair and he takes the seat down across from yours nervously. He’s dressed in a pale green button up and darker slacks, but for once, he’s not scowling at you and you offer a slight smile. “How… how are you?”

“I’m okay. Slow morning.” He nods. You glance at your plate and nudge it towards him awkwardly. “I got it for you. It’s my favourite. I dunno what Bertl told you about me, or… why I’m even here, honestly.”

He picks up the bun tentatively, and you look down at your boots as he takes a bite, too nervous to watch his reaction.

What if he hates sweet things? What if he can’t drink cow milk? Don’t you remember? What if it makes him shit his pants—

“Oh, wow. I need to come to this place more often,” Reiner mumbles, taking another huge bite and your gaze flits to his face as he chews. His eyes are focused solely on the bun in a way that reminds you a lot like Sasha, and the corner of your mouth pulls into a pleased hint of a smile. “This is heaven…”

“You like it?” 

A noise escapes the blond and eyes jerk to meets yours as if he just remembered you were there and you tear your eyes away, clasping your hands together on the table. You close your eyes. Can the embarrassment just swallow you up already?

Reiner clears his throat, taking the cup of water left out for him after a quick point and your nod. He drains it to buy them both time, and your thumbs rub together. If you just walk away now, would it be too bad? You could probably find Annie or Jean pretty easily. Bertholdt’s probably just exploring the city with… if you had to hazard a guess, maybe Armin? They both like the architecture—stuff like that.

Honestly, you have no idea.

Porcelain rests against wood as Reiner nods. “I do. I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth.”

“Er, yeah. Since I was a kid. We didn’t have much, uh, variety, so stuff like this was kinda a delicacy. I grew up at this orphanage where we worked the fields.” You shift in your seat as Reiner continues to eat, and you sigh silently to yourself. Why did you give up an afternoon looking at paint supplies with Jean for an awkward date like this?

Wait, this is a date right? That’s what Bertholdt said. Ask you out. Those were his words, right?

“Where are you from?”

“Just inside Wall Maria, so when Shiganshina was breached, we had more time to move inward,” you explain briefly. “But we mostly ate what we grew for crops. I mean, it’s not like we could buy cream buns every day, you know?” Reiner nodded silently, and you give him an uneasy smile, feeling the need to elaborate. “Ever since we joined the corps, they send me money for birthdays and stuff. I don’t know.” You clear your throat. “Anyway, I just thought you might like the bun.”

“Even though you think I hate you?”

“Wha—“ A strangled noise comes out of your mouth. “Who told you that?”

“Why would you think that, anyway?”

“Because all you do is glare at me,” you say pointedly. Crossing your arms over your chest, you shoot him a narrowed look. “And scowl. And you generally avoid being anywhere near me. I mean, do I stink to you or something, Braun, because I have news for you—“

“I don’t hate you. I actually really like you,” he tells you bluntly, cutting your rant in half, and your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Reiner looks down at the empty plate, crossing his own arms and leaning forward on them. 

“Y-you like me?” you stammer and his cheeks redden.

“I mean, if Annie likes someone, I’m inclined to believe that they’re worth my time.”

Frowning, your shoulders slump. Gears turning, your expression scrunches up as you think aloud. “But, you asked Bertholdt to ask me out for you. Unless this is a dumb dare—wait.” You sit upright, twisting around to see if any of the other boys are milling around the plaza. Scanning for brown hair, or grey hair, or even blond hair, your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that someone’s watching you embarrass yourself but a hand on your elbow brings your gaze reeling back to Reiner.

A smile curls his lips impishly, but his eyes are resolute, calmer. Even still, he looks like he’s trying to fight a small panic rising up inside him, just like you are as he tells you to relax.

“This isn’t a dare,” he says. “I’m not that cruel.”

“I’ve seen you do worse to Titan dummies.”

“Exactly. I just wanted to get to know you better. Bertholdt offered to help me out since you guys are already friends, and I thought what the hell.”

You turn that explanation over in your head tentatively and a part of you recognizes it makes sense. Despite your hesitation, you know you only said yes because it was Bertholdt who asked you.

Otherwise, how inclined were you to say yes if it had been Reiner stalking up to you and asking you to hang out in Trost? How likely would it have been that you would be sitting here instead of walking along the stalls with Sasha and Connie?

“I’m kinda ashamed I don’t know you that well,” Reiner continues, fighting off tones you can’t decipher laced in his voice. Your brow furrows. “But I want to fix that, if you’d let me.” 

Dazedly, you repeat, “Fix… that?”

He nods and you simply stare at him, trying to get your mouth to work. It’s like he stole all the words from your mouth and time seems to slow as your lips part.

Absently, you realize his hand is still touching your elbow, fingers firm but not tight, and you swallow, studying his expression. Golden light plays on his face, sharpening the shadows of his nose and cheeks and lips, and yet everything about him seems to soften. Normally, you see him as hard rigid lines, like the shape of armour, and there is always an imposing aura around him that has become more muted now that he’s sitting beside you.

And you believe it. That he doesn’t hate you.

Maybe he really, really doesn’t, and you’d be an idiot if you don’t take up the offer.

So you stand up abruptly, and pull your arm out of his grip before slipping your hand into his.

“Fine,” you annouce, pulling him up. His eyes widen and you lead him away from the café with a small grin to yourself. A new plan begins to formulate in your mind as they step into the welcoming sun. Reiner’s long strides catch up to yours and he falls into step beside you. His stare burns into your cheek and you only tighten your grip on his hand as you lift your chin haughtily at him. “What do you say to a game of twenty questions?”

His eyebrows shoot up, but then a smug smile pulls at his mouth and he squeezes your hand back. “Sounds perfect, creampie. I promise, I’ll be perfectly honest.”

“Creampie?” you repeat dumbly, eyebrows shooting up and a horrible burning licking at your heart. Reiner gives you a vulgar smile and you let go of his hand, shaking your head and smacking his arm before looking down at the ground. Half of you wishes the ground would open up and swallow you whole—the other half thinks you’ll die of embarrassment before that. “How do you even know what that is?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You straighten up, spine straight as an arrow. Flustered, you stutter, “That’s none of your business.”

He tilts his head back and laughs. “Guess that was your first question, then, huh? Bold start. Surprised me, too, creampie, so that gets you bonus points.”

“What? Wait—no! That doesn’t count!”

.

Walking past the hospital every day, it feels almost ritual to look past the gates and into the courtyard. Sometimes there are patients milling around, doing their daily physical activity, or nurses and other workers walking through to get a break from all the depressing shit that must be going on in there, and Reiner always, always, wonders if he should be in there with the rest of them.

It’s why he turns his head on reflex now, peering through iron-wrought gates. No one’s inside except for a pair walking through the path and he stops for a moment, watching. 

One of them is most definitely a woman, a hat covering her head and a long coat the shade of plums. A white Eldian armband is stark against the shade of her clothes. Meanwhile the other looks like he’s been dragged through hell. With one leg, he hobbles along with his crutch, black hair streaming past his shoulders, and he’s ragged, white shirt kind of messy from where Reiner stands. The Eldian armband is wrapped tight along his bicep. But he stands straight-back, shoulders set, the gait of a soldier. Pride keeps him up, not strength.

He’s too far away to hear them speak, and they stick to the shadows of the hospital, but after a short moment, the woman wraps an arm around the one not desperately holding onto the crutch, leaning in closer towards the man as if he has the most riveting thing to say.

For a moment, it is not a woman in a purple jacket and a veteran with one leg but two cadets walking the streets of Trost, sunlight shining down on them warmly. The blond boy leans to listen to the girl beside him, smiling until he thought his cheeks would fall off.

“This is your last question, Reiner. Make it count.”

“Hm… alright, if you could do anything in the world, anything at all, what would you do? No Titans, no soldiers. Let’s say there was no war at all and you had unlimited resources, yadda, yadda, yadda…”

“Oh? Hm… I’d want to live where there’s a lot of water. Like a lake or something. I’d get to try all these foods I’ve never thought of before, and I’d, uh… I don’t know what I’d do for money. I guess I’d figure it out somehow.”

“Chopping down wood sounds fun.”

“Yeah, right! I’d rather chop my fingers off. Hm… Maybe I could raise some kids, like I was raised. Give them a home.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I dunno. I like being responsible for things. It makes me feel like I’m needed, I guess. I don’t want a kid to grow up lonely like I did.”

“That… that sounds nice.”

“You could visit, you know. As long as you chop the firewood.”

Reiner blinks, and the two are gone. Not a hint of them are in sight, and a soft breath slips out between his lips. He must’ve been seeing things.

Shaking his head to himself, he turns away.

.

The past year and a half has been turbulent since you became friends with Reiner, but for some reason, you don’t think you would change the thing. 

Not even when Connie would come at ghastly hours in the morning because “CAN YOU PLEASE TELL REINER TO STOP SNORING? We would but we’re too afraid of being crushed by the weight of his entire body. Thank you! You’re the best, seriously.”

Or when they’re studying and Reiner makes one too many jokes about how he could fuck a Titan, despite Bertholdt’s resigned sighs and you throwing a book at him, and it only gets you, “Keep acting like that and I’ll take a bite out of your juicy ass next, creampie,” and a heat that kisses at your face.

Not even after reclaiming Trost and losing yourself in his arms.

You feel something inside you shatter as the smell of ash tickles at your nose. Walking past the combat medics base they set up for the parameter of the recovery effort, you don’t even look up at any of your friends still left as you walk past. Your entire body burns from the aftermath of Trost, and you wonder if you’ll be able to even get up in the morning as you limp over to a secluded alleyway and lean against the stone.

You don’t know if you’ve ever fought for that long or hard in your life, and you can’t feel your legs anymore as you sink to the floor.

Too many bodies. There are too many bodies.

“Hey.”

Looking up, you pull your mask down when Reiner stands before you. Tearing the fabric off your neck, you draw your knees up and rest your arms on top of them, the mask hanging off your fingers limply. A strange relieving wave washes over you to know he’s still here, even surrounded by so much death.

“Hi,” you murmur. “It’s a lot.”

“Yeah,” he agrees simply, leaning in beside you and sliding down. Their knees knock into one another as he tugs his own mask down. Sweat glistens along his skin and his sleeves are rolled up as he clears his throat. “I’m glad you made it out.”

You smile faintly at him but it flickers out before it can find a place on your face. Looking at your hands, you imagine the rough skin of calluses forming on your palms still and you wish you could rip your gloves off but every part of you is too exhausted to move now. Softly, you tell him, “I’m glad you made it out, too. There are a few of us I haven’t really caught sight of. I know Eren’s squad is dead. I—“ you stop yourself. No way Reiner is interested in the fact that you had taken their deaths in stride because you had to in the moment and now you don’t think you can feel at all— “but… Marco. I haven’t seen him in days. Jean hasn’t seen him either.”

“M-Marco?” Reiner whispers and your eyes lift to look at him. “You haven’t found him yet?” Gaze widening at the colour draining from Reiner’s face, your stomach flips and a dread fills your entire being as you sit upright, your legs sliding down, your arms falling to the ground to prop yourself up. Lungs tightening, your lips part as if to form his name but no sound comes out.

You know what his silence means. His silence is death spelt out in glaring red letters—the same shade as blood. 

But Marco?

Why Marco? A caustic voice screams inside you and your nails dig into the cobblestone as Reiner turns his face away, jaw clenching. Trying to breathe, the air stalls in your throat and your gut clenches as your gaze drifts to the street full of combat medics and doctors, other soldiers who still walk. What—what do you mean Marco isn’t one of them? You want to grab Reiner by the jacket, shake him until he makes sense, but instead you search for freckles behind every mask, stumbling to your feet. Marco never did anything wrong. He was supposed to join the MPs. He was our… our leader. He never did anything wrong.

He never did anything wrong. Never. Never. Not Marco. It can’t be. The thought tumbles through your head as you push yourself to your feet but your knees nearly give in on the first step and you stumble to the other side of the alleyway with a harsh noise. Shoulder crashing into the stone, your eyes squeeze tight and hot tears pour down your face as you clench your teeth, trying to chain back the sob that’s working through your body. Head hanging, your mouth pries open as an ugly moan comes out of you, so deep inside you that you want to crumble.

Days seem to pile onto your shoulders until you think your bones will break and your fingers curl into tight fists as you try to stop the tears from falling, but they keep coming, tracing your nose, pushing everywhere and everything is so hot. Shit, you can’t even breathe—

Hands take your shoulders and you let out a ferocious scream, thrashing yourself out of your grip but fingers only slide to your biceps, pulling you away from the wall as your boots slip against the cobblestone and then hands are on your wrists, pushing away your blind fists.

“Let me go! He’s dead, isn’t he?” you scream as he lets go of you for just a second to wrap his arms around you and you let out a shuddering breath as he crushes you in his embrace. “Reiner! Tell me! Marco’s dead!”

“Yes! Yes, he is!”

His words spear through your skull, sending electricity down your spine and your entire body goes limp as he collapses to his knees, you with him. Your arms at your side, your eyes blink open and you feel fresh tears fall down your face as he cups the back of your head, holding you to him and as something wet seeps into your shoulder, it’s as if you are set on fire.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

 On their own accord, your arms come up under his and fingers hook onto his shoulders. Chest to chest, you swear your heart beats in a mournful beat with his, and his entire body collapses against yours. Eyes closing, you press yourself closer, hoping that the heat of his body will chase away the cold that’s rapidly spreading through your body.

Reiner’s arm around your waist tightens. You swallow hard against his shoulder.

“Please forgive me,” he whispers against your neck, wet cheek pressing against your jaw, and your chest stutters as you try to remember how to breathe.

“Reiner…”

You barely breathe his name. It only makes him curl tighter against you.

.

Liberio is colder at night than he remembers. He has to pull the blankets up to his chin, and still, he shivers.

Rolling onto his side, he can nearly imagine you staring back beside him, smiling, hand reaching to touch his face, and his eyes flutter shut when your fingers seem to pass through his cheek.

In his mind, you’re wearing the white blouse and long purple skirt again, long riding boots covering dark pants, innocent smile on your face as you wait for him in the noon sunlight. 

By then, he had known there weren’t any devils on Paradis, but he’d never seen an angel until he saw you cast in gold.

[soobmint]

when the ice begins to thaw | kang taehyun [f] ice prince! au, 10.4k words

s u m m a r y : The rumors of the Ice Prince, Kang Taehyun, that run throughout the kingdom of Glacies are nothing short of terrifying. Known as a spoiled boy who does nothing but take advantage of the horrors bestowed upon the kingdom by his grandfather, the late king, Taehyun is feared and despised by nearly all of his subjects. When you decide to take matters into your own hands as the kingdom’s greatest thief by plotting to steal the crown that harnesses the prince’s unjustly earned powers, you are surprised to find out that perhaps the Ice Prince is not exactly who everyone fears him to be.

c o n t e n t s : kang taehyun x fem reader, ice prince! taehyun, thief! reader, lots and lots of fluff, very mild angst, features enhypen’s 02 line!!

t a g l i s t : @honeyju @chanluster @tyonfs @magicalstellar

n o t e : this oneshot is my contribution to the five princes collaboration! you can find the masterlist for the collab here. check out the other participants’ blogs too! [ @bffsoobin, @juunnies, @honeyju, @gyuluster ]. this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you guys enjoy it!

FOR SOMEONE WHO WAS THOUGHT TO BE THE GREATEST THIEF AROUND, YOU WEREN’T VERY QUICK ON YOUR FEET. 

It had been nearly half an hour since you had set your way across the icy bridge that led to the palace, nothing but the cloak of night to conceal you and your companions. You had studied the palace’s floor plan for months leading up to your mission, but for some reason, during all that time you hadn’t really thought of how difficult it would be to cross this god forsaken bridge. Your feet nearly came out from under you with every step you took, and it was so narrow that the four of you had to walk in a single file line.

 Speaking of your companions, the three boys that accompanied you were proving to be an obstacle to your success all on their own.

 “Jake, you have to keep up.”

 You turned to see Jay, your self-proclaimed “second-in-command,” pulling Jake along by the wrist. The former liked to brag and say that he was among the most elite group in the village, boasting a great air of bravery and courage. However, now that he was actually in the face of danger, he seemed to be the most cowardly out of them all. Sunghoon, the brains of the operation, held up the rear of the group, shaking his head in exasperation at his companions.

 You sighed, bringing the group to a halt as you turned to face them, arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t feel as though I should have to remind you, boys, but we’re not here to play,” You said, giving Jake and Jay the heat of your glare. “Jake, if you’re too scared to help out, I suggest you back out now before it’s too late. Oh, and Jay, leave the leading to me, would you?”

 While Jay mimicked your voice in the most obnoxious way possible, no doubt completely disregarding what you had just asked of him, Jake ripped his arm free of Jay’s grasp and puffed up his chest. “Me, scared? Oh please, Y/N. I’m flattered that you think about me enough to care, but you’re looking at one of Glacies’ greatest rising legends! The future generations will tell stories about me, no doubt.” He threw you a careless wink, and you had to fight back the impulse to cackle out loud at how ridiculous he looked. “And you’ll get to say you had the pleasure of knowing me. Or perhaps even the pleasure of having courted me as well?”

 From where he stood behind him, Sunghoon smacked the back of Jake’s head. That seemed to be enough to shut him up nicely.

 “Anyways,” You continued, “We’re losing moonlight. I needn’t remind you of the fact that if we don’t make it out of here with the crown tonight, we’ll likely never get to see justice restored to our kingdom. Understood?”

 “Perfectly,” Jay said, his voice strained in forced submission to your authority. You merely rolled your eyes—you were quite used to him and his attitude after spending nearly your entire life with him and the other two that accompanied you.

 “She’s right, you know.” Sunghoon spoke for the first time since the four of you had set out on your assignment. You began to move forward again, the rest of the group following close behind. “The palace security is weaker tonight because the crown prince sent an assembly of guards to accompany the prince of Regna Terrae back to his home. The odds of us finding another gap in security like this are—”

 “Incredibly slim, yes, we know,” Jake said. “You’ve only told us about twelve dozen times.”

 “Maybe if I thought you were actually listening to me, I wouldn’t feel the need to repeat myself so often.”

 “Well maybe if you weren’t such a pain in my—”

 “Shh.” You held up your hand as you came to a stop again, after having finally set foot off the slippery bridge and onto the snow-covered walkway that led to the huge gates made of solid ice. Some might have tried to simply break through the ice to earn entry to the palace, but you knew better.

 This was no regular formation of ice—it was ice forged by the crown’s magic.

 You looked around for any sign of stray guards. If your team’s predictions had been correct, the guards would have been switching their stations at this time. You had approximately four minutes and fifty-three seconds to get through the gates before the rotation was settled, so there was no time to lose.

 You glanced behind you, noticing that the boys had all replaced their teasing and playful mannerisms with serious gazes hardened by determination. With a single nod from you, everything was set into motion. Jay handed you the rope and hook from his bag, and you wasted no time in tossing it over the gate, pulling it tightly until you were certain that it had successfully latched onto the top. Jake knelt in front of you, folding his hands before extending them towards you. You placed your foot in his hands, waiting for him to give you a boost.

 “Are you sure you can do this by yourself?” He asked.

 “Yes, I’m positive,” You assured him. “You guys need to head to the far side of the wall and wait for me there. Sunghoon knows what to do if I’m in danger, but everything will be fine. Now hurry up and boost me.”

 After a moment longer of hesitation, Jake thrusted his hands up while you jumped up at the same time, reaching out to grab the rope while you planted your feet against the icy gate. You let out a tiny sigh of relief when your feet didn’t slide off or cause you to fall—the boots that Sunghoon had designed to grip the ice were proving to be just as effective as he had claimed. You pulled yourself up the rope, moving as quickly as possible without letting your feet slip.

 You soon found yourself perched at the top of the gate, your huff of relief turning into a cloud in the cold air. The view was nothing short of magnificent; fountains with frozen displays of various animals and flora, a grove of trees painted blue with ice and frost, and the castle. If you had the leisure to simply stop and observe the spiraling towers made of crystal ice, the beautiful clouds of eternal snow that remained stationary above the palace, the giant snowflake patterns that were imprinted along each outer wall, you would have stayed there just looking for ages.

 But you knew that sightseeing was not on your agenda. When you glanced over your shoulder, you were happy to see that the boys had already left for their station, leaving you on your own. It took you no time to spring into action. You jumped down from the top of the gate, the impact of hitting the ground sending an echo of pain up your legs and to your core, but you quickly shook it off and sprinted towards the outer wall of one of the towers. Your informant from within the palace had sent word that the window you were about to climb into was the best place of entry. It was in a distant hallway that was close enough to the throne room for you to have easy access to the crown, but far enough away from where the guards were stationed that the chance of them being alerted to your entry was small.

 You threw your grappling hook up again, this time latching it on the sill of the open window. Without Jake’s boost, it took you a bit longer to climb the rope, but you were no amateur when it came to breaking and entering. Soon enough, you had dropped down into the stairway that lied beyond the window, thanking your lucky stars yet again for Sunghoon and his slip-proof boots.

 Your footsteps echoed throughout the walls of ice, and you bit the inside of your cheek, taking care to make your steps as soft as possible. The past months, you had done practically nothing aside from memorize the floorplan of the palace, but you couldn’t help how nervous you were beginning to feel. This was nothing like when you snuck into the kitchen at the local tavern to snatch some food for the hungry kids, or when you broke into the overstock building for the tailors to grab a few winter coats for those who needed them.

 This was the castle, and you were there to steal the crown. Not just for your own good, but for the good of everyone else in the Kingdom of Glacies.

 When you finally reached the throne room, your heart was practically in your throat. Typically the cool headed one of your band of thieves, this feeling of pure anxiety was something new to you. With a shaky breath to calm your nerves, you peeked around the corner to take a look at what awaited you in the throne room.

 There were two thrones at the far end of the room, made of spiraling ice spires and decorated with intricately detailed snowflakes that would never melt. One was a bit taller than the other—the King’s throne, no doubt—while the other didn’t reach quite as high in the air, but that didn’t make it any less marvelous of a sight to behold. The real piece of beauty in the dimly lit room of ice, however, was the pedestal that sat just between the two thrones which held the giant, sparkling crown made of ice and snow.

 It was the King’s crown; the bane of every Glacian’s existence. And it just so happened to be what you planned to walk out of the palace with that night.

 Stationed right in front of the crown, two guards stood, frozen just like the pillars of ice throughout the room. You bit your lip, growing increasingly worried as you waited for your cue to move in towards the crown.

 “Argh! You’ll never catch me, you scum!”

 Never before had you wanted to sock Jake in the face so badly as you did in that moment. He had been instructed to create a diversion, but it sounded more like he was a pirate from the Kingdom of Nymphe. His shouts spilled in through the open window right behind the thrones, filling the otherwise silent palace with his voice. If you could have trusted that Sunghoon would have been loud enough to even be heard, you would have asked him to do it instead. He was the only one who even pretended to listen to you.

 “What’s that? You think you can chase me down? With those skinny legs? Ha!”

 There was a loud bang, and you decided in that moment that when you got back to your village, you would kick Jake out of your team and encourage him to join the theatrics group instead of pursuing this line of work. Not because he was a good or compelling actor, but because he was so outlandishly obnoxious that he would fit right in.

 The guards glanced at one another, but neither of them moved from their stations. They probably assumed—or hoped—that someone else would be taking care of the lunatic outside.

 Until they heard Jake shout, “Take that!” which was followed by a large crash, and another slew of empty threats. The guards quickly ran out one of the back entrances of the throne room, finally giving you your chance to move forward.

 You were light on your feet, not even making a sound as you dashed across the iced floor. With one leap, you skipped up the few steps that led to the crown. It was even more stunning close up, just as alluring as all the stories surrounding it had claimed. Blue jewels frosted over were embedded in the crown, which was made of solid ice, just like the palace that it sat in. The most mesmerizing part about it, however, was the flurry of never-ending snow that surrounded it, as though it were a part of its own atmosphere, separate from the rest of the world.

 Your heart stormed within your chest, and you thought it might burst right out of you. Everything you had prepared for had led to this moment, but now that it was finally here, you were beyond terrified. But you were ready.

 You stretched your hands out towards the crown, but before you could even feel its icy surface beneath your gloved hands, you felt someone’s body press flush against yours from behind, one arm holding you around your shoulders, and the other pressing the edge of an ice dagger against your throat.

 Heart in your stomach, you were silent for a few moments. Someone had caught you. It was over. It was all over. You prayed that Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon had gotten away safely, that only you would have to pay the price for trying to seek justice for your kingdom.

 You had practically written your own eulogy in your head when you heard the person speak, their breath tickling the back of your neck as they tightened the ice cold grip they had on you.

 “You know, it is wrong to take something that isn’t yours.”

 A man’s voice. You could tell right away, and his words made your blood boil. Perhaps you should have bitten your tongue, but you couldn’t keep the venomous words from leaving your mouth.

 “It’s not wrong to take back something that was yours to begin with, is it?”

 “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost. Does this crown belong to you?”

 “It doesn’t just belong to me,” You seethed, “It belongs to every single Glacian, those alive and those who have passed, and I’m here to take it back.”

 With that, you quickly snatched the knife from the man’s hand and spun around, pressing the blade against his throat this time, grabbing onto the front of his shirt to hold him in place.

 When you saw his face, you knew you were a goner for sure.

 Piercing blue eyes, a sharp jawline, blonde hair so light, it was almost white. His skin seemed to be made of ice, and his lips were set in an amused grin, one of his perfectly shaped brows arched upward.

 You were holding the edge of a dagger against the neck of Kang Taehyun, the Ice Prince himself.

 With the simple flick of his wrist, the dagger in your hand dissolved into snow, falling from your grasp in an instant.

 His eyes drew you in and he held you with his gaze; frozen, unable to move, a fistful of his white sleepshirt still held within your fist. Your imagination began to run wild as you tried to predict what would happen next. Based off of what you had heard about the prince, you expected him to turn you to ice right then and there, perhaps preserving you in his room full of iced prisoners that he was rumored to have, or maybe he would just shatter you to bits and pieces right away, like a glass smashed against a stone floor.

 You decided to take your last shot at doing what you had gone there to do.

 You quickly shook yourself from the prince’s grip, pushing him back onto the icy floor. When he no longer had a hold on you, you lunged towards the crown, hearing Taehyun shout, “Wait!” before the tips of your fingers barely touched one of the crown’s jewels. When you made contact with the crown, you felt a sharp pain in your neck, and with great force, you were thrown back onto the ice, landing right next to the prince himself.

 The pain was spreading from your neck to the rest of your body, like frost creeping up blades of grass. You pressed your hand against your neck and couldn’t hold back a gasp when you saw blood covering your palm.

 Before you knew it, Taehyun was leaning over you, gently cupping your neck in his hands. You closed your eyes, certain that he was about to strangle you for your vain attempt at destroying the crown. His fingers were like icicles against your skin; smooth, strong, and deathly cold.

 But he didn’t strangle you. He didn’t even squeeze your neck or try to block your airways at all. Instead, he lightly brushed his cold fingers over your skin. As he did so, you could feel the pain melt from your body.

 “There you go,” He said softly. He helped you back to your feet, and you opened your eyes, pressing your hand against the place where your wound had been just moments before. There was not a trace of blood left in sight.

 “What was that?” You whispered, holding Taehyun’s gaze.

 Before he could answer, you heard three familiar voices fill the chilly throne room. With eyes round as saucers, you peeked over the Prince’s shoulder to see Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay being dragged in by not one, two, or even three—but five palace guards. Where said guards had even come from, you had not a clue.

 There was, however, one thing you knew for sure: your plan had failed, and the price of failure was going to be your life.

 Or at least, you thought it would be, before the prince saved you.

 You swallowed, wishing that you could have at least seen your companions walk free. This whole mission was your idea, after all. You alone should have been held responsible for the failure. Heart racing, you grasped at endless threads of half-strung ideas that wove in and out of your mind, trying desperately to figure out some way to save the boys.

 “Please,” you said, your eyes meeting Taehyun’s, “Let them go. I drug them here; they have nothing to do with this. You can turn me to ice, kill me, do whatever it is that you desire. Just let them go, please.”

 “Y/N, don’t,” Sunghoon said firmly, but you ignored him, keeping your eyes fixated on the prince.

 Taehyun’s eyes softened, his brows knitting together, almost as if he were hurt by your pleas. He was being just as cautious as you were—perhaps even more so. “I have no intentions of harming you or your friends, my lady. In fact, the desires of my heart are quite the opposite of what you assume them to be.”

 You raised a brow. “Please, enlighten me of your true intentions then, Ice Prince.”

 “I want to help you.”

 “Oh, come on,” Jay groaned. You shot a glare that would freeze any normal man, but alas, Jay was far from normal, so he continued to speak. “Y/N, don’t listen to a word this prick says. If he wanted to help his people, he would have done so by now.”

 Although you wanted to cut out his tongue from how annoyed you were by Jay’s habit to speak up during the most inappropriate times, you knew that your friend had a point. The people of Glacies had been driven to desolation and poverty by the late king’s actions, while in your eyes, the rest of the royal family did nothing but sit idly by and watch it all happen.

 But you had just seen a side of the prince that was entirely different from every story you had ever been told about him. When your life was on the line, he didn’t kill you or laugh mercilessly as he watched the life leave your body. He had saved you.

 Taehyun turned to face your friends, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. The prince motioned for the guards to release their holds on your friends. They did as they were told, and the three boys were much too shocked by Taehyun’s instructions to do anything but stand there, frozen, keeping their eyes glued to the prince as he spoke once more.

 “I understand why you’re here,” He said, glancing over his shoulder at the crown. He locked eyes with you for a split second before he looked back at the boys. “I want the same thing you do. But I’m afraid that there’s no way for you to achieve your goal by simply taking the crown. It’s far more complicated.”

 “What do you mean you ‘want the same thing’ we do?” Jake finally spoke after regaining some sensibility—though he never had all that much to begin with, in your opinion. “Do you even truly know what we are here for?”

 “You want to destroy the crown and restore the kingdom to its former state of balance,” Taehyun said. “Am I correct?”

 “It’s not just that,” Sunghoon finally spoke up, his cool, calculating eyes drifting between you and Taehyun, as if he expected the prince to turn around and attack you at any given moment. “We want to undo all the pain and suffering your family has caused us. Do you even know how desolate your people have become while you’ve wasted away in your palace for the past two decades, Your Highness?”

 Taehyun frowned, casting his eyes down to his feet. “I’m well aware. I know it may not look like it, but I’ve been doing everything I can to help reverse the pain my family has caused our kingdom. But I realized that I can’t do it alone.”

 He turned to face you then, and you were surprised to find yourself drawn to his piercing eyes rather than being struck down by fear. His gaze was urgent, but it was gentle.

 “I need you to help me.”

 “No. Absolutely not.” You tore your eyes from Taehyun to glare at Jake, who had decided once again to speak out of turn. “Y/N, you can’t trust him! Don’t do it.”

 You knew where Jake was coming from, but you couldn’t help but feel as though Taehyun was telling the truth. And even if the prince were lying, you would probably never have the chance to get this close to the crown again. Even then, it was clearly impossible for you to touch the crown, as you had nearly died trying to do so just moments before.

 You had no choice. You were going to stay with Taehyun.

 “I just have one condition,” You said, ignoring the objections that flew from the lips of your friends. “You let them go. Now.”

 “Of course,” Taehyun said without a moment’s hesitation. “I have no intentions of keeping anyone here against their will. Yourself included. But if you truly want to destroy the crown, I need you to stay with me. Just for a few days.”

 You nodded, keeping your eyes trained on his. “Alright. But the moment I sense that you’re lying to me, Your Highness, not even the four princes of the surrounding kingdoms will be able to save you from my wrath. Understood?”

 Perhaps you were just seeing things, but you could have sworn that you saw the prince smile when he said, “Perfectly.”

 -

 WHEN YOU WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, THERE WAS A NOTE ON YOUR BEDSIDE TABLE.

 Well, it wasn’t your bedside table, but rather the one in the bedroom Taehyun had lent to you for the duration of your stay. The night before, against all their complaints, you had sent Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon back to the village with instructions to search for you if you didn’t return in a week’s time. After they had left, you wanted to talk to Taehyun right away, but he had disappeared from your sight, leaving you with a guard who said that the Prince had gone to bed, and that you were encouraged to do so as well.

 You stretched your arms above your head, squinting in the morning sunlight that slipped through the curtains, and picked up the note from the table.

 I hope you found the room suitable for resting. When you wake, put something on from the closet in your room then come to the dining hall for breakfast, if you’d like. One of the maids will escort you there.

 —Taehyun

 You sighed, folding the note up and setting it back on the table. After another good stretch, your feet met the cold floor and you slumped over to the large closet, throwing the doors open. Your eyes were met with dresses in varying lengths and shades of blues and periwinkles, and shoes to match them all. A great sigh left you at the sight—you did not wear dresses. But the pants and shirt you had come to the palace in were caked with mud and sweat, so you had no choice but to change, and it wasn’t like you had many options.

 Begrudgingly, you searched through all the hanging gowns, finally settling on a long sleeved, ankle-length frosty blue dress made of lace that held subtle snowflake patterns throughout the skirt. It was the most practical looking one amidst all the others, but you still found yourself already growing annoyed at the lack of freedom you felt in the skirt. You put on the pair of shoes that went along with the gown and stopped by the mirror, running your hands through your tangled hair before you finally stepped out of the bedroom.

 A maid was waiting outside the door, just as Taehyun had said she would be. You followed her down the stairs of ice, hugging your arms across your chest as you shivered from the cold.

 “I know this is the Ice Prince’s palace, but does it have to be so cold?” You asked, your teeth chattering. There was no response from the maid as you went down the last flight of stairs and found yourself walking into a large dining room, with a glass table in the center of the room and a dozen chairs surrounding it. The floor was frosted over, and snowflakes fell from the ceiling, though they melted away as soon as they hit the floor. Only the seat at the head of the table was occupied—Taehyun sat there, dressed nicely in a dark blue suit, his hair parted neatly to the side. He smiled when he saw you, motioning for you to take the seat beside of him.

 You sat down slowly, taking great care to cross your legs so you didn’t accidentally expose too much of yourself. Taehyun eyed you curiously as you reached for the cup of tea that a servant had sat down for you.

 “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem to be a little bit uncomfortable,” He said, sliding a plate of fruits and breakfast pastries towards you. You accepted them gratefully, noticing just how hungry you were now that you could smell food. “Is it because of the dress?”

 You nodded, swallowing the grape you had tossed into your mouth before responding. “Dresses were not meant to be worn by thieves, Your Highness.”

 He hummed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not sure if I would classify you as a thief, my lady. I personally find the term ‘vigilante’ more suitable.”

 You paused, the piece of chocolate bread that you had pinched off frozen halfway to your mouth. You set it down, narrowing your eyes at Taehyun. “What do you know about me?”

 He smiled, taking a sip from his own teacup. “I know what I’ve heard. You are Y/N, the greatest thief throughout all of Glacies—some would even say throughout all the Five Kingdoms. You know this kingdom like the palm of your hand, and you’re extremely good at not getting caught. Unless, of course, you find yourself in my home.”

 You scowled, looking away from him as your cheeks grew warm.

 He laughed for a moment, but his tone grew quieter when he spoke again. “I also know that you almost never steal for self-gain. You take for yourself what is necessary for survival, but the rest of your plunders go to the starving and impoverished people of our kingdom. You take from those who have more than enough and give to those who having nothing at all.”

 To say you were speechless would have been an understatement. You were under the impression that the prince despised his people, just as his father and grandfather had before him. But now you were to believe that he knew of your existence, long before you had even made an attempt to steal the crown?

 You poked at the food on your plate, your appetite suddenly gone as your mind churned with questions.

 “Well, since you seem to know so much about me, allow me to inquire about yourself, Your Highness,” you said, setting your fork down and folding your hands in your lap.

 He nodded with unabashed enthusiasm, scooting forward in his seat. “Of course. Ask me anything.”

 You held up three fingers. “I have three questions. One—what happened when I tried to touch the crown last night?”

 “Ah,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table. “Well, as you’re well aware, my grandfather channeled all of the kingdom’s magic into that crown. It’s the most powerful object throughout all the kingdom.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

 He nodded, pressing his lips together. “Well, when my grandfather had the great spell cast upon the crown, it also came with a protective curse. Only those with royal blood flowing through their veins are able to touch the crown, and anyone else who attempts to do so . . . well.” He gestured to your neck, where the magic cut had sliced through your skin. “You saw what happens.”

 “And you have healing powers, apparently,” you said, running your hands against the smooth skin of your neck, double checking just to make sure that no trace of the injury was left there.

 “Not exactly. Because all of the kingdom’s magic is held within the crown, I have access to all the ice magic in the kingdom,” Taehyun explained. “Healing just happens to be one of those powers, among ice manipulation, the ability to turn things into ice, control of the snowstorms, the power to generate snowstorms, the power to plant things in frozen ground. . . you get the picture, I assume. Because of the overwhelming amount of capabilities I’ve been granted due to my grandfather’s spell, I’m not sure what my actual ability is.”

 You nodded once, slowly, trying to keep up with the influx of information. You put one of your fingers down, then said, “Question two. I know you’re the Ice Prince, but why in all the five kingdoms is it absolutely freezing in here? Can’t we start a fire or something for a bit of warmth?”

 Taehyun laughed, although you struggled to see what was so funny as a shiver went up your spine. “Another lovely perk of the crown’s magic; because my entire being is so reliant upon its powers, I’m quite weak on my own. My body temperature can’t go above a certain degree, or I’ll perish. So I’m afraid we must keep it quite cold in here for the time being.”

 “It seems like this crown is doing you more harm than good,” You muttered, slightly disappointed by his answer as you were hoping to garner a bit of extra warmth. You shook it off, putting another finger down and leaving only one remaining up in the air. “Last question. Why do you want to help us, and why am I the right person to help you?”

 “That’s two questions in one, isn’t it?”

 You rolled your eyes, and Taehyun quickly wiped the teasing smirk off his face, his expression growing grim as he prepared to answer your final question—or questions, as the prince had been so kind to point out.

 “I know it doesn’t compare to the pain that the rest of our people have gone through—yourself included—but the crown’s spell has done more harm than good for my family as well,” Taehyun said.

 “How so?” You asked.

 “As I explained before, those of us with royal blood are incredibly reliant upon the crown,” he began. “Because of this, we aren’t able to be far from it, or we become incredibly weak, and eventually, we will die.”

 Your eyes went wide at that, your mind racing. You hadn’t thought of the possibility that the crown could be harming the royal family at all, especially not in such a deadly way. “So, have you never left the palace?”

 He shook his head, looking down at his hands. “Not even once.” He sighed, bringing his eyes back up to yours. “My sister left us, a few years after my grandfather died and a few years before my father passed. She fell in love with the stable boy, and they decided to run away. At the time, we knew that we would become weak without the crown. But we didn’t know how weak we would be. Two weeks after their great escape, the stable boy returned. And my sister. . . she was dead. My father had the stable boy put to death immediately upon his return.”

 You covered your mouth with your hand, stifling the gasp that threatened to slip past your lips. The royal family was so isolated from the rest of the kingdom, that none of you had even heard of the princess’ passing.

 “So then, you’ve been alone all this time, since your father passed?” You asked, your voice quiet and careful.

 He nodded, his eyes shining with tears that never fell. “Correct. And that is why, now more than ever, I want to reconnect with the people my family has driven to desolation. I know how harmful it has been for our kingdom since we have kept all of the magic to ourselves. You haven’t been able to farm, to use the magic for yourselves, or even turn the ice into water for necessary use. By hoarding all the magic to ourselves, we have forced our people into poverty. I want to right what we have done wrong. And that is where you come in, my lady.”

 “That’s the second part of my last question,” You said, pushing your plate back so you could lean forward against the table. “Why do you need my help?”

 He smiled, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, the action so rushed you had barely registered its occurrence. “I’ve spent the past two years studying the origins of the spell on the crown. There’s supposedly a cave near the border between Glacies and Terrae where my grandfather traveled to have the spell cast, and in order to break the spell, I have to take it back there. And, according to my sources, nobody in the land knows their way around the caves quite as well as you do.”

 “I’m flattered, although I am quite curious to know who’s been saying such kind words about me behind my back,” you said, wishing you knew who Taehyun had been in communication with that would know of your occupation and skillsets. “So, what I am gathering is this; you want me to guide you to this cave and help you break the spell in order to finally have the magic distributed back into the kingdom?”

 “Precisely. Only if you are willing to do so, of course.”

 It was your turn to smile then as you stood to your feet, extending your hand towards him for a shake. “You needn’t ask me twice, Your Highness. When do we leave?”

 He stood as well, his smile mirroring your own as he took your hand in his and shook it. “We head out first thing tomorrow morning, my lady. Until then, let us prepare. Together.”

 -

 YOU AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING TO THE SOUND OF A CRACKLING FIRE.

 Beneath your face was something warm and soft, but not quite as soft as the pillow you had slept upon the night before. When your eyes fluttered open, you were surprised to see that you had fallen asleep in the drawing room, the map you and Taehyun had spent all day studying spread out on the table before you, and your head resting upon his shoulder.

 You quickly sat up, brushing your hands through your hair in an attempt to fix the wild strands. Taehyun was already awake, smiling at you as you looked away, cheeks growing warm.

 “Did you sleep well?” He asked. It was still early in the morning—so early that the sun had not even risen yet, leaving the room bathed in the predawn darkness.

 You shrugged, daring to look back at him only to see him smirking at you in the dark. “Well enough, I suppose,” you mumbled, your eyes finally landing on the source of the sound you had awoken to. In the corner of the room, Taehyun had gathered a pile of logs and started a small fire atop them, casting a soft orange glow upon the room made of ice. You gasped, turning back towards the prince. Beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead and cheeks, and you noticed that his breaths were much more labored than they had been before.

 “Taehyun, what are you thinking?” You asked, grabbing his arm firmly. “Go put that out. Now.”

 “You were shivering,” He said, refusing to let his eyes meet yours. “I didn’t want to see you suffer. It’s the least I could do after all you have been through because of us—if I can suffer in your place, I will do so gladly.”

 You sighed in exasperation, grasping his hand in your own. He looked at you then, eyes wide from the unexpected contact. “Your Highness, you have been doing everything within your power so far to right what has been wrong for so long. I refuse to let you blame yourself and cause yourself any form of pain for something that has always been out of your control. In order for us to finish this, we must do so together. Now, go put that fire out or I will be forced to find a way to do it myself. And I will have you know that my methods are not usually the safest.”

 He sighed, finally giving in as he raised his hand, a gust of icy wind blowing past your face and killing the fire on the far side of the room. You sighed in relief, giving his hand a squeeze before you let it go.

 “Thank you,” he whispered. “I do not feel as though I deserve your kindness nor your understanding, but I am grateful to be receiving it regardless.”

 “Everyone deserves kindness and understanding, Your Highness. Especially you.”

 After that, the two of you grabbed a quick breakfast from the dining hall and gathered all your supplies from the drawing room before you threw on a thick cloak, allowing Taehyun to lead you out into the snow and to the stables. He introduced you to the reindeer named Atlas that would be pulling your sled, and then led you into the stable where the sled was stored in order for the two of you to finish gathering a few last-minute supplies before you were to head out on your quest.

 While Taehyun began throwing things into the back of the sled, you became distracted by a wall strung with weaponry. A quiver of arrows caught your eye, and you reached up to pull a single arrow out, observing it closely.

 “This looks like something Jake would be interested in,” you mused, twirling the arrow between your fingertips before you set it back in its place. “He’s been trying to improve his archery.”

 Perhaps it was your imagination, but when you looked back at Taehyun, you could have sworn you saw his smile falter, at least for a moment. He shook it off though, throwing a sack of food into the back of the sled before he asked, “So, you and this Jake guy. How long have you been courting?”

 You nearly choked on the stable’s air, throwing your hand against your chest in shock. “I’m sorry, what?”

 He raised a brow, turning to face you fully. “You are courting him, aren’t you? He seemed to be concerned for you in a way that went deeper than friendship, from what I was able to observe.”

 “Oh, please. Jake flirts with anyone who even bats an eye in his direction. We are not in a relationship.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the mere thought. “The only time I ever touch that man is when I’m trying to slap some sense into him—and I mean that quite literally.”

 Taehyun laughed, almost as though he were relieved, while he began to tighten the reins that kept Atlas anchored to the sled. “Would you ever consider courting him? If he asked you to, of course.”

 “He has asked, and I’ve never considered saying anything other than no.” You picked up the pile of blankets one of the servants had left by the sled and lifted it over the edge, making sure they landed right in the middle of the bench where the two of you were to be seated. “He is not my type.”

 Taehyun leaned back against the sled, the slight smirk you had grown accustomed to seeing taking over his features once again. “Well, what exactly is your type, my lady?”

 You went still, not sure why his question made your stomach flutter like a disturbed nest of bluebirds. You had never really given this much thought before, but now that he had asked you, your mind was instantly flooded with thoughts of cold hands and warm smiles, icy eyes and flushed cheeks, strong arms and gentle words.

 You turned away from him before you spoke, trying your best to be nonchalant. “I think I’d like to find someone that I understand more than anyone else. Somebody that the rest of world may see as cold and brittle, but someone I know to be warm and soft on the inside.”

 When there was nothing but silence after your words, you dared to glance back over your shoulder at the prince. Upon doing so, you were more than a little bit happy to see that you had made him just as flustered as he had made you, with his cheeks and nose painted cherry red—and not just from the cold.

 He cleared his throat, biting his lip to keep his smile from being too obvious. “Good to know. If I ever meet someone who I think would meet those standards, I’ll be sure to send them your way.”

 “Oh, please do,” You said, glad that the tense silence was thawing. “And quickly if you don’t mind. The elders in my community remind me at every passing chance that my childbearing years will be over before I know it, since that’s apparently all that matters.”

 That earned an even bigger laugh from him, which caused to you giggle in return. When he smiled at you again, you couldn’t help but lose yourself in his eyes. But who could blame you when they sparkled like freshly fallen snow beneath the morning sunlight?

 “I’ll keep that in mind, my lady.” He hoisted himself into the sled and extended his hand out towards you, his brilliant smile never once falling from his face as he said, “Now, what do you say we go and restore this kingdom to its former glory? I believe it’s long overdue.”

 -

 THE SLEIGH RIDE THROUGH THE KINGDOM HAD BEEN FAIRLY PEACEFUL, FOR THE MOST PART. Taehyun had the reins and was guiding Atlas through the snow-capped mountains while you held the map and directed him, although you could practically navigate your way throughout the kingdom with your eyes closed, no doubt.

 The scenery was beautiful in some ways. Trees weighed down by ice coated branches, casting rainbows across the ground as the sunshine reflected through them. The deep snow covered the ground, coating the entire landscape in a blanket of endless white. You sighed, perhaps a bit too loudly as you gained Taehyun’s attention.

 “What could possibly be weighing so heavy on your mind to earn such a heavy sigh, my lady?”

 You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that took over your lips at his jest. “I’m just tired of all the ice, I suppose. It’s so suffocating. It kills all the beautiful things and leaves us with nothing in return but cold.”

 “That’s not how I see it though,” Taehyun said, holding onto the reins with one hand so he could keep the other around your shoulders, making sure you didn’t fall out of the sled as you crossed over a particularly bumpy patch of ground.

 “What do you mean?” You asked, willing your expression to remain steadfast lest you reveal how flustered you were by Taehyun’s physical contact.

 He smirked, and you cursed yourself internally, knowing that perhaps the faint flush in your cheeks had given you away after all.

 “I mean, I see the ice as more of a new beginning than an ending,” He explained. “Of course, it does freeze everything over for a while, but it thaws eventually. And when it does, everything starts all over again. The rivers start running, the flowers begin to bloom, the animals come out of their sleep. Everything begins again, until it is time to freeze once more.”

 “Well, that sounds nice in theory, my dear prince, but I am afraid there’s something you are forgetting,” You said.

 “And what is that?”

 “This is the Kingdom of Glacies. Well, the version your grandfather created, that is.” The smile fell from your lips. “The ice here never thaws.”

 “Maybe the kingdom is still waiting for its new beginning,” He said. Gently, he grabbed your chin and turned your face towards his. He smiled then, the action alone so bright and warm, you were surprised the snow didn’t melt right off the trees.

 “The kingdom may still be waiting for its new beginning,” He whispered, “But I think I have found mine.”

 You were speechless. Never in a million different lifetimes would you have even dared to imagine the Prince of Glacies saying such sweet words to you. Unsure of how to respond, you cleared your throat and looked away, afraid your face would melt right off at this rate. You heard the sound of rushing water not too far off, and you glanced over to see a small spring beneath a gentle waterfall.

 “We should stop there to let Atlas drink,” you suggested, leaning forward to pet the back of the reindeer. “It would be nice for us to stretch our legs too.”

 Taehyun obliged, leading Atlas over towards the spring. You were more than happy to jump out from the back of the sled and stretch your legs, and the view was nothing short of spectacular. As you drew closer to the border between Glacies and Terrae, there were a few patches of green grass peeking through the snow, and some bodies of water—like this spring—were unfrozen. Seeing the rushing body of water made you think of what Taehyun had said to you just moments ago, and you felt your heart flutter once again.

 You nearly flinched in shock when you felt him slip his fingers between yours, gripping your hand tightly.

 He smiled, running his thumb along the back of your hand. “Care to go for a stroll?”

 You nodded, deciding to push past your nervous feelings by taking the lead and pulling him along behind you. You were both quiet as you walked, taking careful steps over the snowy grass and onto the rocks that led up towards the waterfall. When you reached the fall, you stuck your hand beneath it. It was cold, of course, but you were mesmerized by how it sparkled, dots of the afternoon sun shining through the beads of water. The pressure of the waterfall was fairly low—no stronger than a drizzle of rain. The water first hit the slab of stone that the two of you were standing on before it cascaded down into another, smaller waterfall, which led into the spring that Atlas was drinking from.

 “Do you like it here?” Taehyun asked, watching the way your eyes glowed as you let the water fall between your fingers.

 You looked back at him, smiling brightly. “I love it. Don’t you?”

 He nodded, glancing up at the falls then back at you. “It’s beautiful.”

 He looked down at your hand in his for a moment, and then he gently tugged on it, causing to stumble a few steps closer to him. You raised a brow, clearly confused, but didn’t pull away.

 “How about here?” He asked.

 You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes. “Sure. I like it here as well.”

 He swallowed, gathering all the courage from every corner of his soul before he took a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you, his free hand coming up to cradle your jaw while he kept the other tightly intertwined with your own.

 Your eyes were wide, lips parted in shock, but you made no moves to distance yourself from him. Slowly, he brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, lowering his face towards yours so that he could feel your breath against his own mouth.

 “And here?” He whispered, his eyes meeting yours. “Do you like it here?”

 When you nodded once again in answer to his hushed question, he wasted no time in diminishing the space left between the two of you to gently press his lips against your own.

 His lips worked against yours perfectly as you allowed your eyes to fall shut, letting your hand fall from his grasp so you could hold his neck in your palms, your fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into him as his kiss grew deeper and you followed along, tilting your head to better match your lips with the pace of his.

 When he pulled away from you abruptly and rested his forehead against your shoulder, you knew right away that something was wrong. He was breathing deeply, his hands clutching the fabric of your dress. You cupped his cheeks in your hands and lifted his face to yours, seeing how red his cheeks, nose, and ears had gotten.

 “Taehyun? What’s wrong?”

 He let out a shaky breath, his eyes still closed, his chest still heaving. “I’m—I’m sorry. I can’t kiss you, it’s too—I’m getting too warm.”

 Your heart sank as you continued to hold his face in your hands, racking your brain for ideas. The sound of the waterfall rushing behind you filled your ears, and you glanced over your shoulder, biting your lip as an idea popped into your head.

 Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you carefully walked backwards until you felt the ice cold water cascade over your head and down your back, stopping once you and Taehyun were both standing fully beneath the waterfall.

 His eyes were wide, and he was slowly beginning to stand up straighter, his face growing less and less warm beneath your skin as the moments passed by.

 “What are you doing?” He asked, nearly shouting to be heard above the light rush of water.

 You smiled, pushing back pieces of his hair that the water had plastered to his forehead, only for them to fall right back into place.

 “Why would you ask a question with such an obvious answer, Your Highness? I’m about to kiss you.”

 He seemed to be in shock, but before he could utter out a single word in reply, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him once more beneath the cascade of icy water, the feeling of his lips against your own giving you more than enough warmth in the core of your soul.

 -

 IT DIDN’T TAKE YOU LONG TO REACH THE CAVE WHERE THE LATE KING HAD FIRST CAST THE SPELL THAT RUINED THE LAND OF GLACIES. You had set back out on the road shortly after your somewhat extended rest stop, and by following the map closely, you arrived at the mouth of a cave with icicles hanging from the top and also sticking up from the ground. It looked much like the mouth of a great beast. It was too dangerous to try and bring Atlas inside with you, so Taehyun tied him and the sled to a nearby tree. He grabbed the bag that held the crown inside of it in one hand and then made his way to your side.

 “Are you ready?” Whether his question was directed towards you or himself, you couldn’t be sure. Regardless, you took his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.

 “I am ready when you are, Your Highness.”

 He smiled before he took the first step into the cave, carefully sliding between two spires of ice and gently pulling you along behind him. The cave didn’t go on for very long, and there was no need for you to bring a lantern along with you, as the daylight that spilled in through the entrance was more than enough to light your way.

 When you reached the end of the shallow cave, a large pedestal made of stone was waiting for you. It was surrounded by a perfectly round back wall, with ancient texts inscribed on the walls. You weren’t able to decipher them, but you made your way towards the pedestal, your hand still locked with Taehyun’s.

 A large black scorch mark in the shape of a sharp snowflake tainted the surface of the pedestal. Atop it rested a tattered and torn piece of tan paper, also written in a language you were unable to read. You slowly picked it up and handed it to Taehyun. “Can you read this?”

 He nodded, squinting his eyes a bit before he read the words written on the page.

 “To seize the power given to all, you must first destroy the treasure within. To restore the treasure within your soul, you must then destroy your everything.”

 As soon as the words had left Taehyun’s lift, a violent, howling wind burst through the room. It blew with so much force that your hand was ripped from Taehyun’s, and you were thrown back against the stone wall of the cave. Taehyun was blown to the side opposite of you, and the crown fell from his grasp, landing near your feet. For some reason, the crown didn’t seem to be affected by the wind, as it remained stationary.

 “What’s going on?” You shouted, gripping at a spire of ice nearby to keep from being blown right out of the cave. Bits of sleet and snow were pricking at your skin, the chilling air feeling sharper than the blade of ice Taehyun had held against your neck just days before.

 “I don’t know,” He shouted back, gripping a rock that protruded from his side of the cave. “We need to decipher what was written down on that paper—that must be how we are to break the spell!”

 The words scribbled onto the page flashed through your mind.

 To seize the power given to all, you must first destroy the treasure within. This was obviously referring to the spell itself—the one cast by Taehyun’s grandfather. In order to steal the magic from the rest of his subjects, he had to sacrifice the most valuable power of all—his humanity.

 To restore the treasure within your soul, you must then destroy your everything.

 What had been everything to the late king?

 His power.

 His crown.

 “Taehyun!” You shouted, daring to hold on to the spire with one hand in order to point at the crown by your feet, which still remained unmoving amidst the magical storm. “The crown—you must destroy it!”

 He tried to stand, but was instantly knocked back on his rear, desperately grasping back onto the rock that kept him anchored. “I cannot make it over there to retrieve it!”

 You bit your lip, glancing between Taehyun and the crown only for a moment before you made up your mind. You knew what you had to do.

 “Y/N,” Taehyun warned, catching on to what you were about to do. “Y/N, don’t—!”

 It was too late. You used your boot to pull the crown towards you before you grasped it in your fist. Pain shot through every inch of your being—beginning in your neck, then spreading through your chest and your legs, to the tips of your fingers and the bottoms of your toes, piercing through you like the sharpest bite of frost. You cried out in pain, over the noise of Taehyun screaming for you to put it down, before you mustered up every last bit of strength within you to lurch the crown towards the prince.

 He caught it with one hand, his heart racing as he saw you fall limp to the ground, the wind battering and blowing your unconscious form around like a lone leaf in the winter’s wind. Tears stung at the back of his eyes, and he glared at the crown in his fist, all the anger and resentment he had felt towards his grandfather over all the years combined with the fear of losing you coming to a peak within him. He channeled every bit of these hostile and fearful emotions into the palm of his hand, where a burst of ice so strong was emitted that it covered the room in a blanket of white, the crown first cracking in his hand before it burst into a million shards, scattering all over the cave floor like pieces of glass.

 The storm died out immediately, and Taehyun felt a rush of energy enter into his body. He felt stronger, healthier, warmer. But none of that mattered to him. Not when you were nearly lifeless on the other side of the cave.

 “Y/N!” He shouted, tripping over his own feet as he sprinted towards you. He collapsed to the ground beside of you, gasping at the sight of blood dripping down your neck and seeping through your clothes.

 “No, no, no,” he whimpered, the tears finally slipping down his cheeks as his hands pressed against your wounds, but there were too many of them for him to cover.

Desperate, he let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He knew that he no longer had access to all the powers he once did now that the spell was broken. There was no way for him to know if his healing magic was his true form of magic.

 But he had to try.

 At first, when he tried to omit the soft glow of icy power from his palms, nothing happened. But then, he felt a familiar tickling sensation on the surface of his skin. He opened one eye, then the other, nearly breaking down in sobs of relief as he watched gentle trails of frost travel down your skin, closing all your wounds and erasing any traces of them that would normally be left behind.

 When the last cut had disappeared, your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled at him.

 “Well done, your highness. You’ve broken the curse.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you upright, crushing you against him in a hug.

 “Never do anything like that ever again,” He muttered against your ear, squeezing you even tighter. “I thought I lost you.”

 “You cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness,” you teased, pulling away just enough so you could look into his eyes. “Besides, I knew that healing magic was your true gift. I knew you would save me.”

 “And how exactly did you know that, my lady?”

 You pecked him on the nose, giggling at how red it turned afterwards. “Because you are a kind and good prince, Taehyun. And you will make a wonderful, healing king.”

 “What about you?” He asked. “We should see what ice power you have been gifted.”

 You hesitated, gently holding one of your hands out in front of you. Your brows knit together, and Taehyun laughed at the expression before he placed his hand beneath yours.

 “Feel the energy running through your veins,” He said. “Let the magic guide you.”

 Nothing happened for the first few moments. But then, one by one, snowflakes began to fall, seemingly from out of nowhere. Soon, you held a tiny snowstorm in the palm of your hand. You gasped, eyes glowing with excitement.

 “It worked,” You said, staring at what you had created in awe before you allowed it to die down.  You then cupped his cheeks in your hands, leaning closer towards him.

 “How does it feel to finally be free? What is the first thing you would like to do now?” You asked.

 He couldn’t take his eyes from your face, his thumbs tracing invisible lines across your cheeks and your jaw, occasionally slipping over your lips. “The first thing? Simple; I want to make you my queen.”

 You coughed, but remained fairly unphased by his forwardness as you responded with, “Although that is something you could have done without breaking the spell, I am quite fond of the idea. Yet, I have one even better than that—how about we instead dissolve the monarchy together?”

 He laughed at that, brushing his hands through your hair before cradling your jaw once more. “One step at a time, princess. We can talk about that later. But what about you? What are you most excited about now that the kingdom has been restored?”

 You smiled then, not having to take long at all to think of your answer. “As wonderful as having newfound magical abilities may be, my prince, the most wonderful thing about breaking this spell is that I am now able to kiss you wherever I please—without having to stand beneath a freezing waterfall.”

 This time, when you leaned forward to capture his lips with yours, Taehyun gladly welcomed the warmth that rushed to his cheeks. And as he kissed you, he was sure that all the warmth that spread throughout him was enough to heat the entire kingdom, so much so that he dared to imagine that the eternal ice of the Kingdom of Glacies would finally begin to thaw.

[pineappleliar]

Hey uhhh I know it’s all the hotness to be like ‘Kris is actually the Knight!’ and I’m vibing with that but let me place these cards on the table of what’s probably on at least a few of your minds that Ralsei is actually the one pulling the strings in this ominous mad hatter nightmare house. In this essay I propose that Kris and the player are actually more in sync with each other than the game presents, and Ralsei is actually the one who we see opening the Fountains in the Overworld at night.

POINT ONE- Prince of Darkness, Shady Narrative

So the game presents us with the narrative of the Light World and the Dark World, and the essential need for a balance to be maintained between these two realms. While we don’t know what exactly happens in a world with too much Light (probably whatever the Weird Route ends up doing), we’ve heard mention of the Roaring in a world with too much Darkness. Basically, if there is too much Darkness all of the fountains will spawn titanic creatures of death and bad news, all the Darkners go bye bye, and Lightners are stuck desperately trying to survive a world of darkness.

As such the heroes of Light are here to maintain the balance by destroying all the other Dark Fountains that spring up in the world and... adding their power to the one in Ralsei’s Kingdom. Hm.That doesn’t... seem like the darkness is getting removed, then, just funneled into one spot. And the creature in charge of that one spot in Ralsei, and what was that thing about becoming a Titan again? It’s kinda a big deal that, in the event of an actual Roaring, Ralsei is the only one who we know for sure benefits from that apocalypse.

POINT TWO - Out of Touch Time

So, Kris doesn’t seem like they have great control of their body without the SOUL present. Movements are noticeably difficult, and is on the whole a pretty violent act. Now, there are many potential ways to explain this! I’ve seen a lot of talk about Kris being not fully alive, or dependent upon the SOUL to persist, etc. But my two cents on this tying into the Ralsei hypothesis is that Ralsei would be a creature very unused to making a Light creature, let along a HUMAN, move. They have blood in them! It’s very awkward. Now, how is Ralsei able to get into Kris’s body? This is the part where I bring up

POINT THREE - Kris’s Shadow

Ralsei is Kris’s shadow. This isn’t a new hypothesis, and is the most likely element of this theory to be fully true! But Ralsei being the Dark creature created by Kris’s shadow explains a lot of the odd things that Ralsei can do that other Darkners can’t. Ralsei can exist in multiple realms, because he’s a shadow, and shadows can belong in any setting. Ralsei is able to move between the different realms, seemingly without help, when other Darkners need to be carried in the Overworld in order to move from one to the other; as a shadow Kris is already bringing him everywhere they go. Ralsei is also aware of an odd amount of information about Kris, specifically their room layout (noticeably missing the bird cage, interesting omission). Last thing I’ll mention is that Ralsei’s form is one that clearly has importance to Kris, having a name reminicent of their brother, and having the red pair of horns they used to wear as a child.

POINT FOUR - CHAOS CHAOS

As much as I love to see Ralsei and Susie bond with Kris throughout the game, I can’t help but worry that, if the little goat man is an agent of Darkness, if he’s not just using the mechanics of the game to keep the narrative moving in the way that most benefits him. Susie is a wildly interesting narrative foil in actually, but what’s important is that she is adamantly not bound by the rules of the game that the other characters are obligated to follow. Kris begins being told they’re the only one who can ACT, Susie breaks that rule. Susie is told to be a hero, she becomes a villain. The player gives Susie commands, she ignores them. I mention this as Susie creates a narrative where we understand that Ralsei may say something is true, but that it’s not always set in stone. I;m also very much thinking of The Talks Ralsei has when we’re away from Kris. We don’t know... what they’re about, but with the Snowgrave Route we now know that Ralsei is deliberately trying to move the players eyes away from Kris by turning their gaze towards Susie. The only reason it didn’t happen in Snowgrave is that the player had taken full control of the narrative by that point, and was not inclined towards such fluff. This isn’t so much a part of the theory as it is me speculating that in some later chapter Ralsei will try to distract us with Susie, and she’ll notice our presence and send us back prematurely, likely into some very incriminating talks.

I don’t have a great place for this to fit but I also wanted to mention Ralsei’s proposed options for splitting up; either we stick with Ralsei, and likely have a trip similar to the boat adventure, or we go with Susie, leaving Ralsei unsupervised for the first time. Kris wasn’t allowed to be unsupervised until Susie butted in. Also Kris considers Ralsei their least favorite based off of tea HP gains, with the competitions being someone who was actively antagonistic towards them less than 24 hours ago, and a childhood friend who probably reminds Kris of whatever the hell happened at that doorway years ago.

POINT FIVE- TLDR?

So, yeah, my theory is that Ralsei is presenting a version of the three heroes story as a ruse to consolidate power, and potentially cause a Roaring to become a Titan. Of course, this is Toby Fox of Undertale fame, so I highly doubt that Ralsei’s intentions are purely malicious, and there’s definitely some kind of nuance to what’s happening here. This theory hardly explains what happened to Kris or December or what’s going on with all the weird little guys populating the Dark World. Just sharing my.... essay. Please mention if there’s anything I’m missing that would disprove this idea, hopefully with proof beyond just ‘but he’s baby!’, and all that.

[hansoulo]

lead me to the promised land

part two of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW - language, kissing, heavy petting, dom!Boba, gagging/choking, marks and bruises of the Spicy nature, hand and finger kink, allusions to canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2k

Gif Credit: (x) by @/tylowen

A/N: good day gremlins i am not very good at updating but i bring u some fun times as penance pls forgive me

༓ series masterlist ༓

7:00 PM: T-MINUS 14 HOURS UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

You were used to being moved around by other people, poked and prodded and lifted up so that stays could be tied or burdensome headpieces be attached to your head. Shuffled around to smile and be proper, sedated by heavy skirts and perfume. It was a fact of life.

Your dress was unlaced by the mechanical hands of an attendant, the change happening quickly and without fond regard from any party. It was early evening now and the sky peeled itself into a burnt orange. If you closed your eyes, you could almost taste citrus.

“Careful, please,” you whispered with a slight wince as the woman’s thin fingers brushed against your neck, both of your reflections cast warm in the mirror you now stood in front of. They were almost-bruises. Little ghost flower petals. Delicate and pretty, trailing behind your neck and not quite noticeable.

The woman only nodded. Servants weren’t ones to ask questions.

 ⫸ ———————————————————————————— ⫷

3:25 PM: T-MINUS 17 HOURS AND 35 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

The world seemed to tip on its axis, spinning too fast and not at all. It’d only been a minute, maybe two, but Boba’s words hung out to dry in the summer air and there was nothing else to do but wait for the actions to fulfill themselves. It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was to let him keep kissing you, but you only broke away to warn in a jolted, harsh whisper when his touch became too sharp. “Don’t leave any marks.”

“Are you commanding me?” Boba sneered, his voice slightly cruel as his gloved thumbs rubbed circles into your hip bones. You didn’t bother opening your eyes to look at him, letting his mouth skid over your jaw. Your answering yes or no wouldn’t make much of a difference. You had the feeling he would do what he liked either way. You had the feeling you’d let him.

It was strange, too fast. Too fast because really, what did you know about Boba? Were you even on first name terms? He’d never called you your name, and you’d never called him his. You’d only known of him for a few weeks. Had truly talked to him for even less than that. Maybe you should stay a capitalized Princess and he should be “Fett.” For the sake of clinicality.

Letting him lift you up and onto his lap was most definitely not clinical. “That depends,” you croaked out after a moment, finally looking at his face in your half-stupor. He’d sat you up to face him and you’d gone with, pliable and keening. Being champagne drunk felt like this; like his eyes coal-black and the way he seemed to take up everything in your mind until there was no room for reason.  You traced over the scar on his forehead with a light mouth, knees bowed to nestle closer and every muscle in your body flexing, tensed as if dripped over with sunshine. “Are you going to listen?”

The smile of a predator was the only answer he gave you.

⫸ ————————————⫷

3:30 PM: T-MINUS 17 HOURS AND 30 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

Men were vile. They had clammy hands that wandered to your thighs at banquet dinners, slimy mouths when they pressed their lips to your hand in greeting. They were all insufferable and you promised never to go near one as long as you could help it. But promises were a boring thing to keep sometimes. They were much more fun to break.

Boba spoke but it was swallowed in your interlocking mouths, hungry and escalating desperate. You were still sitting with—on?—him, too cowardly to do anything more than kiss and let yourself be felt by the strength of a man’s greed. He tasted like teeth and blood and pink flesh. That was the thing that no one had ever told you about kisses; about men like him. They tasted like broken skin. 

You were eating Boba whole. He was eating you piece by piece. 

You were just kissing. Had been just kissing for what seemed like ages but was actually only fifteen standard minutes. Fifteen standard minutes for your stays to be dragged loose, your lips to be bitten plush, and both sandals abandoned somewhere in the slow scramble. It wasn’t so much desperation as it was just a sheer curiosity goading your irrationality, but the end result was the same: a man squeezing the back of your neck, calling you lovely in the same breath he called you naive. 

“Take them off,” you almost demanded, pulling desperately at his gloves as the warm leather dragged against your fingernails. Learned manners were added in as an afterthought. “Please.”

His one-handed grip on your thigh tightened. It would bruise, likely. Raise questions, definitely. You would have to chalk it up to something else. A fall. A bad trip on a set of stairs. Anything besides what was happening now. The words rumbled against your chest and registered vaguely as a threat. “What was that?”

Huffy and impatient, you answered in a much more keening, undignified echo. “Please, pleasepleaseplease—”

Boba put his fingers in your mouth.

Boba put his fingers in your mouth.

Stuffed was the more apt word. You tried not to think about how he could only fit two of them inside without hurting you. It made you feel temperature-hot, physically burning until your cheeks and your insides twisted into smoldering ash because his fingers breached the alabaster edges of your teeth until they almost gagged you on your own tongue. Boba drew his hand back only when you sighed around it, sedated with fluttering eyes and no longer asking questions. His voice seemed to get deeper, raspier around the unplaceable accent from a place you’d never heard of and probably never would. “Good girl.”

The gloves stayed on. Why they did and why you couldn’t just get him to do what you wanted like everyone else you had no idea, but your frustration quickly ebbed into hazy, sparking pleasure. He called you good. You liked being good. 

Your hips stuttered when they caught on Boba’s trousers and suddenly you were giggling into the thick muscle of his shoulder, quiet and juvenile in your own disbelief. Everything about this was absurd and inappropriate, which formed the basis of your amusement. It was something to play with. Someone. Big and shiny in the most literal sense of the word. 

The hunter let out what could be construed as a laugh but sounded more akin to a growl and two large palms settled again on the soft rise of your hips. “Not here,” he repeated into your jaw, the words that were previously muffled so long ago now clearer. Not here. Which implied a theoretical somewhere other than here where you would possibly, hypothetically be doing more than- “We need to go.”

You should go. You should be pushing him off of you and running and screaming or something equally inflammatory because this was… because his...

“No,” you protested weakly with a slow shake of your head. Your hands curled around his pauldrons and rested there, limp and slightly shaking. “No, they- they didn’t actually need me for anything. My father just had to—oh Maker-” his cuisse plate pressed up hard between the warm softness of your thighs. “—had to send someone out to search for me—” you rutted against his leg once, twice before the arms around your waist tightened again and inhibited any further attempts at movement. You recovered from the loss of friction quickly, instead letting yourself sag into his solid chest as one set of fingertips dragged along your spine. “—’s just a poor look for him not to,” you finished flippantly, barely audible from where your face settled smushed against the creep of stubble on his cheek. “Bad press.”

“I’ve still got places to be, princess. Even if you don’t.”

“Oh I’m terribly sorry,” you tried replying sarcastically as his mouth flattened against the thin skin of your neck. His lips were soft, but they pressed against you like anything but. You tried rolling your hips again but were thwarted. “Am I in the way of a prior engagement?”

“Something like that.”

“Well then,” you flattened your palms against his chest plate and broke away from the seal of his touch. It wasn’t fair. You couldn’t breathe right and looked like you’d been dragged through a sarlacc pit, but he was just sitting there. Watching you. His eyes were hungry though. “Why let me keep you?”  The words were shot through with airy exhales as you were lifted up off the smooth stone. “I was under the impression that you hated me,” you continued into Boba’s neck with hands curled around the dark curls at its nape.

You did think that, before… this. Now you didn’t know what to believe, what his intentions were. Most likely they were the same as yours. Nothing good.

Whatever either of your motivations were, they would have to be paused now. For his mysterious, vague “engagement” and probably for the betterment of your health, because you were certain if you stayed here with him, shielded away from prying eyes and marching men, your heart would burst right out of your chest and through your ears. 

Your legs wobbled slightly when he set you standing on the ground, Boba’s helmet still laying on the fountain’s edge, and you handed it to him with a reverence that belayed the previous minute’s informality. When it was restored to his head you found yourself mourning the loss of his face. You’d been spoiled this last hour. You didn’t like not seeing it anymore.

“I don’t.” was his short reply. What a wordsmith. 

“Aren’t you still my escort?” you huffed, trying to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell in panted inhales. Wiping haphazardly at your mouth, you leaned over the fountain’s reflection and attempted to compose yourself. The circlet usually pinned neatly to your head lay crooked and loose, glimmering its delicate metals in the daylight as you fussed with it this way and that. The pool of water currently acting as a mirror rippled too much to be of any real use. You pressed your palms to your flushed cheeks and mumbled. “My penitentiary guard, more like.”

Boba turned you around to face him with his hands on your shoulders and you imagined his eyes to still be edged in charcoal embers. The last smudge of lipstick on your chin was rubbed away by a broad thumb and you watched, curious to his intentions and surprised at his actions, when he reached up to right your crown.

“Let’s go, princess.”

You didn’t argue. You’d been sated from rebellion for the time being.

 ⫸ ————————————⫷

4:10 PM: T-MINUS 15 HOURS AND 50 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

The mercenary stood by the side entrance watching you. 

“You look a mess!” your mother admonished, harried with the exertion of the day’s events that you somehow managed not to be privy to. Apparently there was to be a dinner with the guests leaving the next morning, and apparently you specifically were asked to be present. Both would be dull pieces of information on the best of days but now, after the events that had just transpired, they were positively brain-numbing. 

The queen consort motioned for you to turn around and you complied with a slow spin as your being was examined for minor casualties. Once the woman assured herself of your being alive and unharmed, barely registering the tall figure that stood mere yards away, she allowed herself more frantic inquiries as she shuffled you down the hallway. “What were you doing out there?”

“Oh nothing,” you answered vaguely, eyes trailing as far back towards the doors as they could go without actually turning your head. There was a flash of green armor. “I just wanted to take a walk, is all.” You turned to her and smiled your best attempt at a brilliant, royal-white assurance. “Clear my head.”

[spices-and-cherries]

Don’t make me wait (James Bond x Reader)

This was a request by the lovely @iamcavainna​! I’m so sorry it took so long, but life was being a bit rough. I also wanted to at least try and make this good, so I thought that it would be better if I took some time with it... There is a fluffy ending!

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it! 

Warnings: drinking wine, a gun, angst, anxiety, mentions of potential accidents that could happen in a snowy mountain

It’s not uncommon for your partner, James Bond, to be traveling abroad for weeks on end. While it can get lonely, he does try to call regularly from whichever hotel he’s staying in. After a while, you became used to it. Why? Late or not, he always kept his promise: 

I’ll be back.

The last time he had called, he had said that he wouldn’t be able to contact you for a week at most due to a strenuous business conference at a ski resort in the Alps. Seeing as this was normal routine for him, you thought nothing of it and just reminded him not to accidentally hurt himself (yet again). 

But today, you’re worried. In fact, you’ve been worried for five days straight. It’s been over a week - eleven days to be exact - and now you feel as though something is off. 

Had he flown off the side of a cliff? Did he get lost? Was he trapped under an avalanche of snow?

James had given you an address to go to in case of emergency, but would this be the right time to use it? How can you be sure that you’re just not being paranoid? And if you did go, what would you say? James has never taken you to his place of work and barely talks about his colleagues, so who would you even be speaking to?

Hundreds of panicked questions circle your mind as you pace around your living space, phone in one hand and address in the other. You had barely slept the night before and hadn’t eaten all day. 

You missed James. He’s been gone for almost a month now and no number of phone calls could replace the feeling of his warmth on his side of the bed. His laugh, his miserable cooking, his rough hands...  You needed all of that and more back at home next to you. So you had to go. 

You check the time. It’s just before four o’clock. If you hurry, you just might catch someone on their way out.

---

Without a second thought, you slip on your coat and hurry to the closest bus stop. The trip there was a bit of a haze, between the times you were navigating and transferring. The haze dissipates pretty quickly as you walk up to what was supposed to be some office building and not a glamourous apartment complex with a Rolls Royce being unloaded in front of the main entrance. 

You have to double and triple check the address written down and your GPS on your phone. It seemed to be the right place...

Tentatively, you walk into the lobby, feeling very out of place and small. The floor looks like it all marble and there’s a little fountain in the middle of the space.

Anxious, you manage to sign yourself in at the front desk. There were some complications due to your ID, but after a quick phone call, it was sorted out and you were free to go up. You speed-walk to the elevators, feeling like someone was watching you. Looking around, you didn’t see anyone but the uptight attendant you had just spoken to making another call. The elevator doors open and you walk in. 

As you get closer and closer to your destination, you feel more anxious and your palms start to sweat. You furiously try and dry them as the doors open into what looked to be someone’s home. 

And that someone was straight in front of you.

“Who are you?” She was an older woman with short, salt-and-pepper hair and a fitted pantsuit.

“Uh...” You hear the elevator doors close behind you. There’s no escaping now.

“Well? I don’t have all day, you know.”

“My name is (Y/) (L/N)... I think my husband works for you.” One of her eyebrows raised. “Uh, he said that in case of emergency that I come here...” You pull out the piece of paper and she takes it. “I don’t really have anything urgent, but he’s unusually late in checking in and I-”

“Good lord.” She muttered furiously after scanning the note and crushes it.

“Pardon?” You ask, somewhat alarmed by the unexpected response. 

“Please, have a seat.” She waves to a chair and you comply. 

“Do you know-”

“Your husband? Yes. He’s one of my men.”

“Men?”

“...Well I can see that that fool did follow my order for once, not that it makes much difference...”

“I’m not sure I understand...”

“Normally, you wouldn’t have to.” She sits down across from you. “What is it that Bond told you about his job?”

“...Well, he’s one of those people who are the intermediaries between large company deals...?”

“Close. In reality, he’s the exact opposite.”

“I don’t-”

“Bond is an agent trained in the art of infiltration in order to stop certain kinds of ...businesses from expanding more than they already have. In short, your... husband... is an international spy.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“But that is not the issue here.” She stares at you with eagle eyes. “The issue is this address. Did Bond give it to you?”

“Yes!” You squeak - to say you’re terrified would be an understatement. “He said to come here in case of an emergency while he wasn’t home.”

“And the emergency is?”

“It’s been over a week since he last called. He promised that he would contact me once the week ended. He’s five days late. He’s never late for that long!”

“Right.” She rests her head in the palm of her hand as if she were dealing with some trivial issue. “Has anyone seen this address or followed you here?”

“No one has seen it and I don’t think so?”

“You don’t think so or you don’t know?” She snaps, but her face softens after seeing the look on your face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Do you - do you know where James is?”

"...We know just as much as yourself. It seems the only thing that man is good for is causing me trouble.” She was standing up again and pacing.

“Is there anything I can do to help? I have this awful feeling that something happened!”

“I am afraid not. We are already doing all we can.” She sighs. “...Did he tell you anything last time he contacted you?”

“He said he was going to a ski resort with a client in the Alps...”

“Nothing else?”

“Not that I can remember.” She takes a good look at you, then turns away. 

“We were told the same. Any longer and we’ll may have to consider him MIA.” 

“MIA?” You feel slightly faint. “Is - is he in danger?”

“If he wasn’t he wouldn’t be doing his job.” You slump back into your seat, unsure of how to take all this information in. Not only has your husband lied to you about his profession, but that profession is putting him in danger!

“Is there anything you can tell me?” You start fiddling with your hands. “I don’t think I caught your name...”

“That would be because I didn’t tell it to you. You may call me M.” 

“Right.” You nod awkwardly. “Seeing as all this is top secret and I’m-”

“A civilian.”

“...What’s going to happen to me?”

“That would be for upper management to decide. Though it shouldn’t be anything too harmful. Bond was the one who brought you into this, after all.”

“Will he be fired?” Alarm rushes through you at the thought. 

“Oh no,” M looks at you with surprise. “James has done much worse than this. They’ll just give him a light spanking and send him off. He’s too good to be let go of.” She looks at you with a penetrating gaze. “Too damn good.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” You smile awkwardly. “In all honesty, this whole situation is a bit much for me.”

“I can imagine.”

“Does this happen with James often?”

“Missing a check-in or finding out about secret marriages?”

“Missing check-ins?”

“Yes, yes it does. Although it seems as though he contacts you more than us. It’s been two weeks since he last called in. It does seem like he’s taking longer than usual...” 

---

Out of supposed security concerns, M told you to stay with her until James comes back. As a compromise, she sent some people to keep surveillance in your neighborhood and on your flat. Of course, this meant a couple of days (or more) living with this mysterious woman. M never talked unless necessary and most certainly did not bring her work home. While she trusts you enough in her home, she cannot afford anything leaking out, no matter how harmless.

That being said, she did try to update you on any word (or lack thereof) from your husband. The more time past, the more anxious you became. You could no longer sleep and M would find you in your room just staring at the ceiling. You had confided in her just once about how much you were missing him when you had one too many glasses of wine. Despite your loneliness, you really did try and keep strong. If the two of you were eating together, you’d ask her questions about your husband’s job. M couldn’t answer more than half of them, but did try to help shed some light on this new side of James. 

She couldn’t go into a lot of details, both due to how classified it all was, but because she thought that James should be the one to explain everything.

On the third day, M had informed you that James had sent a message. It was short and didn’t disclose his whereabouts, but you were so relieved that your knees just about gave out from underneath you. 

He was safe.

He was safe and that was all that mattered to you. Several more days would pass before you’d be reunited. 

---

It was the dead of night and, like usual, you couldn’t sleep. M wasn’t home - she said that she would be late - so you had eaten by yourself. While her suite is beautiful, you can’t help but wish that you were home in your little flat. You used to be annoyed about how much the building settled or your neighbors snoring during the night. Now, the lack of noise unsettles you. However, every noise you do happen to hear makes the hairs on your arms stick up.

Especially when you hear the elevator open awfully early in the night.

Somehow, you knew that it wasn’t M. Maybe it was because you didn’t hear her toss her handbag on one of the chairs or that her usual heels didn’t sound like they should. Either way, you had to make sure that everything was okay. You quietly get out of the bed and grab an empty wine bottle. 

Carefully, you slowly twist the doorknob to ease the door open by just a crack. You can just make out a figure that was much bigger than M shuffling around her desk. Unsure of what to do and not wanting to blow your cover immediately, you stay right where you are. He - for it was most definitely a man - straightened himself out and proceeded to make himself comfortable in one her chairs with his back towards you. 

Why would a burglar make himself at home?

As he begins to pour himself a glass, you gently open the door wide enough that you could slip through it. You bless your lucky starts that it doesn’t squeak. 

One, two, three, four steps forward when suddenly two unexpected things happen at the same time.

The man had gotten up, spun around and pointed a gun at your head. 

The elevator doors open to reveal M.

“Good heavens! What is happening?” You watch M hurry in, throwing her bag on a chair. “Bond! Put the gun down!” Your head snaps back around. The look of surprise and alarm was reflected in your husband’s bright blue eyes. You drop the bottle and it shatters. His gun was swiftly tossed aside. 

“James.” You choke back a sob as you run into his arms. He hugs back just as fiercely. 

“(Y/N).” He softly tucks your head into his shoulder and seems to relax in your arms. 

“I missed you.”

“I know.” 

“While this is awfully touching, you have a lot of explaining to do, Bond.” James lifts his head when he hears M say his name. 

“Ah. Yes. I forgot you were here.” You didn’t need to see M’s face to know the look of annoyance she was most likely sporting. 

“Just sit down.” M snaps, but you can tell that it’s half-hearted. James lets go of you, but grabs your hand as he sinks down into the couch. You curl up on his side, his hand still in yours.

You would never know what it was that the two talked about after that because you had fallen asleep as soon as your head settled on his shoulder. 

When you woke up, it was bright out and you were on the couch. Your pillow shifts, making you do a double take. Your pillow was in fact an arm. You shift to your other side and find yourself face to face with your husband’s sleeping face. Gently, you caress his face then plant a kiss on his cheek. 

“That’s hardly what I would call a good afternoon kiss.” James smirks, suddenly wide awake.

“Afternoon?”

“It’s just after one.” He gently pulls you closer to him. “Now, don’t make me wait more than I already have...” 

“That makes two of us, doesn’t it-” You kiss him squarely on the mouth then pull back - much to his obvious displeasure. “-Mr. Secret Agent?”

Needless to say, the two of you would take the time to talk things out and bring everything (that’s not classified information) into the light.

I tried really hard with this one, so I hope you all enjoyed it! I kinda feel like the start and the end were rushed... I plan on doing some Jake Lonergan headcanons this week, so that will be fun. Please feel free to send me ideas or requests! It might take a while for me to finish it, but I’ll try my best!

- Simpy

[darling-i-read-it]

Fugitives

Baron Helmut Zemo x reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: some spoilers for tfatws, i think thats it but if i missed anything pls let me know!

Author’s Note: I hope you like this love! Zemo <3

Requested: by @stardancerluv, Ok!😬 hope this works! So I was thinking Zemo stops f!reader from being turned into a super solider. Much later after all that time, they run into each other in Madripoor or Zemo makes it his side mission to “run into you!” Maybe they have feelings for each other which are expressed over drinks. (Let your creativity fly!) Work your magic! Thank you so much! You’re the best. 💐

Summary: the request!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Zemo remembered meeting you well. One of the few people that he had saved, one of the people who were in his corner. He often remembered those who held a debt to him but he couldn’t say that you did. He would say maybe that he held a debt to you.

You held one of the few super soldier serum in your hand and twirled it around between your fingers. You looked at the clear bottle, the liquid sloshing just slightly as you moved it around. A part of you was hoping that you would drop it.

If you dropped it then the choice would be out of your hands.

It seemed like a natural thing to do to take it. You should take the serum and have the power that so few people had. If you were able to do that, maybe you could save others. Maybe you could be just like Captain America or one of the other superheroes. You had a choice that so many others would never have, the choice that so many others wished they had.

Zemo was tracking that bottle. He had managed to get his hands on it only for it to slip out of his grasp but not before he put an inconspicuous tracking device on it. He just hoped that no one had taken it yet. He would rather smash a vial then kill a person. But he would do what needed to be done.

His device tracked all the way to where you were sitting but he saw the vial, he could turn off the device. It was no longer beeping and he was able to see you, sitting in the middle of a crowd on the outer edge of a water fountain. The serum danced in between your hands. You weren’t even looking at it.

You weren’t looking at anything really. Your expression was focused and distracted. The back of your shirt was damp from the water spray.

Zemo approached you. You only noticed him when he was just a couple of feet away. Your eyes met. Neither of you were confrontational about it. There was no fight that went down immediately.

“I’m Helmut Zemo.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you said evenly. You held up the little vial. “I suppose you’re here for this?” He shook his head, a sly smile on his face.

“I’m here to make sure that you don’t take it.” You raised an eyebrow.

“For personal reasons? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before Helmut.” He shook his head again.

“Nothing personal against you. May I sit?” You looked down at the little vial and took a deep breath before nodding. He sat down beside you. For a moment, he was silent, just watching the people as they passed by. You were silent as well, crowd watching. You didn’t feel any ill will toward Zemo. You figured someone would come eventually, you just didn’t figure so soon. Regardless, he was being less violent than you had figured someone would be.

“I haven’t taken it or anything.”

“I see.” You looked over at him and met his eyes. He had striking eyes and a guarded but soft gaze. You didn’t feel confrontational.

“Should I?”

“No. No you shouldn’t.”

“And how should I trust your judgement, Helmut Zemo?” He held your gaze and a soft smile flashed over his face. He laughed and shook his head just a bit.

“I think you shouldn't because everyone who has taken that serum has done something bad with it. It’s cursed.”

“Perhaps the people were cursed to begin with. Plus, what about big old Captain America? Is he not doing things for righteous reasons?” you asked. A darkness went over his face but he quickly suppressed it.

“That is subjective to each and every person.” He held your gaze even longer, causing you to have to look away. “Don’t take it.”

“Do you want it? To study or take or whatever?”

“I want it destroyed. Under my boot, right here and now.” You held it up to the light and looked through it. Who knew what it was made of. You barely knew what it could do.

You were silent for a long moment as you considered your options. Finally you let it fall between your fingers and land on the ground. You stood up and offered your hand. He grabbed it, standing. You gestured to the vial.

“It’s all yours Helmut Zemo.”

He looked down and with one stomp, it was nothing more than glass and spilling liquid. You were sure it would mix in with the rain that was soon to come. It would be like it was never there.

You met each other's eyes again.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?” His accent was thick but only then, like he had slipped up in a moment of happiness that the serum was gone.

“For helping me make that decision.”

You turned and started walking until you were lost in the crowd and Zemo could no longer see you.

====

When Zemo came to Madripoor he was only slightly thinking of you. You and him had met near the place but not close enough for him to have you at the front of his mind. He was much more worried about getting Bucky and Sam to pass through mostly undetected.

“So what is your big deal with super soldier serums? How long have you been trying to destroy them?” Sam asked, just to make conversation as they walked the long walk to the club.

“A long time. I met a girl not far from here who was about to take it. She let me crush it underneath my boot.” He remembered it fondly.

“She didn’t want it?” Sam asked. Zemo nodded.

“She understood the costs that would come with taking it. She wasn’t prepared to pay the price so she let me destroy it. A good choice on her part.”

As they entered the dimly lit club, the conversation died out. Loud music bumped through the air. The three of them kept their game face on and Zemo reminded them multiple times not to slip up.

They blended into the crowd. They had to get to Selby.

And they did but then they were running away, trying not to get caught in the crosshairs of someone with a gun that wanted them dead.

As they ran, narrowly dodging death, Zemo ran square into you. You stumbled over and Zemo almost ran right past you before he realized who you were. You stood up and looked around at the people chasing him.

“Helmut?”

“Y/N?”

“Quickly! Come with me!” You grabbed his hand and started to run. They didn’t have any better option. Bucky, Sam and Zemo chased you through the streets before coming to a halt in a room in a very tall building.

When everyone caught their breath you were finally able to speak.

“What are you doing in Madripoor?!” you asked him, breathing heavily.

“I was trying to see Selby who is sadly dead by now.”

“Wait, how do you know her?” Bucky asked, gesturing to you. “Is she another criminal?” Zemo sighed.

“No I-well you aren’t a criminal now are you?” You shook your head slightly.

“No, not really. Well there was...it’s not that big of a deal. I take it all of you are criminals?” Sam shook his head, stepping forward.

“We’re just trying to get some information.”

“This is Y/N. The woman I met who gave up the super soldier serum,” Zemo explained. They nodded, recalling the story he had told them earlier. “What are you doing here?”

“Who are these people?” you asked loudly.

“This is Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes,” Zemo explained. You recognize their names just faintly in the back of your mind.

“Wonderful. You all have to leave.”

“We can’t yet. Not until things settle outside. Please, you’ve helped me once more and I’m asking you to do it again,” Zemo said, approaching you. It had been years but you looked the same. A little rough around the edges but it was nice to see a familiar and kind face. You took a deep breath and cursed under your breath.

“One night.”

Zemo nodded happily.

“Thank you. Thank you.” You sighed and gestured to the bathroom.

“I have no mens clothes but I may have some sweats and hoodies that would fit. You’re all welcome to shower.” They nodded, happy to have a place to sit for the day and regroup. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge.”

====

Sam and Bucky were in your small room, trying to sleep. One of them was snoring. Probably Sam because he took the bed and Bucky was on the ground. You and Zemo sat outside on the couch, holding beers in your hands. You had large windows in your apartment with a view of the city, however run down it was.

You looked outside, watching the lights turn on and off rapidly.

“Why are you in Madripoor?” Zemo asked.

“I came here after I met you. Tried to get some work. I have things here and there, not exactly legal things but...things that pay for my rent and groceries,” you said honestly. You turned back to look at him. “I hear you’re a fugitive in America huh?” He scoffed.

“It was worth it.”

“I imagine it was.” You looked down at your drink. “I thought about you a lot. How life could have been different if I hadn’t listened to someone I met just a couple of minutes before.” He looked at you but you weren’t looking at him. He studied your features, relaxed, older than they were.

“I think you would have been dead if you hadn’t.” You looked up at him and grabbed his hand. He held yours for a moment and right then and there you were not criminals, fugitives, or strangers. You weren’t anything except together.

“I’m glad I listened,” you whispered. He kissed the back of your hand gently and there was that subtle soft smile that made you feel washed over with relief.

“Me too darling. Me too.”

You fell asleep on that couch that night without knowledge of the future and without care for it either. You drifted off in Zemo’s arms, his lips pressed against your shoulder blade.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 16

<- Part 15 | Part 17 ->

Summary: A flirtatious moment in the hospital garden turns sour. 

Warnings: Brief nsfw themes, injury-recovery angst, post-traumatic stress/flashbacks, graphic past injuries, KISSING, hurt/comfort. Love and fluff. 

3,700 words

After being gutted left him with a limp, a cane, and an overbearing sense of weakness, Frederick Chilton began copying Hannibal Lecter. His patterned suits, his clean-shaven face. The mimicry wasn’t deliberate exactly, but he looked to a man who radiated calm dignity and strength, and tried to capture some of it for his own.

It didn’t work. Frederick Chilton was still Frederick Chilton.

But shaving the beard did make him look younger. The razor glided over his smooth cheek as he cut through the facial hair that had grown unruly in the hospital. A new man stared back at him. One not traumatized by Gideon’s knife.

Only a few months later, he was shot in the face, and let the stubble grow back to distract from the scar. To obscure the hollowing where maxillary bone was missing. Like a chameleon, Frederick was always changing—hairstyles, wardrobes, colognes—always imitating someone, drawing the eye away from a flaw, never comfortable with himself. Ever improving. Refining. Hiding.

Every day, the burn ward’s physical therapists had him using one exercise machine or another. A pedaling machine lowered over his bed so he could build muscle while lying on his back before he was able to walk. The next step was a tall, rolling frame that he strapped into like a fighter pilot hanging from a parachute harness, which allowed him to take a few weightless steps. His legs shook. His feet did not know how to align themselves on the ground anymore. He hissed curses when you cheered him on just for shuffling one foot forward along the smooth grey linoleum.

One damned foot.

As if he couldn’t walk before. As if one shaking, machine-assisted step was an accomplishment. He was an overgrown baby in a Jumperoo.

While he could not walk on his own yet, he could get into and out of a wheelchair without screaming bloody murder. This allowed him a new level of freedom, if not autonomy. He still required two nurses to lower him into the chair. Still needed help getting to the bathroom. But he could at least use the bathroom instead of a bedpan and catheter.

Healing came at a cost.

Until now, he had caught flashes of his reflection in polished surfaces. Warped teeth in a metal IV pole. The fuzzy silhouette of a mask in the black of his computer screen.

He stood with his hands on the bathroom sink, staring. The nurse at his left elbow tugged him, told him it was time to sit back down in the chair. He needed support to stand, a babysitter to ensure he didn’t fall, and she was tired of waiting.

The thing staring back at him did not move.

When he took the compression mask off for the one hour per day he was allowed to remove it for cleaning, he somehow expected to find his own face beneath it. Skin. What he saw was a stranger. Gnarled scars made an uneven backdrop for one dead blue eye and a skeletal grimace. His own bones were buried somewhere underneath like bedrock, but the flesh was rearranged and distorted.

If he had met this man a year ago, Dr. Chilton would have felt inward pride at his ability not to sicken at the sight. He would have shaken his hand with a smug, professional detachment that said, “I am accustomed to horrific things in my line of work—abnormal psychiatry. This does not shock me as it would a layperson.”

He was a creature to be pitied.

Then a familiar reflection appeared out of the blind spot of his left side. Your image wrapped its hand behind the broken stranger, and he felt it land on his lower back. Warm. Comforting as your face, which was knit with worry. You told the nurse you could handle it from here, and she retreated out to his room.

When she was gone, Frederick began to laugh, dark and cruel, eyes never leaving the matching set staring cruelly back.

“What is it?” you asked, tightening your grip on his arm as he began to tremble.

“Do you think I look younger without a beard?”

The laugh cracked in his throat. His shoulders heaved as he finally looked away. It was too embarrassing to watch a grown man cry.

***

The heat of July was not easy on a body that could no longer sweat and was covered head to toe in a compression suit, but Frederick Chilton was thrilled to be outside. As the automatic sliding doors opened, he breathed in deeply through the nose and exhaled the spinning summer fragrances with a blissful sigh.

You resisted the urge to tease him. Of the pair, you were the more outdoorsy by far, and the last time you dragged him camping, he’d managed to complain the entire two days. He was not, generally, one to appreciate sunshine and birdsong. But this was different.

It was his first time away from the lifeless hospital air—the same smells day after day—in four months.

Now a breeze hit his face—a breeze! He had forgotten what that felt like—and brought with it the smell of cut grass and flowers, and exhaust fumes from the nearby roadways. The scent of gasoline urged his stomach to wring itself empty, but it was faint and easy enough to shake off as sparrows chirped and flitted about the hospital’s “meditation garden.”

Gently curving paths snaked through the landscaping of lush greenery and small trees. Few flowers were planted, out of respect for patients with allergies, but a fountain at the center babbled soothingly. The walkways were wide and smoothly paved, so the grey wheels of the hospital-issue wheelchair rolled over them easily, performing their function despite being over-worked and worn down, not unlike the staff. The black rubber handle grips had a dull patina from hundreds of hands, yours being the latest to circle around them as you pushed.

It was nice to have a private courtyard to enjoy the fresh air without the eyes of the general public watching.

Frederick was able to wear clothes from home now, but they had to be loose-fitting and short-sleeved to not interfere with his treatment. In a navy polo shirt and athletic shorts, he felt horrifically under-dressed, and did not want to be seen that way. The fashion crime was almost as bad as the face he could not bear looking at.

An elderly patient and what appeared to be her adult daughter sat on one of the benches between two daylily patches, blooming garishly cheerful red and gold. The daughter looked up, and Chilton looked away.

“You are certain you checked the bedroom closet? Left-hand side, second drawer to the bottom?” he asked again, agitation rising.

He was looking for the more fashionable Chino shorts he rarely wore, preferring to overheat in long pants than expose his pale, door-knob knees to imagined ridicule. You told him the housekeeper must have misplaced them.

He clenched his fist as tightly as the pink, shiny-scarred claw could manage and went on a gruff, impotent rant about the help growing careless without him to keep them in check. (If anything, the “help” were desperate to keep you in check without him there to manage your habit of leaving everything out—your clothes on a chair, the cereal box on the counter.)

“I know, I know. Awful,” you nodded along to the music of his words, if not the lyrics. You wished he would change the subject, but he pressed on with his investigation of the Case of the Missing Shorts.

“Mrs. Pérez brought a load of laundry down from the bedroom last Wednesday,” he noted. Frederick had taken to watching the security feeds remotely from his laptop. “Has she been using the cheap dry cleaner on Cherry Street instead of the good one so she can skim the difference? I have explicitly instructed the staff not to use them—they have lost or ruined several articles over the years. Inform Mrs. Pérez that I will not stand for lazy—what?”

Your tense smile began emanating a tenser whine.

It was rather suspicious.

Frederick watched you for a moment, puzzled, and then resumed, “The new security guard shares my pant size. Perhaps—”

“I DID IT. I brought them to Good Will.”

“You what?!”

Clicking the wheelchair brake, you doubled over the back of it, laughing at your childish ruse and how seriously Frederick had taken it. God, the man could never let anything go! “Over a year ago! You never wore them!”

“Come here.” His clipped tone did not invite argument.

You walked around to the front of his chair, the repentant pout on your face strongly undermined by rounded cheeks that were barely holding back a chuckle.

He growled with affectionate anger—the kind where he wanted to grab behind your knees and pull you into his lap, telling you with a low purr exactly how much trouble you were in. Except at the moment, your weight crashing onto his skinny, bony lap would have bruised a femur and torn five stitches. And if he was not confident enough for a kiss, he was in no condition to promise punishments of that nature.

So he gave your rump a sharp smack and tried to make his mouth smirk in that playfully disdainful way that said, “I love you, but I am going to kill you. You know that, right?” Sometimes wanting to kill someone can be such a personal, intimate love language.

“Doctor Chilton!” you gasped, feigning shock. “Such a naughty patient. I have told you time and again, this is simply unprofessional.”

The old woman and daughter had moved on, leaving you alone in the garden.

He let out a soft huff of amusement, catching on to the new game you were playing. Back when he was the administrator of the BSHCI, you would often saunter into his office playing the oversexed patient to his sleazy therapist. Now the roles were reversed.

“You protest,” he said in a low, lecherous tone, “and yet you continue to lavish extra attention on me. Do not think I have not noticed.”

“I don’t know what you could mean,” you deflected coyly. “Please keep your hands to yourself, sir.”

He grabbed your hand and spun you to face him, skeletal fingers interlocking with yours. Even through the compression glove, you could feel how skinny they had become, knobby knuckles protruding.

“Doctor,” he corrected.

You swallowed. “Doctor.”

“Why deny it? You guard all my treatments for yourself like a prize when other nurses could do it. You crawl into my bed to warm me with your body heat—hardly standard practice. I think you like the attention,” he said, giving your ass another lurid slap.

“D-Doctor! I’m not supposed to—we’re not supposed to…”

“If you worked at my hospital, I would fire you for such fraternization. Yet you call me unprofessional.” His hand still rested on your ass.

“You would fire me, doctor? Why fire me when there is so much I could offer?”

“And what is it you would offer me?” he asked, voice thick with meaning. His fingers kneaded the fat of your ass gently. It would have been harder, more possessive, if his hands were at full strength.

Not long ago, getting an erection had been painful, though he’d had several corrective surgeries since then, and the grafting had time to heal. Perhaps the sunlight was sparking him back to life. He was in a flirtatious mood—more excited than you’d seen him in a long time, and you were not about to tell him to slow down.

“Anything you want, doctor.” You lowered yourself in front of his chair, kneeling between his legs and looking up at him expectantly.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

No one else was in the garden, and statues and shrubberies hid it from the road, but it was not entirely private. Anyone could walk in or see from a window of the tall buildings. You were just pretending. You weren’t going to slip his cock out right there and suck it for all the world to see. And yet… it had been so long. The thought of your moist lips closing over his lonely, aching hardness, your head bobbing in his lap…

“You… are fascinated with me, nurse,” he observed, licking his non-lips. His composure was holding, but barely. “You have seen many patients, but never one as badly burned, have you?”

“No.”

“Does it excite you?”

You took a moment before answering. Part of him resented you for still finding him attractive. At his lowest, he even blamed you for wanting these brutal injuries to happen. A bird sang a few metallic notes on a nearby branch before fluttering down to drink from the fountain. You stroked the top of his narrow thighs, careful not to push too far by going near his cock, but he showed no sign of hesitation today. The heat in his eyes as he watched you was not accusing, but hungry.

“Yes,” you panted. “You are striking. I’ve never met anyone so strong, so resilient.”

“Do you dream of kissing me? Your most striking patient?”

“Yes.”

The sun beat down hotter, but it was only your own internal temperature rising. The birds seemed to pause in their songs, and the leaves on the trees ceased to flutter.

You had waited so long—was he really asking?

His gloved hand reached down between his legs, and nailless pink fingertips stroked the side of your face thoughtfully a few times. Then he motioned you to get up off your knees, offering his hand as a symbolic gesture only. You put some of your weight on the padded rubber armrest as you stood.

“It will not be pleasant. For either party, I imagine,” he said, breaking character.

“It will be for me.” Your voice was soft.

“I do not know what to do like this. Mash my teeth against your face?”

You laughed a little. It was probably more nuanced than that, but that sounded basically accurate. “We’ll find out together.”

He looked off into the distance, toward the humming road weaving through the city. A warm breeze brought the smell of sea off the harbor: salty, humid, and stagnant with rotted fish and garbage. “The memory of your lips against mine is already fading,” he said. “That memory is all I have left of them. Whatever this will be, it will not feel the same.”

“I know.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. The dark blue polo was informal for his old life, but the woven cotton texture was rich compared to the thin hospital gowns you were used to him wearing. The last kiss you shared with Frederick was preserved behind a glass display case in your memory palace. A new kiss might break the hermetic seal. You could forget what it felt like to kiss him before. But it seemed worth the price to build new memories—a future just as full of love as the past.

He looked up at you like a broken ceramic being pieced back together with gold. His eyes shone with love, but his shoulders were slumped low.

“You may say I’m a slutty nurse for wanting to kiss my patient, but you’re to blame!” you said, playing the game again. “How could I resist your charm? I bet you seduce every nurse—I’m only your latest conquest!”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

“No, my dear,” he purred, grabbing your arm and pulling you down to him until your face was inches from his. “Only you. I only want you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

He breathed in. He nodded.

You leaned the final inch down, and pressed your lips to his teeth.

The Red Dragon’s teeth sunk through flesh and tore deep. Coppery blood flooded his mouth, the taste so metallic and strong it drowned out almost everything else out—the pain, the unnatural tearing, little pops of veins, ligaments, and muscles stretching to their limits before giving up, his own screams. The truth of his face with all its illusions of grandeur was revealed before him: it was just meat. Nothing but raw, shredded meat.

“NO!” he screamed, and pushed you hard.

It was different than the peevish denials other times you’d tried to kiss. He pushed you away with so much force you staggered backward, and his wheelchair nearly tipped over. It reared on two wheels like a panicked horse and would have fallen except the worn brake gave way, and he shot backward several feet until the vacant bench stopped the chair’s momentum.

“No, no! Get away! No!” he begged no one, shaking and thrashing so violently he risked ripping his healing scars.

His back, legs, and arms were glued to the wheelchair, and he couldn’t escape. No—could have if he were desperate enough, strong enough. But he was terrified of ripping his skin off. The thought made him break out in a cold sweat and made it difficult to think straight. Dear god, he was afraid something happened to his back. Of being disfigured again.

He was afraid to die, but he dreaded even more the thought of surviving yet again to find another piece taken from him.

Not another. Not again.

If he cooperated, he had to be spared this time. He would cooperate. Do everything The Red Dragon said, and fate would be merciful. He had to go home. He had to go home. To see you again. It was not fair that he survived two attempts on his life only to die here. It was not fair! He was going to get married to the love of his life. Things were finally going right. The Dragon’s shadow fell over him. The acrid stench of his breath as he leaned down toward Frederick’s mouth—

“Frederick!”

You ran after him and tried to restrain him before he climbed out of the wheelchair and fell to the pavement, but it only made him struggle harder. Fuck. You weren’t sure if touching him again was a good idea, but you didn’t know what else to do. He was going to hurt himself.

“Shh, I’m here.”

Crouching next to him, you tried to keep him seated, murmuring soft, reassuring words. Eventually, he stopped thrashing to escape, his jerking limbs resigning themselves to passive trembling. His eyes were open, but they didn’t see you. They didn’t see anything but a dark room with a flickering projector.

You laid your head on his lap. “I’m right here. It’s OK. You’re safe, Frederick. You’re safe. Shh, shh...”

It took several minutes, but his breathing began to slow, and he began to calm down. His fingers found your hair and stroked it, mindlessly running over the contour of your scalp. Familiarity. Recognizing you, he grasped at your shirt to draw you closer, clutching you like a teddy bear to his chest. It was an awkward angle, but you shifted so your butt was partially supported by the bench he’d crashed into, and used the chair’s armrest to hold yourself in the bent position. Frankly, even if every muscle in your body cramped up, you weren’t going to leave him as long as he needed to hold onto you.

Finally, he whimpered your name and asked what happened.

“I… kissed you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

He sniffed and wiped his face, which he discovered was soaked with tears, and looked off into the trees. You sat back onto the bench, straightening your crooked spine, but keeping a firm hold on his hand, staying close as he returned to reality. He would be embarrassed. Add this to the growing list of Ways Frederick Chilton is Broken and Useless. But for now, the humiliation was dulled by the fact that he was not in that room again, with the projector flickering. You stayed that way for a while, sitting in the dappled shade of the garden and the warm breeze, the fountain burbling a constant, relaxing, tuneless song.

“The last man to bring his lips to mine bit them off.”

“I’m so sorry, Frederick. I shouldn’t have been so stupid...”

He squeezed your hand. Straightened up in his chair. “I heard the FBI has the video. Have you watched it?”

You shook your head, then quickly added, “No,” aloud, knowing his vision was poor and still focused on the tree branches swaying and morphing in the wind. Jack Crawford had offered, but you didn’t want to see it. You couldn’t bear to.

It had been hard enough hearing him describe how Francis Dolarhyde glued him naked to his grandmother’s wheelchair and made him watch macabre home movies of the families he had slaughtered. His voice was too calm, too distant from the memory as he dictated graphic details for the Journal of Psychology, desperate to tell his story, grab his fame before he died.

You should have known how your mouth coming at his would make him feel. You were so caught up in your romantic imaginings, you forgot how kiss-like that moment of horror must have been, just before the pain.

The nightmare his life had been for months already, and would continue to be. The scar tissue that wouldn’t fully mature for two years. Two years wearing a compression suit to help them heal. Years of follow-up procedures so that he can continue to move. To breathe. To hear. Longer until he could get a new face. His entire life altered forever.

It started with a kiss.

“We don’t have to kiss. I should never have pushed you to,” you apologized, wincing preemptively.

You expected him to be angry. To sarcastically tell you, “Now you decide we don’t have to? Now that it is too late? What fine timing.”

“I am not weak,” he bristled instead, but his agitation only spanned the length of a breath. He squeezed your hand softly, and pulled you halfway into his chair to wrap his arms around your waist and back. “I did not think that would happen either,” he spoke comfortingly into your hair. “Attempting it for the first time in a wheelchair was a mistake. I should have been more aware of that, but I grow tired of not being able to show my affection. You are not the only one impatient for my recovery, darling. I want to try again.”

“Now?” You pulled back, widening your eyes at him.

“No,” he said plainly. “I think not.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl​​  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​ / @sassyada​ / @barbingchilton​ 

[aellynera]

Loose Change (Llewyn Davis x Reader)

LOOSE CHANGE

For this week’s Writer Wednesday hosted by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog! Llewyn was the first thing that popped into my head when I saw this, and I really don’t know where the rest of it came from, but I just had to write it. Thank you for reading, commenting, liking, and reblogging! 💜💜

This week’s inspiration:

Word Count: 2300 on the dot.

Summary: How bad can it be when your phone rings in the middle of the night? (An alternate take on what could have happened on the way back from Chicago.)

Warnings: Angsty. Hopeful. Hopeful angst? Angstful hope? Maybe a swear or two. Sketchy phone booths. Wrong numbers. Yearning. Secrets, poor decisions, better choices.

The bed was warm but you could hear the cold rain pounding on the window behind your head. Ignoring it and staying in your cozy, comfortable cocoon was definitely your best option, and you rolled over and pulled the blankets tighter over your head. This was the right place to be and you felt yourself start drifting back to sleep.

Until your phone started ringing.

Your phone, which was nowhere near your bed, or even in your bedroom. It wasn’t even within fifty feet of you; it was securely fastened to the wall in your kitchen, by the sink, next to the pantry door. And your kitchen was clear on the other side of the apartment. 

A quick check of the clock told you that it was also the ungodly hour of 3:28 am, the red digits blaring at you angrily in the near-dark. Who in the world was calling you at this hour? For a long few minutes you thought about ignoring it. It was probably a wrong number. That happened all the time. Or maybe it was some kids having a party and pranking. In the middle of the night. That was probably it.

But a little tickle at the back of your brain, small and sinewy, kept curling around your thoughts and rationalization and it wouldn’t let go. Maybe it’s important. Maybe it really was. Maybe something happened to one of your parents or your sister or-

The phone didn’t stop ringing. So it must be important.

With an exasperated groan, you launched yourself out of bed, one quilt still wrapped around you to ward off the damp chill. Your bare feet slapped along the tile floor and your balance wavered slightly, your muscles still used to being asleep, until you finally got to the kitchen and yanked the receiver off the ringing phone.

“Hello?” your sleep-ridden voice rasped out cautiously. 

“Hey,” the voice on the other end came back. “You got the stuff?”

“The...what?”

“You know, the…” 

“The st...No! Do you know what time it is? This is a wrong number! What the hell!” You slammed the phone back down on its cradle.

Figures. It was a wrong number. You wanted to go back to bed, you really did. But now you found yourself wide awake because someone wanted stuff that you wouldn’t have day or night.

So you wandered over to the couch and tried to get comfortable on the lumpy cushions, and watched the rain coming down outside your window bounce dramatically off the fire escape.

Until your phone rang again.

A curse flew from your lips as you hurled the quilt off and stomped back to the phone. You grabbed it, put it to your ear, and shouted, “What?”

“I...are you okay?” a voice came back. A familiar voice, this time.

“Llewyn? Is that you?” you closed your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” he replied. “Uh, sorry I’m calling you so late.”

You sighed. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. I just...some stuff happened, and I needed to hear a familiar voice.”

Your heart immediately softened in your chest, despite your very strong desire to still be angry. Llewyn certainly didn’t sound okay, but that was his norm. You wanted to reach through the phone and hold him, care for him.

You always had a soft spot for him, ever since Jean introduced you so long ago, that day in the park when all the musician friends gathered to play at the fountain. He spent a fair amount of time sleeping on this lumpy old couch. You cooked him a hot meal when you could (and when he would let you), gave him a place to stay even if you weren’t home (on the rare occasion that he would even agree to it, which was slowly becoming more frequent.) You went to as many of his shows as you could, and you really just liked to hang out with him when he was around. He’d slowly become one of your best friends. 

And yeah, he was kind of an asshole a lot of the time, but he was sweet and you probably liked him a little more than you were willing to admit.

“Llewyn, where are you? Do you need me to come get you or something?” you asked with a yawn. You really hoped that’s why he was calling you at...3:37 am..

His laugh was short. “Well, if you feel like driving to Ohio, sure.”

“Ohio?” you cried. “What are you doing in…”

The laugh from moments before fell into a sigh and you could hear a soft thunk follow. “I’m in Akron. In a payphone booth outside of a bar, banging my head on the glass. I’ll hitchhike home in the morning, it’s fine.”

“You’re in Akron,” you repeated slowly. “Why are you in Akron?”

“Because I was in Chicago-”

“Which is not Akron, the last time I checked. Or even the same state,” you pointed out. You picked the quilt up from the floor and wrapped yourself back in it, settling on the couch again. The receiver cord had just enough reach that you were able to sit with your back against one arm and stare back out the window and the slippery wet metal of the fire escape glinting in the moonlight.

Vaguely you remembered this was the quilt Llewyn had used the last time he stayed with you.

“Well it’s on the way back,” Llewyn snapped. “And I wouldn’t be in Akron if the car I was in hadn’t broken down and…”

“Does this have something to do with Diane?” you asked softly. That sinewy tentacle of intuition was back, curling around your brain again.

The rough exhale of air on the other end of the line was the only answer you needed.

“Llewyn.” You said again, still soft, but more stern. Something was going on, and you could tell he wasn’t going to tell you without some prodding.

After what felt like hours, he finally muttered, “Maybe.”

“Llewyn, what are you doing? You can’t possibly want to talk to her, after everything that happened. Did the car really break down in Akron, or did you request a stop? Because it seems kind of suspect that you would just, you know, end up there of all places on your way back from Chicago, and what were you even doing in Chicago? I just saw you a couple days ago and you didn’t say anything about--”

It wasn’t until Llewyn broke through your rant that you noticed you’d hadn’t stopped for a single breath.

“The car really did break down,” he insisted. “And I don’t actually want to see her. Not really. But...I feel like I kind of have to, and it’s...it’s just a coincidence that I got stranded here?”

You didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t, and after a beat, he continued.

“I have a kid.”

It suddenly felt like all the air was sucked out of the room. “I’m sorry, what?” You knew he couldn’t see you, but maybe he could feel the way your eyebrows shot up your forehead.

“Diane,” he sighed again, “she didn’t...I found out she had the kid. So I have a kid. Somewhere in Akron. Where I’m currently stranded, looking like a drunk bum loitering outside a sketchy bar.”

You blinked infinitely as you stared out the window. What do you say to that? How do you say anything to that? So you just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Are you drunk?”

“Really?” Now you were pretty sure you could hear his brows raise. “Do I sound like I’ve been drinking?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just...holy shit, Llewyn,” you breathed. “And she never told you?”

His chuckle sounded so morose. “No. Why would she? That was a pretty shit time, for everyone.”

“I’m listening,” you whispered.

You knew the story of what happened between them. Llewyn had told you himself, one night over coffee and an entire chocolate cake that one of your elderly neighbors had made for you for helping her fix her leaky faucet. Of course, Jean had (in her own mind) helpfully filled in all the blanks she swore Llewyn left out, but you preferred to go with his version. She only thought you knew the basics. But that night, fueled by caffeine and frosting, Llewyn admitted you were the only one apart from the actual players that knew everything.

But this part? This was something new.

“She never told me,” he explained. “I thought she went through with it and it turned out she didn’t and she’s not even the one who told me, it was...you know, never mind. That part isn't important.”

“So when did you find out? How long have you been in Akron?”

He sighed. “Just before I left for Chicago. And since this afternoon. I thought about looking them up, but…”

And he told you how he tried an old number he had for Diane’s parents, but it was disconnected. And he’d asked around at the diner he found (over something called chili which wasn’t like any chili he’d ever had and just further proved how weird Ohio was) but got no information. And how he didn’t really want to see her, and maybe he didn’t even really want to meet up with anyone, but if he could, he at least wanted to see what his own kid looked like, just to know.

The longing in his voice, the what if, the hurt. It was all laid bare from hundreds of miles away, yet you could feel it hovering next to you on that couch. Wrapped around you in that threadbare quilt.

It didn’t feel like the time to offer any advice, and platitudes, any words at all. Not now. So you simply curled up in that quilt - his quilt - and listened. It was rare for him to open up like this and you didn’t want to interrupt, didn’t want to staunch the flow of emotional honesty that he quite frankly needed.

Until the tinny, pleasantly fabricated, slightly mechanical voice broke in, if you’d like to continue this call, please add funds, otherwise this call will disconnect in three minutes.

“Shit, that was my last quarter,” Llewyn muttered. “I’ll get back to you when I get back in town, yeah?”

Oh no, you brain screamed. Well, yes, but no, no he was not just going to let the issue drop like this, quarters be damned.

“Llewyn, I need you to listen to me. Get home as soon as you can, and we can talk about this more. And get here in one piece, please be safe.”

“Okay,” he replied with a heavy exhale.

“And...and Llewyn, when you get back home, please...please come home.”

There was silence from his end, silence that lasted so long you thought the call had disconnected without you noticing. Your breath stuck in your lungs, for how long you couldn’t tell, but then suddenly his voice came through the receiver again, flustered and short.

“I...okay, yeah, I will, I gotta go, but...damn it, what is there to lose now, I lo--”

And the call cut off.

You stared at the receiver in your hand for so long the fast busy-beep of the receiver being off the hook is the only thing that snapped you out of it.

You didn’t sleep for the rest of what was left of the night.

For the next day, and the day after, you ran the entire phone call through your head more times that you cared to admit. Every word he’d said, every word you’d said, every pause and admission and what he might have been trying to say at the end. Your mind very (un)helpfully offered all kinds of ideas about what wasn’t said, what maybe couldn’t yet be said, and you just let it tumble around chaotically. 

As if you could control it anyway.

You didn’t get much sleep.

Later that night, and on the second day after, after a long day at work and a longer day of thinking, you found yourself curled up on the couch again, with a glass of wine and a record spinning quietly on the turntable. Wrapped in that same quilt. Your quilt- his quilt.

You stared out the window, this time not at the rain, but the setting sun and the soft, rich colors it was painting across the sky.

You hoped he had really listened. You hope he knew what you actually meant. You hoped he wouldn’t get sidetracked as he often tended to do and that he would really show up. You didn’t know how you were going to do it, but you would help him like you always had. Together you would figure out what to do, what he needed to do, what he wanted to do, how to do it. Together.

This wasn’t something he should have to figure out on his own. He probably didn’t want to admit it, but you hope he knew he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, and didn’t have to. You hoped Llewyn would let you.

That tickle, that tentacle in the back of your brain, took firm hold. You knew he would come back, but you prayed he would come home.

That he had listened. That he knew. That he--

Your head snapped up at the sound of a knock on the door. You carefully set the wine glass down and slowly walked yourself, quilt and all, over to answer it.

And once you opened it, saw the man standing before you, exhausted and disheveled but...grateful, maybe even hopeful, you wrapped it around both of you and pulled Llewyn in.

~end~

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[elderbwrry]

Girls' Night

tags: the knights of ren, All Women Knights of Ren, Girl's night, Girl's Knight, haha please like me, Fluff and Humor, Adversarial Kylux, Very much a WIP, Kylux, although fair warning it might not be that relationshippy

Read it on ao3

Summary: Hux is surprised by what the Knights of Ren get up to in their free time - it's strangely humanising. Unfortunately, Ren is still being the Lord of all Assholes. Hux needs a way to get back at him. It gives him an idea.

Hux marched down the corridor in the Finalizer's quarters deck, the section dedicated to command personnel. The immaculately tiled and polished floors glinted as he whipped past them. He was walking a little faster than usual, he noticed with distaste, but it wasn't surprising; this was his last task before he could officially count his shift as “over” and, instead of standing stiffly on the bridge checking reports, he could settle down to checking them in the comfort of his quarters. His sofa beckoned, along with another three hours of beloved admin, then five necessary hours of sleep before his next shift.

Moments ticked by as he had to pause and wait for a security door to open, and he felt his frustration manifesting itself in his brow. He was currently delaying himself by heading approximately six minutes out of the way of his own quarters, all to give Ren little more than a telling off. This wasn't the first time the glorified poser had caused him this kind of issue – trust Ren to get in the way, he excelled at it – but it was the first time Hux was personally carrying the message round to his quarters that he needed to file a report for the mission he returned from over a week ago.

Hux had tried the usual ways of getting hold of Ren; on his return to the ship, Hux had informed him a report was due; an automated reminder had been sent; a follow-up reminder had been sent; Hux sent a reminder himself. Today, when his agenda noted that Ren still remained unresponsive, Hux hailed him over internal comms. No reply. He called Mitaka in, intending to send him to Ren's quarters, but the poor man had paled at the knight's very name. So, Hux had dismissed him, and undertaken to deliver the message himself.

Hux didn't bother to wonder the reason why Ren wasn't completing the report – undoubtedly it was because he was irresponsible, disrespectful, possibly illiterate – he only amused himself to wonder what foolish excuse would be employed this time. “Meditation,” Hux's mind supplied in a mocking approximation of Ren's voice without that ostentatious helmet, “important Force matters,” “training,” “I was just really tired and forgot :(”

He was just shaking his head disapprovingly at the imagined pout as he drew up outside the door itself. He pressed the button to request entry, pushing it harder than necessary until his thumb joint hurt, as if somehow that would convey through the automated, equalized buzz sound how annoyed he was with Ren taking up his time like this.

The door puffed open, and Hux's mouth was already opened to give Ren a piece of his mind when he realised that the person in front of him was not, in fact, Ren. Instead, stood before him was a woman nearly a head shorter than himself, her long, black hair piled on her head in a decidedly non-regulation messy bun, drawn away from her face, on which was slathered some kind of light pink paste. She was wrapped in a fluffy, pink dressing gown, under which appeared to be heart patterned pink pyjamas.

Hux's planned rebuke of Ren fell away into an, “Uh.” Usually, he had time to prepare himself for any kind of non-work-related interactions, but he had planned to go into this with a clipped, righteous annoyance and come out of it with a self-indulgent bit of riling Ren up, and now that Ren was not available for that, he had nothing.

“Yes?” she said, about as neutrally as Hux supposed anyone would, when called upon while attired as she was.

“I must have the wrong quarters,” was what he managed to reply.

“These aren't mine,” she explained, pointing behind her, around a corner which Hux couldn't see, “You looking for Kylo?”

“Yes,” Hux said stiffly, “is Ren here?”

The woman leaned back inside the door, around the corner Hux still couldn't see. “Kyle!” she called, “visitor.”

“He's not getting up, wet nails!” someone called back, another female sounding voice.

Just what was happening in there? How many women were there, and what were they doing in Ren's quarters, of all places, clad in such unofficial wear? Hux shuddered to think. Was he also going to have to remind Ren of the rules against fraternisation with inferior officers? That was sure to be a fun conversation of Ren not giving a kriff and Hux being able to do little but barb his words and maybe mention the situation to Snoke. Odd, though – Hux had never thought Ren had showed any preference for women... or perhaps that had just been wishful thinking.

The woman before him remained still for a moment, her brown eyes glazing over just slightly in a way which made Hux think she wasn't entirely mentally present. Then the look was gone as soon as it had come, and she frowned, annoyed. “He wants you to leave,” she informed him, “but he wasn't very nice about it, so you're coming in.” She turned and retreated back inside, beckoning casually for him to follow.

After a moment, once Hux's brain had caught up – Ren had just communicated with the woman through the Force, and now he was being invited in against those wishes. He slipped through the door, letting it puff closed behind him.

The first fact of the place was that Ren's quarters were larger than Hux's. Hux had known this, of course – he'd scoffed over the confirmation for the allocation when Ren had first transferred over, perfectly happy to take moderately sized quarters himself – but, as he walked down the grandly inlaid corridor from the entrance antechamber to what was presumably a living space, it contributed to the sense of an impending mystery as to what, exactly, he was about to discover. He hoped it was nothing too debauched.

“You're that General, aren't you?” the woman a step in front of him asked over her shoulder. “Hanks? Hugs?”

“Hux,” he corrected. He disliked intensely when people got his name wrong. He was the General of the ship they were all currently hurtling through space on, he was the General Starkiller – how could she not know who he was? “Who are you?”

“Ushar,” she replied easily. No rank, no designation of any sort, no actual deference to him as a General; all things Hux made a mental note of for later, when he could check the ship manifest.

“Might I ask what you're...”

Hux had begun to speak with an acerbic self-confidence – it was his ship, and he demanded to know what was happening on it – but it all became clear when Ushar opened the door to the central living area and the situation was revealed. It was the second time Hux had been caused to falter in his words in the last five minutes, and he didn't appreciate it. “What is this?” he asked, minorly horrified, as he took in the scene before him.

Ushar shrugged. “Girls' night.”

The room looked like some kind of stereotypical, tacky imitation of a Zeltronian spa had taken over. There were tall glasses of something bubbly scattered around, half-drunk, the bottle chilling in a bucket of ice on the coffee table, which was scattered with cosmetic items. A holo-romance was playing off to the side. Boxes of chocolates fountained forth crunched up wrappers. There were four women – two humans, a zabrak and a twi'lek – lounging around in the pit of cushions the room had been turned into. The cushions were allpink to match the identical pink bath robes and headbands and fluffy slippers the room's inhabitants were sporting. And, at the centre of it all; Ren.

“You...” Hux started, under his breath just enough that no-one would take notice of the stammering. He had certainly not expected this. “I...”

Ren, clad too in pink fluffy bath robe, seemingly with nothingunder it this time, finally took notice that Ushar had led Hux in, as he sat up quickly and angrily, removing slices of some green vegetable from over his eyes. The woman who had been painting his toenails – black, possibly the only thing that could reconcile the Ren Hux was used to with this strange, pink perversion before him – protested, but he ignored her, instead hurrying to his feet and wading his way out of the pillows.

“I told you to make him leave,” Ren growled at Ushar, but the effect was considerably diminished thanks to his appearance. The bathrobe he wore was the short, fun kind of style which only came to his knees; the pink headband kept all his hair back from his face gave him a kooky sort of bird's nest; his face was slathered with a light green version of what Ushar had on, all except for comical spaces around his eyes and lips.

Ushar glared at him. “You shouldn't have ordered me like that, then,” she said, going over to sit next to the zabraki woman, shuffling in closer than was strictly platonic and picking up one of the glasses. “I'm not some stormtrooper.”

“You're ruining the night,” Ren brandished the vegetable slice at her. It wobbled.

“You'reruining the night!” the woman Ushar was sat next to shot back. “He's here after you!”

“Yeah, Kyle,” the twi'lek said from the sofa in a tone that was very much mocking, but still friendly, popping a chocolate in her mouth. Who were these people, that they could speak to Kylo Ren like this and get away with it?

Ren turned back to Hux, glowering. The face paste made him look like a clown. The outside finally reflects the inside, Hux thought to himself while wondering if Ren had waxed his legs or if they were just like that naturally, and had to force himself not to laugh. He obviously didn't mask his expressions quite as well as he should have, however, because Ren seemed to sense that Hux was amusing himself at his expense. Seizing Hux's upper arm in a grip to rival that of a hangar-bay droid, Ren manhandled Hux back to the door of the room, away from the group.

“Unhand me, you oaf,” Hux admonished, shaking Ren off him and lowering his tone a little so as not to disturb the ladies, who, in their disregard of Ren's plumped-up edginess, had endeared themselves to him.

“Why are you here?” Ren demanded before he'd even finished speaking, also at subdued pitch.

“Why are you here?” Hux returned, hissingly. “Who are these people? Why are you not completing the mission report which you have had no fewer than five requests for? Why the hells are your quarters this gods-awful colour?”

Ren took a moment to glare at Hux.

Hux interpreted this as having the upper hand. “Well?”

“I'm not completing any more of your stupid kriffing reports,” he said as if it were obvious. “I told you that already.”

Hux cycled through his memory quickly. He remembered Ren slamming down the last report onto his desk and threatening something similar, but he'd disregarded it, because reports were Necessary, and it was not a possibility for anyone to simply not do them.

“You will do the report,” Hux replied.

“No.”

“You'll do it now.”

Ren snorted. “No.”

Hux bristled. “Ren, I have been forced to come down here – well out of my way – to extract this report from you, only to find you sitting around like some... pampered princess, when I could be-”

“Good point actually, let's return to it. What are you doing down here?” Ren frowned and crossed his arms, but his lips curled cruelly, ready, Hux was sure, to make some insult about his doing such menial work.

“That brings me to the next matter,” Hux plucked the opportunity of throwing in this additional argument, squaring up. “You have intimidated my administrative staff to the point where it is necessary that I waste my time in a way which is thoroughly unacceptable to me.”

Ren widened his eyes in mock sympathy. “Did you forget how to use a comm?”

This only pissed Hux off more, because something about the movement was ridiculously attractive. He wasn't sure whether it was the slight shrug which emphasised Ren's muscular arms, the fact that the pink really brought out the rich shade of his hair, or even the cruelty behind the act itself, but it could not stand.

“I'm quite familiar with the comms system,” he spat, “it seems that you are the one having trouble, since you failed to reply to my hails. As my co-commander,” (Hux had practised in his bathroom mirror not grimacing as he said this) “you are expected to answer your comms when I call. It is highly unprofessional of you to shirk your duty like this.”

Ren momentarily pursed his lips. His next words were caustic. “I don't intend to waste my life away at work like you do, slaving over a tablet until I look like the living dead. At least I know how to relax.”

Hux's eye twitched. “I know how to relax.” An imagined image of himself on his icy blue sofa in his black and red robe, his cat to one side, his data-pad in hand, appeared in his mind. That was relaxing.

“No you don't,” Ren scoffed. “You should see the bags under your eyes. You look more drawn out than all the Starkiller blueprints put together.”

Mentally, Hux's self-image adjusted so that his porcelain skin turned grey, the lines of his face more prominent, the room dark until only he was visible by the harsh light of the data-pad. It could not have been more different than his current surroundings of pink and fluffiness and companionship and soft lighting.

“Get out of my head, Ren,” he said, putting the warping of his imagined scene down to some Force meddling.

“I'm not in your head,” Ren replied, “you're just sad and lonely and jealous that you have to go do a report while I have a nice night with my knights – my friends. You,” he pointed sassily, “could never have this,” he pointed back to the ladies. “Now kriff off, I'm not doing the report. Maybe you should do it yourself, since you have such a boner for that kind of thing.” The door far behind Hux puffed open, presumably manipulated by the Force.

“I expect the report before the end of my shift tomorrow,” Hux said, voice dangerous and low. How dare Ren speak to him like that. How dare he judge what Hux did to relax, while he was being a layabout with these random, cool ladies... doing... fun things like... painting nails and getting tipsy... and watching holo-dramas... and... he wasn't jealous.

“Leave,” Kylo told him.

Hux narrowed his eyes. “You will regret this, Ren.” He turned on his heel and marched from the room, commenting to himself once more as the door puffed closed behind him, “You will regret this.”

[line break]

Kylo watched Hux retreat from the room, waiting until the door had closed to turn and make his way back to his knights. He flopped himself back down onto the floor, jostling Ap'lek's sofa cushions in the process.

“Ah kriff,” he complained as he saw his black-smudged toes stretched out in front of him, “he made me ruin my nail paint.”

“I'm not doing them again,” Trudgen said, tossing the little black bottle at him, shifting around to watch the holo and grabbing a chocolate. “You shoulda been more careful when you got up instead of rushing off to be a bitch.”

Kylo sighed over-dramatically and called out, “Cardo!” She and Kuruk were in the kitchen, probably making an unsightly mess of the place, but Kylo knew only she would be willing to finish the paint for him. Of course, he would have to take the chance that the stuff would end up even more smudged than it already was, and, now he was thinking about it, he would probably be better off just dipping his entire feet in nail polish.

A chocolate wrapper hit the side of his head. He turned to see Ushar had thrown it. “Just do it yourself,” she told him, “it's not like it's hard.”

But he wanted to feel spoiled, that was the whole point of this spa evening anyway. He called Cardo's name again, whinier this time.

“What?!” came the shouted reply, “We're making mug muffins!”

Vicrul frowned, straightening up a little where her arm was thrown around Ushar's shoulders. “In the microwave?”

“Yeah!”

“Huh,” Vicrul shrugged, settling back down again. “Good luck cleaning that.”

Kylo groaned, letting his head fall back onto the sofa cushion behind him. First Hux was on him about a report, then none of his knights would do his nails for him, now Cardo was splattering his lovely microwave with chocolate batter. This was all Hux's fault. Kylo wasn't sure how yet, but it was.

He opened his eyes to see Ap'lek looking down at him, where his head rested by her left elbow. “What's this about a report then?” she asked flatly. Kylo just groaned again and re-closed his eyes.

“You can't be procrastinating this stuff again,” Ushar nagged him over the sound of footsteps, accompanied by a smell of chocolate, and a thunk-clink of a tray with spoons being set down on the table as the cooks brought the muffins through. “Your job is important, here, Kylo. Snoke wants you to do well.”

“To hell with Snoke,” Kylo mumbled, hoping the crusty fart wasn't spying on his thoughts as they spoke. Paperwork was a fate worse than a fate worse than all the Sith hells combined.

“Then we want you to do well,” she continued.

“Plus we blew up so much shit on that mission,” Vicrul added, and Kylo opened his eyes to glare at her as she accepted a mug from Kuruk.

“You have to tell the General about that some time, why not put it in a report? You'd save him lots of time, probably. I bet he'd be so appreciative.”

Kylo accepted a mug proffered by Kuruk and waved it about a bit. “Since when do we care about saving Hux time? I meant what I said, he loves paperwork so much he probably,” he picked up a spoon and stabbed it into the fluffy top of the muffin, watching steam come out as he tried to pick a suitably ridiculous image of Hux. “He probably sleeps with all the files strewn over his bed and like,” he made a face, “rubs them on his body, gets all cozy with them at night. I don't know.”

“I'm pretty sure he does paperwork on his data-pad,” Ap'lek said, and she was right, though Kylo resented that she'd killed his roll.

“Just do the kriffing report, Kyle.” Trudgen hadn't pulled her attention away from the holo enough to face him as she'd said it, but apparently had been paying enough attention to comment, “Anything to stop him showing up and interrupting us. Girls' night is a no-business zone.”

Cardo chose that moment to vault over the back of the sofa and land heavily on the cushions. “Ooh, General Hux came over?” she asked cheerfully. Her hands were, predictably, still coated in chocolate powder. “I can't believe I missed him, I want to see if his hair is gelled that solid from close up.” She grabbed her mug and dug into the muffin.

“The General shouts too much,” Kuruk said, sitting cross legged on a cushion by the coffee table. “He should check his blood pressure, it can't be good for him.”

“Hey, a bit like you!” Cardo added, “You must call me through next time. He's cute.”

Kylo opened his mouth – partly to gape at what had just been said, and partly because the muffin was too hot and he hadn't had the impulse control to prevent eating a large spoonful. “Hey!” he started a few times, mouth full and burning. Finally, he was able to swallow. “He is not cute, and there will be no,” he wobbled his mug and spoon in a no-fingered version of quotation marks, “next time.”

“Then do the report,” Ushar shot back.

Kylo made a loud complaint noise.

“He's not gonna do it because he wants the General to come over again,” Ap'lek teased, and, to Kylo's horror, all his knights laughed. Traitors. He didn't want Hux to come over again.

“I don't,” he replied vehemently, “I want him to kriff off and stop annoying me.”

“I think that's against his job description,” Kuruk said, prompting further laughs.

“You should just do it,” Ushar said, getting to her feet after a moment more.

“Hey, where you going?” Vicrul asked sadly, not letting go of Ushar's hand.

“Babe, I gotta peel my face.”

“Wait, let me come with, it's really satisfying.”

The two disappeared off, and Kylo had to add 'his knights screwing in his bathroom' to his list of sub-par things to happen this evening. He wasn't going to do the report. He couldn't be bothered, he didn't want to, he hated writing things and making them sound 'formal'. No, tonight he was going to finish his mug muffin, paint his nails and fall asleep with his knights in front of a trashy holo-romance. Hux would get the hell in eventually and do the report himself. Give it a few more days, and Kylo was sure Hux would drop the issue.

[snapdragon-mina]

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."

[thegeneralguy]

The Champion of Olympus - Zeus´s Zeal

“To your right you can see the ruins of the fabled temple of Zeus, the once deity patron of the city. A statue in his honor was considered a world wonder in the ancient world. Now if you follow me…”

The enthusiastic tour guide waved her little red flag to gather the group of students listening to her. It was a particularly windy summer day when Markie Laur and some of his college classmates were taken on a tour through Greek archeological sites. This excursion was one of the only excuses’ students found in order to participate in this lecture. Markie himself had little to do in a Greek and Roman mythology course, being an engineering major. His two best friends convinced him to join the course so they could do a tour around Europe together. Besides, the free credits were always welcome.

The excursion moved sluggishly through the different ruins in the archeological site. Some students were very interested in the information and keen in on learning more. They engaged in discussion and conversation with the tour guide and their professor. Markie and his friends were none of them. They hung out in the back of the tour. Robert was showing Jordan different bars in Amsterdam on his phone, both plotting enthusiastically how many drugs they would be able to take and how many European girls were they going to take back to their hotel room once they were there. Markie just hung out on the back watching the sites in peace. Although the three 21 year old college students shared the same nerdy nature, Markie was the shyest of the three. He didn´t share the other two´s deliriums of grandeur, nor sexual preference for the matter. His insecure nature made him unsure to come out to the supposedly closest friends he had in college. He was friends with Robert and Jordan out of survival instinct more than true friendship.

Markie and Robert landed in the same dorm room on their freshman year. Jordan was Robert´s hometown neighbor that had the luck of landing in the same college as his best friend. Both were boastful economy majors who tried and failed constantly in on inserting themselves amongst the more popular social circles. Markie was more down to earth than the other two, completely conscious that the combination of his cherub face, short unathletic body and shy personality automatically put him on the bottom layer of the Darwinist ladder that was college life. Robert saw the physical similarities of his roommate as a reason to adopt him into their duo, and so the three of them started hanging out together, playing videogames, making complex plans to get into some fraternity parties and talking about their crushes. Markie just went along with it. Drug use, even though mild was where he drew the line, completely paranoid that he was going to get expelled if caught.

Now the three of them were finishing their sophomore year with cero conquests under their belts, so their trip to Europe was the only hope of Robert and Jordan to get some of the validation they had been craving.

The sun started setting down as the tour started heading towards the information center to compare notes and conclude the visit. The day had gotten increasingly stormy, with dark clouds gathering on the sky and blocking the sunset light. Markie was still on the far back of the group, his gaze scanning the surrounding ruins. He started wondering why the site was so empty, with none other than the little group ahead of him on sight.

“Maybe there´s bad weather coming.”

He thought as a chill crossed his spine. He stopped to take his sweater out of his backpack, completely missing that everyone, including his friends continued advancing down the road until he was left completely alone. Markie put on his oversized college sweatshirt, his body practically drowning in the garment. He looked around searching for his friends, but there was no one on sight. An ominous wind started blowing, moving the grass with an eerie rhythm. The trees rustled next to him, and the faint sound of thunder resonated in the distance.

“Guys? Rob?”

His anxiety started acting out, as he nervously wandered on the dirt road looking for his friends. The path started to disappear slowly, leaving tall luscious grass behind. An unseen force was guiding Markie through the glade. His mind was racing, already making up hundreds of scenarios where he got lost and was never able to return home. He just felt he needed to move forward, and so he did. The breeze around him kept getting stronger, with little droplets of rain being blown straight into his face.

Suddenly Markie found himself right in the middle of the ruins of the temple of Zeus. He recognized them from the tour, being the only part that really caught his attention for some reason. The sound of thunder kept getting stronger, as the air current suddenly started to form a whirlwind around him. The rain had gotten stronger, pouring down furiously and completely drenching him.

Markie started having a panic attack, his breathing getting to the point of hyperventilation. He suddenly felt an incredible pressure on top of him. He looked up to one of the columns and saw a gigantic golden eagle perched on top of it. A bright lightning bolt completely blinded his eyesight for an instant, and when he looked up once again, he was confronted with a vision of the most perfect man he had ever seen.

His gargantuan chest was framed by two sets of enormous shoulders, which were connected to two arms so muscular they must have been around the same girth as Markie´s waist. Powerful legs supported the massive body of the gorgeous man, whose height made him seem double the body size of the little 5´6 college student. The luscious curls of his golden beard fell right in the middle of his chest, as his gorgeous mane of equally beautiful hair framed a face that looked near aesthetic perfection. Features that exuded masculinity, but still kept a supernatural beauty that was only present in the sculptures of antiquity. The man was wearing a white robe tied only on top of one of his shoulders, with big golden bracelets on each of his wrists. The man emitted a light glow from his body, like his whole silhouette was encased in a halo.

“Who—o a—are you? Did I die?”

Asked Markie nervously. His gaze couldn’t find anything else other than the godly fantasy in front of him.

“Silence boy. I´m going to grant you a gift. A gift all mortals would kill for.”

“A gift? Please don´t hurt me. I´m really sorry if I trespassed, I can´t find….”

“I said quiet!”

The man roared with fury. Markie managed to get out a panicked yelp as thunder stroke the ground all around him.

“You really remind me of him. Come and find me when you´re ready. All your questions will be answered. Enjoy it boy, for it will come with a price.”

The man pointed his finger at him. Suddenly Markie felt a jolt of electricity course all across his body. He was afraid he was going to be fried by the stud in front of him. Lighting fell again very close to the man, completely blinding Markie again. When he looked up the storm was gone, and so was the man. He briefly thought he imagined everything, until he felt his soaking wet clothes. He could also still feel the light static effect he felt when the stranger raised his finder towards him. He wondered if his friends had pranked him by sneaking in some hallucinogen into his water bottle when the annoyed voice of his professor grounded him back on reality.

“Mr. Laur, may I remind you that profanation of ancient heritage sites is strictly punished by the law? Come back here this instant. The bus is waiting for us.”

Markie rushed out of the ruins to join his classmates on the bus back into town. He briefly looked back at Zeus´s temple one last time, and thought he saw a big bird fly fast into the sky.

 “Whoa man did you jump into the fountain or something?”

Asked Robert when he saw his roommate entering the bus soaking wet.

“Very funny Rob. It was the rain.”

Answered Markie unenthusiastically as he took the seat behind Robert and Jordan.

“What rain dude, its as dry as Angela´s pussy over there.”

Whispered Jordan giggling whilst nodding in the direction of one of their most conservative classmates. Markie didn´t even reply to his friend´s crude comment, as the bus slowly departed the site towards the hotel. Olympia wasn´t a big city, but his classmates had already made plans in meeting in the small bar next to the hotel to talk about the trip so far and have some drinks. Robert and Jordan kept snorting and laughing from time to time watching some random insta-girl´s page.

“What a pair of losers.”

Thought Markie to himself as he pondered on his friends’ blatant misogyny. He kept staring out the window into the dark void in front of him. His smooth boyish face greeted him back on the black window. He took a moment to really look at himself. Other than the childish rounded cheeks and soft features, he wasn´t so ugly. His dark brown eyes gave him a friendly look, and his teeth were straight and white. He could look much cuter if he put some effort into it. Stop shaving his dark brown hair with an electric razor, paid an actual hairstylist to get him on of those popular haircuts every guy on the internet had and get some actual sunlight in order to improve the corpse looking hue on his skin would get him far. He could finally stop hanging out with those guys.

The sudden confidence rush went away as fast as it came, leaving Markie languishing in self doubt once again.

“Who am I kidding? I´ll never have the confidence to be on my own.”

Crippling social anxiety and low self esteem were the true shackles tying him to a lonely existence, not the way he looked. Confidence could completely change someone´s image of themselves, making him attractive to himself and by inertia to others as well.

The sudden epiphany caused a golden spark to light in on Markie´s eyes, just an instant so he could see it, but not slow enough so he could know if it was real or a product of his imagination. The static feeling was slowly turning into a constant tingling spreading all across his body. A droplet of sweat travelled down his temple as he felt his body heat slowly rising. He took away his sweatshirt only to find his equally wet t-shirt clinging to his thin body, but showing a tiny strip of skin belonging to his lower belly. If it were dry Markie would´ve also noticed a certain tightness on the kid sized garment, his torso gaining an almost imperceptible amount of mass. He still felt as if he was being asphyxiated by his own clothes. His temperature was rising so high that he could almost feel a humidity cloud form all around him coming from his wet clothes.

“Markie! Man you´re really off today.”

Markie was so busy fighting his need to rip his t-shirt off so hard he barely noticed the curious eyes of both of his friends staring at him.

“We need to get you some new clothes. You have to look your best if we´re gonna go hunting man!”

Said Robert enthusiastically as he high fived Jordan. Markie just answered with a nervous laugh as he kept trying not to cause a scene in a moving vehicle.

After what felt like an eternity the bus arrived at the hotel. Markie practically jumped out of his seat and rushed towards the exit. He could also feel his jeans ending a bit above his ankles, and his shoes constricting his feet. The first thing he thought was that the water had shrunken his clothes, but after feeling the sensation spread along the static tingling, he suspected this could be related to that fever dream he had in the ruins.

The professor gathered everyone right outside the bus to plan the rest of the evening. Markie stood there impatiently among his fellow classmates feeling increasing discomfort. The tingling turned to numbness, making him lose sensation on his hands and feet. The only thing he wanted was to get back to his room so he could wash himself and get into fresh clothes. His usual nervous expression started turning into an angry sneer, as his impatience grew along with his discomfort. As soon as the professor dismissed them, Markie rushed straight through the small hotel doors directly to the room he shared with his two friends. He got into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

He was sweating profusely and his body heat started rising so high an actual steam cloud started forming around him. The numbness in his limbs had turn into an excruciating pain, as cramps travelled all across his body tensing the little muscle mas he had. He felt like he was being electrocuted. He looked into the mirror and was greeted by a bizarre image of himself wearing a little kid´s clothes. The t-shirt looked more like a crop top now, the little sleeves were being strained by two longer arms. His pants were riding halfway up his calves. He managed to kick out the shoes that were also clearly a few sizes too small for his grown feet. Markie did his best not to scream in pain due to the sensations assaulting his body.

The small lightbulb illuminating the bathroom started flickering and a small air current started forming around Markie. A sharp pain in his stomach made him turn to the toilet and throw up the little food he had ingested during the day. Shivers crossed his body as the cramps got stronger. He could see the ligaments in his hands contracting and moving on their own because of the strong muscle spasms. He turned his face back into the bowl and retched loudly clasping his stomach, tears of effort running down his cheeks.

“Markie? Are you alright in there?”

Asked Robert knocking on the bathroom door. He was so distracted by the sensations assaulting his body that he completely missed his friends enter the hotel room. He responded with a quiet “yeah” and made a conscious effort in making it sound as calm as possible. The last thing he wanted was those guys seeing him in his current state.

“I´ll be out in a minute.”

Said Markie as he managed to pull himself back on his feet. The wind in the bathroom had gotten stronger, and Markie could swear he could hear the faint sound of thunder inside the room. He grabbed the edge of the sink and looked into the mirror. His face was completely red, and his hair was dripping sweat as if a cloud was pouring rain on top of him. He looked at himself straight in the eyes, and then it happened. A golden color started to seep out of his pupils, changing the brown hue of his iris. It looked like molten gold was being directly injected into his eyes. Once the new color took completely over, the lightbulb started shining so bright it completely burst after a few seconds. Markie heard the glass shards fall on the ground, and the room was left in complete darkness. The only source of light were his iridescent golden eyes.

He tried to move to the side, but he accidentally stepped on a few glass pieces and slipped on the wet floor. He howled in pain and steadied himself with the bathroom sink. He also didn’t realize his hand moved way too close to the electrical outlets next to the mirror. A faint crackling sound could be heard, and white sparks started jumping out of the outlet.  Suddenly, a lightning bolt shot straight out of the outlet directly into Markie´s hand. He tried to scream, but not a single noise came out of his mouth. The wind started flowing stronger, forming a vortex with the college student straight in the center. Another lightning bolt coming from an electrical outlet on top of the floor flew straight heading for his other hand. Both currents formed two chain lightning shackles that tied the boy in the center of the room.

Markie felt vertigo, as his growth spurt continued on an accelerated pace, putting him over a foot from his original height. His feet grew proportionally to help him stabilize his now towering stature, the skin on his soles hardening and expelling the glass shards he slipped on earlier. The electric shackles started spreading lighting bolts up his arms and into his torso, completely burning the remains of the already ripped small t-shirt. He felt an excruciating pain while his bone structure changed. His clavicle extended, pushing both of his shoulders further to the sides. His ribcage also expanded together with his waist. The remains of his pants started digging painfully into the skin of his hips. Once the bones finished their transformation, the pain started to subside.

Markie stood in the middle of the room completely disoriented. His new height made everything take on different dimensions and the irregular sparks and lightning bolts were illuminating the bathroom in all kinds of bizarre ways. Not to mention the wind throwing all kinds of hygiene supplies all around. His gaze found his reflection in the mirror. He looked like an underfed giant of a man. It was like the little muscle mass he had was distributed evenly across his new size, leaving him practically just bones and skin. He watched the flashy shackles fascinated, as sparks jumped and squirmed in the air before fading into blackness.

Suddenly, he felt the strong static feeling on his wrists, as lightning bolts dug under his skin and spread through his body. He could feel the electrical current inside of him, the pain of the intense cramps returning in major scale. Electricity was contracting every muscle fiber, breaking and healing them very rapidly. New muscle nuclei started forming as well in order to endure the work the chain lightning was putting them through. Markie´s hands were the first to grow. Delicate long fingers filled with strong muscle, as his palms expanded and hardened. Callouses formed to protect them from the heavy labor they were now designed to do. They looked comically large, comparable to big baseball mitts on a small child. The transformation immediately shot right up his forearms, expanding them to incredible size that would put Popeye out of work without question. Strong sinews connected his powerful hands to his elbows, giving them a vice like strength too atop of their intimidating look. His upper arms picked up on the growth too, biceps inflating to the size of a cantaloupe and triceps completely defying gravity jutting so far out the back of his arms it looked like someone had welded big horseshoes on his already enormous arms. The shoulders expanded next, gaining epic proportions comparable to a pumpkin on top of each arm. Markie gritted his teeth in pain as he caught a glimpse of what has happening to him. He looked like a doll that had gotten the arms of a He-Man toy accidentally glued on his lanky torso.

A strong spasm in his chest caused him to fall forwards, the shackles on his arms preventing him from touching the ground. He was scared for a second, he was having a heart attack, as each pectoral muscle twitched and pulsed manipulated by the electric current. His chest started inflating rapidly in all directions, rising high on the top reaching for his chin, and squaring off in the bottom, leaving a big shelf hanging from the distressed student´s upper body. The electric bolts reached for his nipples, hardening them and expanding them until the former tack sized miniatures grew to a more manly dollar coin size.

Markie could feel the electricity running all across his spine, engorging his back so support such a top-heavy body. His traps developed in the upper part, reaching for his ears, and his lats expanded to the sides pushing the gargantuan arms to the sides on a permanent forty-degree angle. His lower back developed strongly to support the heavy muscle on the top. Then he felt as if someone was punching him straight on his stomach, as each individual abdominal muscle popped from his midsection, carving a deep valley in the center of his body, and leaving him with a truly enviable small waist that made the proportions on the upper body look more freakish.

The cramps then travelled down his waist, focusing on his practically non-existent glutes, contracting and twisting them. His ass started to slowly inflate into two pairs of gravity defying boulders, completely ripping the rest of his pants and leaving Markie with his tight white briefs, which looked more like a thong being swallowed by the two monstrous muscles. His manhood was left completely ignored by the electrical current, leaving him practically flat on the front. Each quadricep spasmed and developed deep cut muscle, growing to gigantic proportions in order to move this behemoth of a body around. Calves inflated next leaving him with two powerful football looking muscles ready to propel Markie in whichever direction he wanted. His feet were the last part of his body to change, filling with powerful strength to support the now card-carrying bodybuilder.

As soon as the last part of his body concluded growing, the electrical shackles were absorbed into Markie´s body. He started to emit a faint glow, dimly illuminating the bathroom. His pale skin took on a golden hue. He looked into the mirror once again and he saw his face with two glowing eyes on top of a body that wasn’t his. The miniature storm inside the room also subsided, leaving him quietly staring into the mirror.

“Is that really me?”

Asked Markie to himself whilst touching his powerful chest. He accidentally brushed one of his nipples with his hand, and it caused a small electrical current to travel across his chest. Only this time it wasn´t pain what he felt, but pleasure. Markie had a very prude attitude, barely exploring sex by himself, let alone with somebody else. But this sensation sparked something else in him. An instinct buried so deeply within insecurities, that it had remained imperceptible to him. But something inside his was pushing him to do it again, to finally unleash the real him.

“I can´t believe it. This can´t be real.”

Markie raised an arm and flexed. Powerful muscle twitched and pumped inside of him, his bicep raising higher and higher. He chuckled slightly. A quiet laugh that increased in intensity, as Markie explored and felt every new part of his anatomy. He then took his other nipple between his fingers and pinched it slightly. An even stronger pleasure jolt shot across his body.

The college boy was becoming less and less of a boy the more he touched himself. Confidence was flooding every inch of his being. Someone who looked like a God should behave as a God as well thought Markie, while his slow caresses of his body turned to an intense erotic massage. His hand touched the deep crevices of his abdomen, and slowly found its way to the boy´s less than impressive endowment.

“This simply won´t do.”

Said Markie in a quasi-trance like state. He slowly reached to the electrical outlet again, and focused all of his energy in summoning that spark again. His call was quickly answered, as an intense lightning bolt shot straight towards his hand again.

“Yes. Give me more. More strength. More power.”

Said Markie, his boyish voice taking on a powerful commanding voice. He then took the hand connected with the electricity to his crotch, and grabbed his bulge once again. The electricity then travelled directly into his manhood, shotting bolts of pleasure all over Markie´s body. His mind was filled with images of intimacy, of epic scenes of desire and encyclopedic sexual knowledge.

“Fuck yeah. More.”

He cursed for the first time in his life, while the overwhelming sensation clouded the last of his senses and erased the old Markie from existence, leaving a blank canvas for his new godly persona to take place. His manhood started growing to divine proportions, completely straining the briefs to the point of breaking. White tatters fell to the floor, as his equine endowment raised straight and up, reaching almost a foot in length. Like the rest of his body, the girth proportions adjusted too, leaving him with practically an extra limb on his lower body, as thick as a baby arm. His testicles inflated like water balloons until each was the size of a lemon. The powerful divine seed inside them started seeping it´s essence to the rest of his body, as Markie reached the final step of his transformation.

His neck thickened, and his moans of pleasure started dropping in pitch until his boy-like cadence reached an intimidating deep baritone. He grunted as his mandible contorted and expanded into comic book hero proportions. A cleft formed on his powerful chin, and his teeth grew to fit the new size of his mandible. His lips thinned out giving him a serious look. The baby fat on his cheeks evaporated, leaving sharp angular features behind. His nose remained straight, but grew to accommodate the aesthetic of the new man´s face. His brow expanded and hooded over his eyes, giving him a stern serious look.

His shaved brown hair then started growing on the top, parting sideways and acquiring a thick silky texture, along with a golden tone. The new blonde´s body hair flourished right afterwards. Clear body hair sprouted on his forearms and on top of his hands, but the rest of him remained smooth. The hair in his pits and on his pubic region also changed to a blonde hue, before falling down leaving the new man completely shaved. Changes in the hair follicles were made, as this was a very hairy man that manscaped regularly. Thick stubble then grew on his face, leaving a permanent five o´clock shadow. Finally, a thick mustache and a soul patch formed around his mouth, completing the transformation.

Where once stood a puny college student, now stood a complete god of a man. The former 21 year old looked almost a decade older, not that it would worry him too much because his mind also started changing to accommodate the new bodybuilder. His fears and worries completely evaporated, leaving behind a man that lived in the moment. He ate when he wanted to, he went where he wanted to and he fucked whenever he wanted to. His repulsion for his nickname grew, and he decided to adopt his full name from ow on.  Where there was once a Markie now stood Marcus, the champion of the thunder god Zeus.

He flexed and roared in triumph as one last lightning bolt shot through the outlet reaching him. Veins started popping on his arms and legs, like lightning coursing through a stormy sky. He turned around and opened the bathroom door, stepping into the world for the first time.

“What do you think of this one?”

Said Jordan whilst showing his friend one of the many fedora hats he brought to the trip.

“Who cares? Fedoras aren’t cool anymore man. It´s all over the internet, look it up.”

Answered Robert exasperated of having to go through another wardrobe dilemma. He couldn´t stop thinking about Markie and his weirder than usual attitude these last couple of hours. His roommate had been in the bathroom for a while now, but there was no sound coming from the bathroom ever since Markie answered him, he was fine.

“Do you think Markie is okay in there?”

He asked Jordan, who barely looked up from his suitcase.

“I don´t know. But who cares man? Less dead weight for us when we go for the chicks later.”

“He´s not a dead weight Jordan. I know Markie is shy and kind of weird, but he´s a great guy. Trust me, I know. I live with him.”

“We both know why he´s like that. Not that I have anything against it, but its impressive how he thinks no one realizes the way he looks at those douches from the frat sometimes.”

“He will tell us whenever he´s ready. And even if he´s not it´s okay. He will still be my friend. And I hope yours too Jordan.”

“Come on man. I like gay dudes. Less competition for us. I just don´t want him to ruin our hunt with his angst when we go out to the bar.”

“It´s about time to get going though. I´m gonna ask Markie if we should meet him directly in the bar, if It hasn´t confused him with a child and kidnaped him through the sink.”

Both friends laughed at the reference just as Robert approached the bathroom door once again.

“Markie my man, we´re gonna get going. You can meet us there if you want, but don´t feel rushed take your time. Hope that you´re okay though.”

He said knocking lightly on the door. A faint grumble could be heard on the other side, but Markie didn´t answer. Robert took that as a response, and he turned around to prepare his stuff and go.

Suddenly, the bathroom door opened with such a force it ripped it out of it´s hinges. A blinding light was coming from the bathroom, together with enough steam to turn the small hotel room into a sauna. Robert and Jordan watched completely in shock as the new Marcus stepped out of the bathroom, his whole body enveloped in a golden halo. Both college students looked tiny in comparison to the enormous wall of muscle standing in front of them.

“Who—o a—are you? Whe—ere´s Ma—arkie?”

Managed to squeak Robert nervously while his eyes scanned every mountain and every valley that composed the behemoth´s body.

“It is Marcus now, my friends. Come and bathe in all my glory.”

Said Marcus while raising both of his arms and flexing his latissimus muscles, completely eclipsing the now small in comparison bathroom door. A potent smell started wafting through the air, impregnating the steam with masculine pheromones coming directly from the giant´s underarms. Both Robert and Jordan were put in a trance like state, and approached the shining man.

“Yes. Come to me. I will show you the true meaning of pleasure.”

Deep primal instincts were awoken in both boys. Lust, submission and adoration completely eclipsed the nervous feeling both had. As soon as their hands touched Marcus´s chest, an intense shock of pleasure shot through both of their bodies, travelling directly to their brains completely burning their old personas out of their heads. Both boys had their irises completely drained of color, leaving white mindless eyes behind. Marcus took each one of them by their waists and pulled them close. Their hands started exploring the giant´s body, leaving a trail of sparks jumping off the radiant skin.

He then leaned down to kiss Robert, while Jordan worked his way down licking the sweat off his chest and descending slowly through the cobblestone road on his midsection. His giant manhood was already hard as an iron bar, eager for attention. As soon as Jordan´s mouth made contact with the pulsing member, a strong stream of electricity started inundating his body. The small muscles spasmed and expanded to ridiculous proportions. The small belly he had grown out of eating too many pizza slices and drinking mountain dew evaporated into this air, leaving a hard six pack behind. His chest raised, forming two pillows sticking far out of his chest. His limbs contracted and expanded into heroic proportions, leaving the new man at least a hundred pounds heavier with pure lean mass. He stayed at the same 5´6 height, making the new man a fireplug of a bodybuilder.

He had already kneeled down and was worshipping the godly pole in front of him, savoring the nectar coming from the tip as if he was drinking ambrosia directly from the source. His face cracked and rearranged leaving brutish heavy features, but still holding onto some beauty. Age seeped into his skin and his muscles, seasoning them with the hardness of a more adult male. All his hair fell down, except his eyebrows, leaving the man completely smooth. His skin took on a stronger golden hue than Marcus, without the glow.

Meanwhile Marcus was inserting his large tongue into his former friend´s mouth, completely invading him. Robert´s jaw cracked and rearranged into a sharp square. His cheekbones raised and the fat melted off his face, leaving a shockingly handsome face behind. Unlike his friend, Robert stayed young, his visage devoid of any single imperfection. He slowly grew up a couple of inches, but still remaining far off the height of the god sodomizing his mouth. His body then expanded, muscles piling on top of each other, but also craving themselves deep into his body. His former chubby physique completely shed off any excess fat, leaving him at a single digit body fat percentage. His chest didn´t hang as far as Jordan´s, but it squared off in the bottom as if being carved out of a marble statue by a classical sculptor. His eight pack was accentuated by the sharp Adonis belt pointing downwards. His legs and arms grew muscular, each individual sinew visible thanks to the thin skin on top of them. He had a bit less mass than his kneeling friend, but was way more defined. His body hair also fell down entirely, leaving the new handsome hunk as smooth as his former best friend.

Both new men´s manhood stayed the same size though, which made them seem much smaller on their larger bodies. Marcus then looked at his two new servants. He was completely conscious he was their master and demanded their adoration, but also felt a deep bond to them. He was free to fornicate with whomever he wanted to, but these two were going to be forever bound to him, desperate for his love and addicted to his divine masculinity. As for the two men worshipping their new master, their sole purpose of existing was serving and pleasing this new god among men.

He then ordered the former Jordan to lay on the bed, and pushed the former Robert right next to him. Although it was his sexual debut, Marcus felt as if he had done this for all of eternity. He was ready to claim what was his and become the supreme being he was destined to be.

The students evacuated the hotel in panic, together with their professor and fellow guests. An unusually strong lightning bolt had stricken the small building, completely blowing up an entire corner. Three students were missing. Cries and sirens resonated through the night sky. The professor tried desperately to communicate with the local authorities, completely ignorant that the three students had disappeared forever.

 A car approached the ruins of the temple of Zeus. A giant figure then got out of the vehicle, accompanied by two large silhouettes that stayed behind. Marcus approached the center of the ruins. He was wearing a tight pair of black underpants, unable to find any other fitting clothes. Not that he needed to, his enormous body produced large amounts of heat, and still emitted a low shine highlighting him in the darkness. He had no need to hide. He was a gift to humanity, their savior. Anyone should feel blessed and humbled on his presence.

A lightning bolt fell directly in front of him, but the man stayed completely unfazed. Zeus appeared in front of him, still towering over the new Marcus, but seeming less than a giant next to the behemoth in front of him.

“You turned out very well. I was not mistaken in choosing you Marcus Laur.”

Said Zeus examining his perfect handiwork. He would say he was surprised by how well the job was made, but it was he who had done it, so it was only natural it was perfect. Marcus bowed in front of his creator and said with a respectful, but firm tone.

“Your words are my command my lord. What is it that I should do?”

Zeus´s stern face showed a glimpse of joy.

“I need you to be my envoy on this world, imprinting it with my will, which shall be your own. Humans are sheep, you shall be their shepherd. Come to the base of Mount Olympus. I shall put you through fearsome trials. Fear not though, with my power as your own you shall overcome them without problem.”

He then looked at the two muscular men standing right next to the car.

“I see you already got a taste of your powers. Good. You have two weeks to discover and reach your full potential. Do not fail.”

“Thank you, my lord. I shall not disappoint you.”

Marcus watched as lightning fell again, and Zeus disappeared. The golden eagle was already flying out of sight in the night sky. Zeus was very pleased with himself. He had many things in mind for his new toy. Not ever since meeting Ganymede had he felt an infatuation like this for a mortal, only this time he used his will to turn him into his ideal for true human beauty, and he imbued him with some of his divine power. His desire was going to burn the other competitors out of the way, thought the god of thunder. Marcus would become the Champion of Olympus.

[pinkoptics]

Would You Catch Me If I Fall?

aka Cherik Fallen Angel fic

Part 2 of Chapter 2

(Previous parts now on Ao3)

Erik is going to do everything he can to make sure Charles is taken care of. Charles saved his life. That’s why. Right… right???

*

“Mr. Olsen, I believe you will do exactly as I’ve asked.”

Mr. Olsen opened his mouth, to protest most likely, but Erik was well practiced in speaking in a way that left no room for interruption. “You will, because you are aware of the exact amount my firm has donated to your hospital this year and every other before it.”

Mr. Olsen was turning an interesting shade of red. It had nothing on Azazel, but the flush beneath his skin was making a concerted effort.

“You are also aware of what it would do to this hospital’s reputation for being at the forefront of mutant medicine if my firm were to very vocally withdraw its support and place it elsewhere, say... Johns Hopkins?”

“Mr. Lehnsherr—“ Still red, but now also sputtering. “You do not have the authority. Shaw would never—“

Erik smiled in such a way that Olsen cut himself off. Erik’s smile, though the word hardly applied, very early in his career had earned him the nickname ‘The Shark.’ Only used when he knew his prey was very much backed into a corner of their own making and it was time for the kill.

“If The Incident were to suddenly appear on social media again, with a narrative much closer to the truth...”

Red became purple. “We have an NDA! You can’t—“

“When information is out it is out, Mr. Olsen. Non-disclosures only hold weight if the parties involved care about the consequences. I could give a fuck. Besides, whether this hospital is guilty or innocent, reputations once ruined are terribly hard to salvage, aren’t they? Once, tried in the court of public opinion...”

“Shaw would— you’d be—“

Erik simply raised an eyebrow.

Olsen was right. Erik didn’t have the authority to stop donations, Shaw would have his job and his ass if he ever went to the public about any of the firm’s cases. Moreover, he would probably lose his license to practice. None of those things mattered however, not because Erik truly didn’t care, but because Olsen only needed to believe he was serious. If Erik couldn’t sense the man’s weaknesses, and couldn’t exploit them, he would hardly have been the best lawyer at his firm (no matter what Emma said to the contrary). The seed of doubt, once planted in a weak mind, was notoriously difficult to weed out.

“Fine,” Olsen ground out. Looking like he was very much sucking on a lemon.

Erik levitated the paperwork he had prepared by its staple. It was accompanied by one of the disgustingly expensive fountain pens the firm utilized to perpetuate its reputation. It hovered in front of the sour countenance and Erik felt the same sense of satisfaction he did after a particularly shrewd cross examination.

Threatening Olsen in this way was beyond overkill.

However, Erik knew of nothing else that would resolve Charles’ situation as swiftly. As Olsen scratched out his signature nearly hard enough to tear paper, Charles’ need for insurance, identity, and anything else he did not have, vanished.

Besides, he’d never liked this man or this hospital, so if he got to have a little fun while getting Charles what he needed, all the better. The faster he could get Charles out of here unscathed the better. He owed him that much, possibly more. There were few people insane enough, selfless enough, to throw themselves in front of a car for a stranger. Erik had made it his life’s work to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. Charles had more than earned that same protection until he was back to his former self.

T’s crossed and i’s dotted, Erik left Olsen to fume, so he could share the good news with Charles. The words that had been leaping forward died on his lips when he took in the state of Charles’ room.

“. . . Did you rob a florist?”

Charles graced him with a much less hysterical, much more pleasant sounding laugh than he had any time previously.

“Aren’t people just lovely? This one is from the nurse on call, Ben. He has the most adorable little boy. Teething at the moment, which is trying of course, but he’s so precious one can hardly be cross. I’m sure Ben would be happy to show you the photos too. This one is from Dr. Yousef, whom you’ve already met. She detests flowers, personally, as she’s never home consistently enough to care for them properly. This one is from Saima...”

While Charles no longer appeared to be in a state of hysteria, it appeared to be Erik’s turn, and he became suddenly, hysterically deaf. Had he misplaced a day? Or two? More? Was he the one with the head injury?

“Did you— I mean, do you know them?”

Charles cut off his still in-progress monologue about his sudden and inexplicable well-wishers.

“Oh no. We’ve just met. Nancy would like to get coffee when I’m better though. I believe that is a cultural expression of friendship, is it not? Or does coffee equal sex? It’s so hard to keep track of these things as humans rarely say what they truly mean. Why do you lot insist upon speaking in code? A code that changes every generation no less. Regardless, I’ve never had coffee. Given how utterly obsessed with it you all are I’m rather excited to find out what all the fuss is about.”

Erik didn’t know what part of that to address first, if at all.

Ben, Yousef, Saima... who the fuck was Nancy?

Sex?

Never had coffee?

“Oh Erik, I’m sorry. You look so confused again. I forget myself. I would much rather have coffee for the first time with you of course. At that diner you speak so highly of. I believe diners generally serve coffee.”

Erik blinked. Did that mean Charles wanted to be his friend or have sex with him? Or, did never having had coffee actually mean never having had sex? No. Wait. What in the fuck were they talking about?

What came out was, mercifully, “You make friends quickly.” This was something he and Charles certainly didn’t share.

“Do I?” Charles shrugged. “I love people. All people. They’re so fascinating.” Something else he and Charles certainly didn’t share. In his experience, most people were dull or cruel or both. Except Charles. Charles had been the exact opposite of dull or cruel right from the first. Crashing headfirst into Erik, literally and figuratively, and smashing all his expectations of what people did or didn’t do for one another. It might have also been the head injury/amnesia mitigating the dullness, making him say the most ridiculous things that Erik had ever heard and couldn’t even begin to sort out, but Erik didn’t really think so. He read people extremely well and Charles intrigued him. No one intrigued him.

Shoving the friends/coffee/sex equivalency conversation aside, Erik patted his briefcase. “I’ve sorted out everything with hospital administration. You won’t have to worry about insurance, bills... if there’s anything you need, just ask. They will be sure you get it.”

“I won’t ask how you managed it.” Charles’ look became conspiratorial. Almost as if he did know Erik’s methods. There was no way, of course, that he did unless he was a telepath, which Erik had already briefly mused on. “You really needn’t have troubled yourself, though I appreciate it, you, all the same.”

There it was again. The strange gravity his words seemed to possess. Erik flushed, not something he ever did, feeling that appreciation to his core. Charles’ smile deepened and somehow held the same weight as his words. Looking at it was almost too much, like looking straight at the sun, it warmed parts of Erik he hadn’t even realized were cold.

“You can stay with me,” Erik said, apropos of nothing, then flinched, his own words surprising him. It wasn’t the offer he had intended to make. The Firm put people up all the time for various reasons, and Erik had planned to slip Charles in to one of his current cases with no one the wiser. The doctor felt certain it wouldn’t be long until his memory returned, based on her previous experience of such cases.

Charles’ astonishment seemed to match his own. “Erik, that’s too much. You’ve done so much already.”

Erik rubbed at the back of neck, avoiding Charles’ eyes, which were comically, anime-wide. While he hadn’t meant to make the offer, he also found now that he had, he also had no sense of regret. His flat was large, he practically lived at the firm, so it would hardly be an inconvenience and the less he abused his position, the less tracks he had to cover.

He coughed, “There’s always Nancy.” Erik hoped the joke would break the sudden tension. “You could take her up on her ambiguous offer.” Charles laughed. Success.

“Coffee, and whatever else it may suggest, is a far cry from living together. Besides, I don’t even know Nancy.”

“You don’t know me either. You may have unwittingly saved a sociopath the world would be better without.”

Charles shook his head. “Don’t be absurd. You’re a good man, Erik. Better than you know.”

Everything about this was absurd.

“It’s settled then, when they discharge you, you can stay with me until we figure out who you are.”

Charles’ face, which Erik was already beginning to realize was nakedly expressive, came over suddenly unreadable.

“I—“ Charles hesitated, eyes flicking away from Erik to the window. Erik supposed coming to live with any stranger was enough to give anyone pause, especially someone who was as disoriented as Charles must already be. He was about to shift back to his original, much less awkward, plan when Charles’ gaze focused back on him. “All right. Until... until then.”

“Until then,” Erik echoed and they both fell suddenly silent.

He was inviting someone to live with him when he had never lived with anyone besides his mother his entire life. Roommates? Please. Erik had never had to, but would have rather lived in a squalid apartment than have to share a living space with anyone, even when putting himself through the extraordinary expenditure of american law school. Yet, here he was. Here they were. It felt right. Perhaps he had an overabundance of gratitude and quid pro quo to sate. It was the only thing that made any sense in the face of something that made absolutely no sense.

He’d probably regret it the instant Charles was in his space, but he also wasn’t someone who went back on his word, so he was taking in this stray whether he came to regret it or not.

Mama, at least, would approve.

*

Now on Ao3

Thanks for reading!!