#where angst reins supreme

[1dont-really-know]

A sort-of continuation to this! Set in the same day, about 8 hours apart :3

Tagging : @kitwasnothere @kdjmybeloved (feel free to tell me if you wanna be tagged :3)

Feat: Malva Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, mentioned Malleus Draconia and Maleanor Draconia

“Malva?”

Still nothing.

Lilia sighs. He has been standing in front of the princess’s door for a while now. Maybe ten, twenty minutes? Yet still, despite his efforts, not even a whisper has been heard in response. “Look, I know what I said was harsh, but can you please just come out here and talk to me? You're being incredibly childish.” Even worse yet, the door’s locked. Not just physically, but with an extra layer of magic as well. It’s flimsy, yes, but at the same time just so incredibly petty. 

He can’t believe he’s getting the silent treatment of all things. Lilia is used to temper tantrums; he’s used to Maleanor throwing her magic around to intimidate people into getting what she wants, and even though Malva had never been quite as bad as her sister was (as in, she refused to actually hurt people on purpose), she had had her fair share of tantrums as well.

That, Lilia suspects, is why it feels so foreboding.

Draconias know what they want and are not afraid to do what it takes to get it, often by destructive measures.

They are prideful.

They are demanding.

They are powerful. 

They are not silent. 

"Perhaps had you only used your Unique Magic, Maleanor wouldn't have died and neither of us would have had to go through this.” 

Guilt gnaws at Lilia, pushed down to the bottom of his heart by his pride. He knows what he says wasn’t true; that Malva would not have been able to stop Maleanor from sacrificing herself even if she had foreseen it happening. Yet still, she could have done more. 

He could have done more.

But the only thing they could do now is make the best out of what they have.

And… they have each other, don't they? 

She had stood up for him when the Senate had tried to take Malleus away from them, even if it changed little in the end. Even if their opinions differ on what they think is best for the little hatchling. Even if he’s pretty sure that she would have immediately ran off and left everything behind had Malleus not been a factor.

Lilia shook his head to rid himself of the thought. Malva has been nothing but a good aunt for Malleus. It was no use thinking of what could have been had he not been in the picture. He’s the only thing left that both Lilia and Malva have to protect together .

But it’s been getting to her. Even Lilia himself can tell. He’s noticed that the grief in Malva’s eyes has yet to fade even the slightest bit since the night Maleanor had died. He’s noticed the way she stares off into the distance when she thinks no one is looking. He’s noticed the way she’s been spending less and less time at the castle as Malleus ages.

He realized too late that the grief in her eyes that day was fresh.

It's part of what triggered their argument, really. With her demanding that he spend more time with Malleus while he actively watches her spend less and less time with him, Lilia had felt that Malva was nothing short of a hypocrite. Besides, he had a valid reason as to why he can't spend more time with him, as opposed to her, who's starting to distance herself out of her own free will.

Could he have stopped it? Was there a world where he could have saved her?

Still.

"Perhaps had you only used your Unique Magic, Maleanor wouldn't have died and neither of us would have had to go through this.” 

“I'm giving you until the count of three.”

Even if so, Lilia knew that he'd be lying to himself if he said that his words didn't cross a line.

“One.”

And he saw firsthand how much Maleanor's death affected her.

“Two.”

He shouldn't have said what he did. That's why he's here now; to apologize to her. He just needs her to open the door and talk to him. Just that one tiny thing. 

“Three.”

Nothing.

No response.

Lilia pushes down the feeling of disappointment in his chest. He should have known that wouldn't work. 

“You're really not making it easy for either of us, are you?”

It only took a second; a mere moment for him to unlock the door and step inside.

He should've known something was wrong.

Malva’s room is dark when he enters. Lilia wonders briefly how the plants that reside inside could ever get the sunlight they needed with Malva’s schedule, but the said plants looked just fine. The vines that crawl around her windows are a vibrant green, and so are the ferns and bushes she keeps in pots near her bed. Well cared for, even with the things she apparently has to go through.

For a moment, there doesn't seem to be anyone inside, but then Lilia notices a shape on the floor. He rolls his eyes, approaching Malva where she lays on her side next to her desk. The remains of what must be her latest experiment lays on top of the oaken furniture, branches from a bush with some shiny black berries still attached, a piece of paper with her handwriting on it next to them. The leaves are gone, presumably to make a potion or another. Perhaps a stealth potion, to help her sneak out more? He can't really feel her magic right now, even from this distance. She's probably sulking because she wanted it to do more than just hide her magic.

Once he reaches her, Lilia kneels down and places his hand on her arm, mildly annoyed, “Malva, come on now. You can't just keep–”

Lilia freezes. The moment his hand made contact with hers, it felt like the air was being sucked right out of his lungs. A horrifying realization dawns upon him, creeping up his spine and suffocating him with dread.

Malva’s cold. Unnaturally cold.

This… this can't be real, right? It's probably just a side effect of whatever it was she was making. Yes, that has to be it. Lilia grabs Malva’s wrist and tries not to think too much about how hard it is to move it from its position, checking (searching) for a heartbeat, and when that doesn't work, he presses his fingers against her neck’s pulse point and hopes desperately to feel something there instead.

He doesn’t. It takes him a second to realize that. His hands are trembling so badly that he gave himself false hope more than once in the span of a single minute.

He squeezes her hand, using his other one to carefully try to shake her awake, his efforts quickly becoming more panicked and desperate as second after second passes by without a single shred of response. “Malva.” He calls her name, the tremble of his hands making its way to his voice, “Malva, this isn't funny. I know you're angry at me, but this isn't how to resolve this. Come on.”

Her eyes, half open and glazed over, just continue to stare forwards at nothing at all. There was no hint of life to be seen there. No emotion, no reaction; nothing. 

Lilia looks frantically around the room from where he kneels, trying to find something– anything that could help. Malva’s a healer, so she'd have things that would help in situations like these, right? But what had caused this? She couldn't have just dropped like this; there had to be a reason. She was fine just a few hours ago. She was fine before their argument. She was fine before…

The plant with the shiny black berries on the table. The missing leaves and bits of dug-up roots.

The note in her handwriting.

It felt like ice was coursing through Lilia’s veins. 

“GUARDS!”

He can hear footsteps rapidly approaching, and with his vision starting to blur, Lilia looks down at Malva and gives her hand another squeeze, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, “just hold on, alright? Just hold on. Help is on their way, and you'll be–” alright? Fine? Safe? What word is there in any language that could make sense with her current condition?

He can't even get himself to finish his sentence.

He just needs her to be alright.

He never got a chance to apologize to her.

[glassartpeasants]

Happier

Tomura Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, fluff in a way?

A/N: Unedited af cause my computer was fighting with me, Also contains spoilers

~~~

Arguing was a daily occurrence now. Not a day goes by without an argument. It was like second nature at this point. Wake up, argue throughout the entire day, then go back to bed to only repeat the same cycle over and over again. You didn't know what to do. Even if you tried to avoid him, there was always something that he brought up. You'll admit, sometimes you wondered if he even liked you with all the vile things he'd say to you. So you just did your best to dream of a time when you guys were talking instead of fighting.

~~~

Silence. You never thought you would enjoy it as much as you were now. You were lying down on the rooftop of the base and looking at the stars. The only sound that rang through your ears was the sound of your own heartbeat. It would have been pitch black if it weren't for the stars in the sky. It was so calming, so different. You finally felt at peace, knowing nothing could ruin such a moment.

While looking at the stars, a feeling raised in your chest, and a thought entered your mind. Sure, you thought about such a thing before, but why now did it cause such a pain in your chest? Maybe cause you finally knew what you had to do and that waiting any longer will only cause the pain to get worse. Plus, there's no reason to stay when all he does is say how much he doesn't need you. How he wished he'd never met you.

All the wasted nights crying and going to bed angry were not worth it anymore. The dark circles under your eyes and small white hairs appeared in your hair. You weren't trying to age any faster, and you were for sure weren't about to waste the rest of your life with a man who doesn't love you.

Standing up, you looked at the stars and took a deep breath asking them for luck before leaving. The sounds of your footsteps made your heart beat faster, knowing that what you were about to do could change the course of your life for the better. Sighing, you grab your phone and shoot him a text telling him to meet you at the park where you guys first met. You could feel your eyes water remembering such a time when you were so much happier.

"What are you doing here by yourself?" You asked the man sitting on the swing.

"Why aren't you running in fear? Calling the cops? I know you saw what I look like and who I am." His gravelly voice only made you chuckle as you sat next to him on the other swing.

"So you did see me checking you out? Was it that obvious?"

"Checking me out?"

"Of course, silly! If I really wanted to call the cops, wouldn't they be here by now? Plus, I say me and you have much in common." You could see his eyes widen at your words. You smile at his reaction.

"What could me and you have in common?"

"Well, I suppose we share the same views. It's nice to see someone actually voice what's truly wrong with hero society. So many people are brainwashed into thinking that they can do no wrong. It's sad as it is sickening." For once, Shigaraki Tomura had felt something other than hatred in his chest as he listened to your words.

"Not to mention how brave it was to attack USJ. You are the first person to even pull such a stunt. It's admirable, really."

He didn't know what to say. He was so shocked to find someone who shared the same views as him and not Stains. Not to mention how you praised him, telling him how you were impressed. He was never told such things by anyone other than his master. So, for someone as breathtaking as you to say you were impressed and admired him, it gave him newfound confidence to crush the hero society. He would make a world where villains reined supreme and maybe, just maybe, with you by his side.

You sat at the same swing you did so long ago. Hearing his footsteps come up from behind you made you tense, but you quickly collected yourself. He sat at the same swing he did as well before looking at you with a scowl on his face.

"What do you want, and why did you text me to come here?" His voice snapped at you. At the moment, you thought about backing out, but you knew you couldn't now. It was now or never.

"I think we should break up." Those words felt like venom coming out of your mouth. Despite how much shit he's done, you still loved him deep down in your heart. You'll admit, you weren't no saint either. When you guys would fight, both of you would say shit that you knew would hurt the other person. You didn't want to be that person anymore. You didn't want to be the person who brought up bad things from a person's past. You wanted change. Even if said change meant leaving who you felt like was the love of your life.

"What?"

"I said I think we should break up." It was quiet. Too quiet. You could hear a pin drop even if you were in the bustling city.

"What, did you change your mind on how you view hero society? Typical should have expected it from you. Stupid of me to think anybody would understand." You felt rage bottle up inside of you. Did he really not see what a shit show your relationship had turned into? Did he really jump into blaming you for something you both had equally participated in?

"You saying shit like that is the reason why Shigaraki. We can't even have a normal conversation anymore that doesn't include fighting or-"

"-Or what?"

"That exactly! Interrupting one another. Talking over the other! We can't even sit in the same room together without one of us picking a fight! I know I'm no saint. I know that I have done shit wrong. Despite me still hating hero society and still agreeing with your views, I just can't do it anymore. I can't let myself turn into someone that I don't recognize." You stood up from the swing. You clutched your fists as tears started to spill from your eyes.

"You sound so pathetic! If you really agreed with my views, you'd know that there is no room in this society that allows people with such shitty morals to have a fun life. Or hell a life at all!" You could hear him going on and on. Your fists were shaking as you struggled not to turn back and scream at him, but you just wanted to get it over with, and then maybe finally would you be able to sleep well at night.

"Despite what you think of me or say of me, I'm not listening to it. I'm tired of the arguing, the sleepless nights, and the fear I feel when you leave for days on a mission and not text me." Your voice turned shaky as the sound of your sobs could finally be heard.

"I love you. I love you so fucking much Shigaraki. So much that there's not enough stars in the sky to explain how deep my love is for you. It's you who I want to wake up next to every morning. It's you who I want to spend the rest of my life with. Even after this, I will never stop loving you. I'll love you till the day I die, but I can't do this anymore." You turn around and start walking towards the bright street lights.

"Goodbye Shigaraki. I hope your dream comes true. I believe in you." You turn around and send him a smile before walking down the street and away from his view.

He watched you leave his view. Watched as the swing you were just sitting on finally come to a halt before it finally hit him. The emotions he was so desperately trying to hide came over him like a wave. He grabbed his chest at where his heart should be before letting out a cry of anguish.

He fell off the swing and to his knees before tears streamed down his face. His whole body was shaking as his sobs rang through his ears. It hurt so fucking much. He's never felt this type of hurt since the incident so many years ago. Now, once again, he was all alone.

He was angry with himself. Why did he have to say that? Maybe if he would have tried to be understanding you might still be in his life but no. His pride got the best of him and said things he truly didn't mean. He just said it in the heat of the moment. He didn't know how to diffuse a situation. He didn't know how to communicate properly. And now thanks to that, he ruined another good thing in his life.

Even if he didn't say it much, he loved you too. He loved you so much that would die for you. He wanted to wake up every morning knowing that you were proud to call him yours. You were the one he wanted by his side as he took down hero society. You were his everything, and now, he couldn't tell you how much you truly meant to him. And knowing that, only made him cry harder.

~~~

It was hard the first few months. You thought the sleepless night would stop after you left, but now, you'd cry yourself to sleep. Despite desperately trying to move on with your life, you just couldn't find a way to get over him. Everything only seemed to remind you of him. From walking by happy couples to looking at videos on the internet. It didn't help that most of the shows on tv revolved around him. Talking about what his next attack was or would be.

You would be lying if you said you didn't watch them. It wasn't healthy in the slightest but you couldn't help but worry. You still loved him after all, you wanted to know that he was okay.

When video footage of him would come out of him attacking a hero, he didn't even seem bothered by the fact that you weren't alongside him. Of course, you knew that he wouldn't let things like that get him unfocused from his missions. Besides, he seemed more calculated than when you were with him. Like he was focused more. In every fight with a hero that's come crossed him, he always managed to win, even if that meant the hero losing their life or being wounded to the point that they couldn't raise an arm.

You were so proud of him. From an impulsive man going into battle without thinking, to someone who plans his next decision carefully. He's grown so much in the past few months. He's even managed to take down the Shie Hassakai leader and quite literally took the only way to use his quirk. He's even grown a sense of style and ditched the ragged black clothes that he use to wear. He was still beautiful in your eyes, no matter what he wore and nothing could change that.

~~~

You've never left his mind since that day. No matter what, his mind would always race back to you. It didn't help how you left things in his room when you broke up with him. When he figured out that you left some clothes in his room, he slept with a shirt that you always wore since it was your favorite. It still after all these months, had your scent on it. While he was looking around the shared room, he noticed something peeking out from under the bed. Once he grabbed it, it felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

It was a picture of you and him. He remembered when you took this picture even. You guys decided to go to an arcade for a celebration of a mission that went well. You took this picture after he had just won a game that allowed you to get the giant stuffie on the top shelf. In your excitement, you pulled out your phone and took a picture of you both, and at the last minute, you kissed his cheek.

He didn't know where you got this printed but he wasn't complaining. He took out the picture carefully before folding it up and putting it in his pocket. Now, you would be with him everywhere he went. You would always be by his side cheering him on.

He would do it all for you no matter what he did now. Even if you didn't know it, he would make you proud and maybe be able to forgive himself for not telling you how much you meant to him.

~~~

The war was all anyone could think about. Worrying about all the heroes who were sacrificing their lives. Worrying about what could happen if the villains truly won. Cries of fear could be heard when people realized how much the heroes were truly up against.

But all you could do was cheer them on.

You watched as they destroyed everything in their path and showed the hero societies' true colors. Showing them that secrets are never hidden and will always come out. You cried tears of joy when you saw them standing tall and proud.

All of them gave it their all and showed society how they failed. Showing them that they were more than just villains. Showing that even if hero society failed them, they will always have a found family.

You could even remember jumping off the couch when you saw him.

Even after everything he's been through, he's still managing to stand tall. He's worked hard to get where he is and it all payed off.

Watching as the news revealed that the heroes had fled. That they couldn't defeat the bad guys. That hero society isn't as strong as the brainwashed people were lead to believe.

You could feel tears well in your eyes as you saw Shigaraki standing tall. Victorious, knowing that it had all payed off. And in that moment, a smile reached your face as you looked at the TV.

"I always knew you could do it. I love you so much Tomura." you turn off the tv before heading to your bedroom, not before looking out the window.

"And I'm so proud of you."

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part III)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

Summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: It will take more than a betrayal and blood blath for the reader to stop protecting those who really need it.

Words count: 4.7k

I knew things were going to go from bad to worse when we returned to Paradis; but I never imagined that I would have a letter from the Supreme Commander on my desk. Days had passed since my fiasco conversation with Eren, spreading the word of my insubordination towards the lack of notification to the respective authorities. Sure, the guards had let me into the cell just because they knew me, but I never had the decency to tell Hange-san or even ask for a meeting with the Supreme Commander.

And here I was. Wrapped up in a much bigger shit roll since I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps, with a simple letter demanding my presence in his office for a little "talk."

The medical center where I could do my practices with ease was quite far from the justice’s court where the Supreme Commander was, having to go out to ride through the beautifully paved streets. A street I crossed, a street I saw citizens read the newspapers that had brought so much catastrophe to peace within the walls. People were revolting against the militancy, demanding Eren's immediate release, praising he was the only one who could lead Eldia to its ultimate glory.

If they could heard themself right now. They spoke as if Paradis itself had become an empire, a power on the verge of attacking and taking every country under its feet. It was as if they wanted to turn the game around, to be us the empire and our enemies the war slaves.

I was still far from my destination, but the crowd could be seen cowering above the barred court doors. Men and women with posters screaming without sense or unity, an angry mob demanding explanations, ready to use violence to make their way into the hierarchy.

I got off my horse when I faced the crowd, needing to get up front and through the secured gate and with my loyal traveling companion I wasn't going to make it. I left him tied up outside a local, asking the owner to take care of him, if necessary, I would give him a monetary compensation on my returned.

I tried to get through the mob, asking permission, even nudging some people, but no matter how hard I tried to take a step forward, there was always a bastard blocking my way or pulling me back; They even had the decency to grab my coat and throw me off.

"Excuse me, but I need to pass"

Empty words at this situation. If they didn’t listen to the specialized people of the militancy, it was obvious that they wouldn’t listen to me, a simple doctor in practice for the legion.

"Free the leader of the Eldian empire"

"Free Eren Jaeger"

"Give us some damn answer"

"Fuck off you cheap bitch"

The day wasn’t even beginning and I was already receiving hateful comments, typical of closed minds.

I looked around for a solution, I was wasting valuable time and starting to get irritated. If I was late for my meeting with the Supreme Commander, who knows what punishment he would give me apart from my insubordination.

Besides of the mob there wasn’t much more than a few elegant houses and shops, no other entrance except the one in the backyard, but to get there, I would have to go all the way around the building and it would take much longer. The walls were too high to jump alone and too smooth to climb, otherwise enough people would have sneaked in by now.

I turned my head towards my horse, which was still in the same position where I left him, patiently awaiting my return. Surely what I was about to do wasn’t going to please him one bit.

I ran as fast as I could and unhooked him from the wooden post, ignoring the comments of the owner of the premises who was indisputably claiming for his pay. Without turning my head to such scum, I motioned for the horse to turn around and run down the avenue, against the crowd. Being at a considered distance, I again instructed him to turn around and go as fast as he could.

"I'm sorry Phillip, you're going to have to forgive me for what I'm going to do"

We were a few meters from the mob, mentally preparing myself for the feat that was about to be accomplished. Almost arriving, about to impact, I gave him a little jerk to the right, guiding us towards the wall, and raised my legs towards his back, squatting against him, waiting for the right moment and the impulse he would give when braking hard.

When he was about to slam his trunk against the wall, Phillip stopped his galloping, propelling me forward and flying toward one of the door columns. I grabbed the stone as best I could, avoiding falling on my backside, and raised my legs towards the top, finally reaching my goal. Being already on top and looking at the terrified faces of the rebels, I went down to the other side of the door, slightly hurting my feet and hands in the fall.

"That was quite a show"

Hitch was already in front of me, malicious and proud on her face. She was giving a few applause to the air, trying to lift the spirits of the people of the military squad, even if her acting was a bit cocky.

"Desperate situations call for desperate measures." I waved my hands over the coat, looking at her with the same smug visage she was giving me.

I didn't like Hitch per se, but we weren't friends either. The way she acted and talked gave me bad vibes and I planned to stay as neutral as possible in her presence. Even her gazes seemed to want to pierce the soul of whoever she was speaking to, as if she wanted to undress you internally and seek your darkest and most shameful secrets. I would stick my hands in the fire by assuming that in her younger years she had been a bully or a blackmailer.

But it was better to keep those thoughts for yourself, before generating greater repercussions in the times that hugged us.

"Did you come to see Armin and Mikasa?"

Any thoughts I had of her dissipated.

"They ... are they here?"

I was fuzzy. Not because of the fact that I was uninformed about their actions when they left the legion barracks in the morning, which I was getting used to since last year, but because they were in the same place as me. What a coincidence.

To be honest, the two of them never owed me anything and it wasn't their duty to tell me where they were going every minute of the day, just like Hange. Each one of us had their own will to go where we were sung; But if the three of us were in court, and if they gave me the chance to guess, I would say that to see the Supreme Commander, it made me a bit suspicious.

"Yes, they are talking to the Supreme Commander to try to go talk to Eren"

I must have hit my head at some point in the battle of Marley, because lately every occurrence was quite impossible to believe. They were the ones who asked me to go talk to him a few days ago, they were the ones who questioned me when I returned to the waiting room where the few survivors of 104° Squad were;it was them who gave me a compassionate look as they saw I hadn’t accomplished much and I had ended any relationship that bound me with Eren.

And now here they were, demanding an audience with their childhood friend, while I would have to be judged for the same action. Something wasn’t fitting. I looked around trying to find them, or maybe to find an answer to the thousands of questions that were forming in my head, and finding no help, I turned to Hitch.

"What is going on? Why-"

Before I could finish my question, an explosion rumbled across the cobblestone floor, hurting our ears and knocking us to the ground. Fire and debris couldn’t only be seen in the air but also smelled, flooding our nostrils, causing us to cough and cover our eyes with debris.

I looked up to find a flare coming from one of the court offices and a heavy body falling in our direction. I couldn't make it out until it fell to the ground, leaving a stain of blood and ash around it, apart from leaving a trail of smoke from where it flew off. My eyes were opened with shock and amazement, since the person in front of me was nothing more and nothing less than the same militant leader, half of the body lost and burned by the explosion.

"Well ... that's new"

In all my years of service I have seen every horror inside and outside the walls. True, even the Survey Corps had acted against the law, but it was for the greater good, to expose the bastards who lived on the wall farthest from the sea. I had seen people hit and kick another for a piece of food when the wall Maria fell. I had seen how we were massacred one by one with bullets to the head as we tried to go beyond the walls.

But never in those years I had seen a rebellion like the one taking place, being willing to eliminate such an authoritarian figure as Darius Zackly.

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The chaos went unnoticed by a large part of the population, only those who were present at the time of the explosion and the military police were aware. Faced with such an atrocious event of treason, a small meeting was convened involving the most important heads of each faction; unfortunately I couldn’t be there, my presence had been required in a clinic a few meters from the court. There were quite a few injured.

Some had mild and harmless burns, others had large parts of the body with third degree burns. Some had splinters stuck in their arms and faces, some had a piece of wood stuck in their stomach.

A couple of hours had passed which seemed like weeks to me. I had been assigned the milder cases, but as I pulled the splinters out of a patient's eyes, I had the countless howls of people echoing in my head, listening as they took their last painful breaths. People who asked to die on purpose to ease the pain.

Hours passed and welcomed the next day. I had terrible black circles under my tired eyes, hands stained with dried blood and splintered; they’re fucked up and I needed to heal them as quickly as possible before they got infected. I grabbed the cutting tools and placed them on a metal tray, the cold of the surface soothing the pain in my hands, and although it wasn’t too heavy I felt like it trembled on my grip.

I heard the door open wide at the other side of my last patient's room, the front door, letting in multiple heavy footsteps on the hardwood floor. Apparently, the soldier who had entered was in a hurry or was about to deliver terrible news...I wish I had been wrong in the second option.

"Bad news, Eren Jaeger has escaped from the underground cell"

I dropped the metal tray on my feet, making the sound of metal and utensils rumble across the room. My hands were shaking even more and surely if I saw myself in a mirror I would see my face completely pale.

"If you want to free yourself from this cell, go ahead"

My words invaded my mind like a bucket of cold water, as if they wanted to make me see that I was to blame for his escape. I knew that sooner or later he’s going to free himself, his eyes showed it and by not getting an answer that contrasted with mine, it was perfect evidence of his plans. But even knowing it, even Hange knowing it, I didn't expect him to do it in a moment of such betrayal.

I cleaned my hands as best I could with a towel hanging over the room sink and grabbed my coat, rushing out of the clinic.

"I’m sorry, I need to go"

But where to go was the question. I had no idea where Eren might be, and even if I knew what he was going to win, surely he was with his followers and with the simple image of me approaching from the horizon, I would be dead in a matter of seconds ... or imprisoned, whatever happen first.

At the exit of the clinic, there were two soldiers of the military police standing guard and watching the justice’s court from the distance. I approached them with the intention of asking them about the whereabouts of the Survey Corps, but they looked at me like I had the plague and pushed me aside hostilely, almost knocking me to the ground. I kept my composure as best I could and looked for someone else to ask; I didn’t have to wait long, since a woman of my age with mahogany hair, extremely black and matted, pointed the way where my comareds had gone. According to her words, they’re heading towards a large and luxurious building in the middle of one of the main avenues, recognizing the word restaurant from the conversation between the riders.

The only place that matched that description was the restaurant where Nicolo worked.

I hurried out with Phillip galloping through people, avoiding stepping on them and apologizing on my back. If there was something clear to me in all this mess, it was that Hange would go to find answers among the working Marleyans of that place. Maybe something could be solved.

I was very wrong.

I rushed into the building, finding only a long entrance hall and a corridor that led to god knows where. No one was even around to see me panic and I didn't see a soul nearby either, the only thing if I could hear a heated discussion far away and heavy footsteps on the floor. I let myself be guided by the sound, running back to its origins and finding a bizarre and meaningless scene in front of my eyes.

The room that seemed to be the main one hosted the orphaned children of the Blouse farm as well as Sasha's parents, sad and anguished parents if I paid better attention. The children were just as sad, with tears in their eyes, especially Kaya; they were crying the same way as on the day Sasha's death was reported. They were cornered under a window all together, hugging each other and letting the rays of the sun streaming through the window illuminate their figures, as if those rays could replace the heat that Sasha had left behind.

That scene broke my still fragile heart. I would have liked to reach out to them and try to help them move on, as I would have liked to stay on the farm with them when we came back from Marley to help them get by; obviously I could never have replaced Sasha and they could never have replaced my family, but in these times of battle, what mattered most was healing the wounds between all of us.

I would have liked to talk to them, but my eyes shifted from the Blouse family to the figure of Hange carefully placing a child on the floor. The blond boy was very badly injured on the side of his head, he was bleeding and his clothes had stuck to his body due to the large amount of liquid that had flowed down his torso.

"Hange-san, Wha-" As I stared at the blond boy on the floor, I could see that he was one of the children who had sneaked into our war balloon.

“Isn't that one of the Marleyan children? Why is he here and why is he bleeding?"

Unconsciously my body leaned forward, resting on one knee on the ground and reaching out to the boy. My instincts as a doctor were screaming for me to tend to the poor injured boy regardless of his race and I was willing to do so.

"We will take care of him, go to the room continue with Mikasa and Armin"

I got up without hesitation, taking one last look at the room I was in and it was just at that moment that I recognized Nicolo and Jean in a corner away from everyone else. They both looked very distressed, but I didn't have the opportunity to ask why, they had given me an order and I had to carry it out. I would have to wait until got back to base to understand this terrible situation.

The room they sent me to was at the end of the corridor, the door was closed but every step I took I could hear the soft voices of Mikasa and Armin, apparently talking to someone else. Well, that conversation must have to get a pause because I was about to slam the door in and leave the doors wide open.

“What the hell is going on? Why is a Marleyan child unconscious in the kitchen?"

Upon entering, all excited, my eyes only saw the figures of Armin and Mikasa around a table. They both looked up at me in disbelief when they saw me standing on the threshold. For the second time that day, I looked back across the stage in front of me and spotted a small brown-haired figure sitting at the same table. With a little more attention, I saw that the small figure was trembling, perhaps from fear or from adrenaline, at the same time that its face was bruised and full of blood; and putting all my attention on that bloody face I realized that I recognized those eyes, those same eyes that I had looked at with contempt and had looked back at me with the same feeling the night of the invasion.

The missing girl from the Marleyan duo was sitting across from me staring with sheep's eyes.

All exaltation I had in my body dissipated, my gaze fell, leaving nothing more than a neutral countenance. But ... anyone who could see through my eyes, would know they reflected the fatigue and sadness of several accumulated days. Seeing the girl was perhaps a way of attaching all the harmful feelings in a single part of my body.

I let out a long sigh and closed the door slowly behind me. I walked slowly towards where the girl was, running Mikasa to the side and looked at her with the best possible adult countenance. She had a red nose, it looked like it had been hit right on her septum causing her to bleed and stain her dress, which I assumed was courtesy of the Blouse family. Her cheek was scratched and red too, traces of broken and inflamed skin could be seen around her wound, but without any bleeding. This girl would have a swollen face the next day if we don't give her some ice.

“You’re hurt. Care to explain me what happened?"

I reached my hand out to her, but was greeted with a flinch from her. I could tell she was scared and she had every right to be.Either way, way I brought my hand to her face, placing my index finger and thumb on her jaw to move her head and look for other injuries.

Her face was the one that received the most impact, nothing in her eyes which was a very good sign, and I didn’t notice any kind of fracture in the bones of her cheek or septum. Good. I looked around the room for something I could use, but I only found empty tables adorned with a classic tablecloth and a very well elaborated and cared wine cellar, apart from showing off one of the best wine collections in recent years.

"Armin, can you go get some alcohol to disinfect the wounds? Surely they have something in the kitchen "

The blonde gave me a slight nod and left the room, leaving me alone with Mikasa, who was absolved of the situation, but still maintaining an imposing posture. The girl was still shaking on my hand, so I pushed her away and inspected her body for more injuries.

The palms of her hands were stained with blood, I guessed from the bleeding from her nose, but they also had some slight scratches, perhaps she had fallen to the floor. Her dress didn’t seem torn in the area of ​​the knees, so I assumed that they weren’t injured or it was a very slight scratch, almost no bleeding. Her arms seemed intact as did her torso. I turned to the back of her head, running her hair gently trying to find any trace of blow that could generate a contusion. I didn’t find anything that could be fatal or serious, but I did see something that caught my attention.

“You have marks on your head, diffuse, but they are there. What happened?"

"... A horse bit me"

Of all the situations that could have led to those brands, I didn't expect to hear this one. I didn’t expect it, not at all. It caught me off guard and I let out a giggle which I covered with the back of my hand.

"Sorry, shouldn't laugh… you deserve it thou" I gave her a little pat on the top of her head before ruffling it a bit and bending down to look into her eyes.

Armin returned to the room, alcohol in hand and a clean cloth. Thank God something was clean in this whole city, I was beginning to lose my faith in the cleanliness of this people. I reached for the items and I proceeded to apply a large amount of alcohol to the cloth and apply it first to the frightened girl's cheek.

"Why are you so good to me? I killed a one of your friends"

That comment made me stop for a second, just like I stopped looking at her wound. My gaze fell to the floor in search of an answer; I searched, searched and searched for answers to questions that didn’t have one or weren’t as simple as they seemed...or simply looked in the wrong places and the answers were always in my mind, only that my heart wasn’t prepared to face them.

"The girl you killed the night of the invasion was called Sasha Blouse and she was the best archer and sniper of the legion"

I turned my gaze to her, continuing to heal her wound on her cheek. When I saw that there was only a small pink stain left on the surface, I moistened the cloth further with alcohol and ran it under her nose, removing any trace of blood. The girl pulled back a bit when she felt it’s smell her nostrils and I had the opportunity to cover her nose for a few seconds to stop the bleeding.

"You know ... you remind me of a boy exactly like you"

When I saw that the bleeding stopped and the girl stopped moving due to the burning and itching that the alcohol was surely causing, I grabbed her hands and began to clean them with small touches avoiding tearing her skin.

“Just as intense and ready to fight for what he thinks is fair. You are just a little girl who was taught that we were the bad guys. It’s the way you were raised, the way you see the world. They taught us something else, but at the end of the day, apart from everything... we are the same"

It hurt. Yes, it hurt to see the one guilty of the death of my best friend, but it hurt more to see in her eyes the hatred and contempt they had taught her towards our race. The hate cycle we were getting into wasn't going to get us anywhere and it was better to nip it in the bud, even with baby steps.

When I finished cleaning all her wounds, I put the cloth on the table and looked at my performance with deep pride. It wasn't much, but it was enough; Not only had I cleaned a few simple wounds, but perhaps, I wished that perhaps, it would begin to heal her mind ... and mine as well.

I got up heavily, noticing how my knees creaked when squatting for a long time and I stretched my body generating more crunches, but noting at the same time how the heaviness of my back left and leave behind a much lighter load.

“Very good, you’ve been a good patient. Surely there is something sweet in the kitchen that I can give you” I patted her head again and gave her a sincere smile, one that I hadn't given anyone for quite a while. I headed to the door unconcerned about the situation I assumed was still going on in the main room.

"What's going to happen to Eren Jaeger?"

What will happen to him? And why does she ask me that?

"Don't worry, I'm not letting him put a finger on you" A sincere answer to a question asked out of fear. I reached the door and in the middle of the sentence I turned the knob wanting to make my way into the hall, but a tall figure blocked my way.

Eren was right on the threshold with the intention of opening it.

Well mark me impress

My body jerked back instinctively, avoiding taking my eyes off his. I moved to the right side, avoiding the figure of the Marleyan girl from being in Eren's point of view. I didn't know why he was here or if the others knew about it, but whatever the reason, he surely wasn’t alone and this wasn’t going to lead to anything good.

"Sit down"

He took a few steps forward, closing the door with his foot, not even paying attention to his surroundings, or maybe yes, now everything was a confusion when it came to the brunette in front of us.

"You can't tell me what to do" I planted myself in front of him, without taking a step back. We were both facing each other, him carrying me several inches tall, several dominating inches that made my legs shake and my heart race.

If it had been in any other situation, that trembling, that acceleration would have been very well received. It was impossible not to feel small next to Eren, the damn bastard had hit a big stretch and there was a great difference around the body between the two, a difference that I always loved to admire.

But not now. Not at this moment when everything was going to shit and I had to stand up to the figure of a little girl who was internally dying of fear thanks to him.

"Sit. Down"

Few centimeters separated us from each other, his chest too close to mine, I could feel how it swelled with each breath. He raised his hand to my face, letting me see his cut palm and dripping blood. Fear took hold of me, making me stand even more in my position, but I wasn’t going to give in so easily.

"You wouldn't" I looked him in the eye, defiant, longed for and everything in between.

"Try me"

It was all he said before grabbing onto my shoulders and pulling me back. My body collided with the table and instinctively I placed my hands on it. I heard how Armin and Mikasa tried to get closer to where we were, but a single glance from Eren made them stay still, submissive, as they lost in their positions. His gaze returned to mine. My breath hitched and I had to avoid with all my might thinking about the position we were entwined.

It wasn’t the time to think about how my hips were slightly elevated, just my butt up on the table and one leg dangling, his knee between my legs, preventing me from closing them and keeping the leg that was hanging in the air. His gaze wandered between our bodies and he returned to my eyes. He tightened his grip on my shoulders and pushed me to the side of the table, dropping me onto the chair next to the girl.

"I said. Sit. Down"

He took his hands off my shoulders, took the seat next to me and Armin and Mikasa sat with him, leaving an air of discomfort and tension in the environment.

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[otonymous]

Prisoner Of Love (Ikesen Kenshin - NSFW)

Description: Can two victims of circumstance find their way to love? Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for the first half of Kenshin’s MS.  Potential trigger warnings: angst, imprisonment, mild mentions of injuries, self-harm and death, self-loathing, anxiety, possessiveness (it IS Kenshin after all 🤣), slight dub-con elements, profanity, vaginal intercourse, squirting Word Count: ~3100 words (~17 minutes of angst and smut) Author’s Notes: Sending out a super giant thank you to the incredibly kind and gracious @azuchi-princess​ for commissioning this Kenshin piece from me.  I cannot tell you how honoured I am to have been entrusted with writing for your husbando! 🥰💕 It was an absolutely wonderful process working with you, and I’m so glad to have been able to indulge in my need for angst and smut at the same time!

(SPOILER ALERT!) This story takes place shortly after Kenshin has MC (read: YOU!) placed behind bars as his “spoils of war,” but I have taken creative license in altering the events that occur afterwards.  Moreover, the perspective shifts between that of the reader’s and Kenshin’s in the hopes of delivering that optimal punch of angst 👊🏼🤣

Please note the warnings listed above — especially the potential triggers — and avoid this read if anything makes you uncomfortable.  Otherwise, dear readers, I sincerely hope that you enjoy this piece! 💕

Chapter I (Kenshin’s POV)

Betrayal.

Cutting deeper than the sharpest blade.

Unforgiving like Himetsuru-Ichimonji, severing the red string of fate as quickly as it is drawn from its scabbard.

So why was it that Kenshin still couldn’t bring himself to hate her?

Footsteps echoing along stone walls in the bowels of Kasugayama Castle — the very place where he had her cast behind bars — Kenshin wanders, trapped in a hell from which there was no escape.

For the confines of the mind were impervious to even the God of War’s sharpened steel.

And in between each beat of his thunderous heart, he hears her: gentle tears rolling down that delicate face to fall on packed earth, the ground’s inhospitable chill reaching up through limbs to rob even the final vestiges of warmth from bone.  Her every shuddering breath is a weight upon his chest, suffocating until Kenshin clings to the reins of reason holding him back from storming her cell like a madman, animated solely by the fire commanding him to see, to touch…

…to love her.

Hands clenching into tight fists, Kenshin’s knuckles blanch whiter than his already pale skin when he slows to a stop.  Round the corner and there she’ll be.

Woman of the Oda.  The Devil King’s own.

She, who had lied in the same breath that commiserated with him as they waited for Sasuke’s return.  She, whose tears left him dazzled, catching the light of the fire like precious stones even as their salt stung, seeping into his open wounds.  She, who had held his hand within her own, caring not about sullying her perfect skin with his tainted blood.

Because tainted is what he is.  It is what he deserves.

And yet, he can’t help but see the moonlight in her gaze, shimmering like a spectre every time he closes his eyes.  Can’t stop himself from desiring the tender warmth of her smile.  Still wonders at her fearless bravado in the face of a man who brought nothing but death and destruction upon friend and foe alike.

Isehime.

No.

No, he will not see her, Kenshin thinks, gaze frosting over as he wills the ice in his veins to freeze a heart he no longer wanted to feel.  He walks away, forcing himself to believe that the sound of her sorrow growing faint was nothing more than mice in the walls.

Chapter II (Reader’s POV)

Ethereal moons beckon from scrolls depicting each of the four seasons — resplendent colours discordant against the drab stone walls on which they hang.

Cherry blossoms flutter against gold-foil skies; delicate petals frozen in time as they float across a folding screen.

Even the futon in the corner of your cell seemed fit for a princess at court, much more luxurious than the one in which you had slept at Azuchi.

The Dragon of Echigo had took it upon himself to see that his spoils of war would want for nothing, and yet he would deny you the one thing you truly desired:

The man himself.

Sasuke, Shingen and Yukimura would visit — sometimes together, sometimes in turn — graciously sharing their company for which you were so starved.  Your ninja friend swore with as much emotion as he could muster to do anything and everything possible to persuade his lord to release you, or at the very least, agree to see you.  Yukimura couldn’t stop shaking his head, the expression on his face indignant to see you treated thus, ‘boar woman’ though you were.  As for Lord Shingen, he likened you to a bird in a gilded cage, trying to tempt you with offers of freedom and a ready smile on his face that surely would’ve moved any woman to see it…

…any woman but you, that is.

For in your eyes, there was only ever Kenshin — the man who came to your rescue time and time again without knowing your true identity.  Intoxicating like the finest sake, each and every moment spent by his side became a precious embrace of a memory, emblazoned in your mind until it was impossible to forget:

The black cape that flowed from broad shoulders like a powerful wave, trailing behind him that night he saved you from those thugs in Azuchi.  The way your feet dragged behind his footsteps, moving slow just to watch him cut swift through tall grass with all the seasoned grace of a dancer.  His porcelain skin glowing from within as if lit by the light of his own moon.

And in his eyes…sorrow as unfathomable as the sea was deep, rising like smoke from sapphire and emerald in those rare moments the Dragon of Echigo let down his guard.  But alas, no more.

You had broken his trust.

How many nights have you lain awake, seeking out pinprick stars through the sliver of window high above your prison and thinking about how things might have been different?  What if you had disclosed your relationship with the Oda at the very start?  Would the press of the cold steel of his blade be more of a consolation against your neck than the heartbreak spreading from chest to limb every time you lay down to sleep?

Sleep?

No, that was not forthcoming these days — rest a luxury you couldn’t afford until the moment you could face Kenshin for yourself and tell him that you never meant to hurt him, never meant to lie.  That though Nobunaga found you first, you had no ulterior motive in approaching Kenshin other than the fact that you…you…

…simply couldn’t stay away.

No matter what anyone tried to say about him.

For even on the battlefield, every nerve singed as the stench of freshly spilt blood filled your nostrils, you still couldn’t tear your gaze from the one they revered as the God of War.  Like an immortal stepping from an unfurling scroll, Kenshin moved with the fluid grace of a master painter wielding his brush, completely at one with his sword as he dispatched his enemies with a precision that terrified and awed all at once.

And when he held you in his arms that night — the same hand which had claimed countless lives bleeding into your own as you clasped it in prayer for Sasuke’s safe return — you had felt no fear; only the wish that time would stretch into eternity so that you might forever have him near.

“Kenshin.”

You say his name once…twice…the syllables rolling off your tongue to echo down the hallway like a ghost, lonely and forgotten in the dungeons of Kasugayama Castle.  What was freedom to you when you couldn’t bear to break the shackles chaining you to a god who would never look your way again?

Chapter III (Kenshin’s POV)

“Kenshin.”

Her voice halts him in his tracks, one hand shooting out to rest upon the cool stone wall as Kenshin bolsters himself against the sudden weakness in his knees.  When was the last time he heard her speak his name?  Had it always sounded so melodic, caressing up the spine to curl gently upon the lobe of his ear?

That she is calling for him at a time when she should’ve been fast asleep is a source of elation and anxiety all at once, She is thinking of me tempered by the dread in knowing that she wasn’t getting the rest her body needed.  And slowly, slowly…the scales start to tip: if she didn’t sleep, she’d become too exhausted to eat.  And without eating, she would…

…die.

The nightmare would begin anew.  Except this time, it would be her blood on Kenshin’s hands, spilling crimson over the scars left behind by Isehime’s lifeless body.

She’ll slip away from you like the other, the voice in his head chastises, full of malice as darkness begins unfurling from the corners of his mind, tightening the vice in his chest.  They come hard and fast, thoughts tangling one over the other like a labyrinth of vines from which there was no escape:

Poison runs through your veins.  Loving her would only doom the girl to misfortune and regret.

If she is not yours, could you possibly surrender her to anyone else?

You cannot outrun your curse.  All those you hold dear will end up like Isehime: sleeping in the cold earth.

No one must lay eyes on her beauty, witness her elegance, know of the rare flower blooming in the depths of this dungeon.

No one but you.

Fist pulling back, Kenshin releases the full force of his strength in a punch to the wall.  Bruised bone and shredded skin send blistering pain to interrupt the cacophony in his head, silence reigning supreme once more until

“Kenshin?”

…she calls for him again, voice coloured with anticipation this time.  He hears a shuffle, sees her in his mind’s eye — throwing off the covers of her bedding to press against the bars, straining to peek around the wooden slats that kept her from freedom.  Kept her from him.

“Please, Kenshin…is that you?”

He knows not why he does it, body moving before his mind is even aware.  Kenshin had managed to make his way to her cell undetected every night since he put her there, standing silent in shadowy corners just to watch her sleep, allowing the rise and fall of her breath to soothe him with the knowledge that she was still very much alive.  But now, in a single moment of thoughtlessness, he had thrown it all away.

She gasps to finally see him and even the sound of that is beautiful, resonating clear like the note of an expertly plucked koto.  His gaze falls on her tightened grip around the bars, follows the solitary tear gathering starlight as it rolls down her cheek.  And when her eyes widen in horror to look upon the state of his injured hand, Kenshin feels it:

A shift deep within, barely perceptible but wholly significant, like ice cracking beneath the surface of a frozen stream.

And the rush of waters that follows drowns the lovers in a flood from which neither was capable of nor willing to escape.

Chapter IV (Reader’s POV)

Perhaps he really was a god, answering every prayer that ever slipped past noiseless lips to materialize before you in that prison.  His white kimono is pristine beneath that black cloak, as if emphasizing the sanctity of his being, the unalterable distance between Uesugi Kenshin and a mere mortal such as yourself.  But then the rivulets of red run down that swollen hand to tell you otherwise; the revelation bittersweet because maybe now, there was a way for you to be together, complicated though circumstances were.  

So you reach for him through the bars and he complies, watching as you lay kisses upon bruised fingers, feeling the familiar sting of your tears as they seep into wounded flesh and broken hearts — full of sorrow, full of joy…and impossible to stop.

“Push me away.”

His voice is soft for the hard edges of his words.  Head lifting, you meet those striking eyes, focused and still.  Yet, you felt the storm brewing in those blue and green depths, turmoil barely concealed beneath the ice of his gaze.  And there, standing before the man whose very blood stained your lips, you refuse.

Lightning flashes in those eyes and suddenly, his fingers are curling tight about the sleeve of your kimono, Kenshin pulling you close through the bars in one swift motion until the stilted rhythm of his breath is dancing hot over your skin.  

“Say it.  Say you hate me, that you want absolutely nothing to do with me.  Do it now or else—”

“No.  Never.  How could I ever bring myself to hate the one I love—”

The grimace on his handsome face cuts you off, the great Dragon of Echigo trembling at the very word, love, like it was dirty, taboo.  And as the final threads of control slip from his grasp, Kenshin is moving once more without thought — his body a slave to the dictates of the heart.  Yanking on the ring of keys hanging from his tapered waist, Kenshin throws open the door to your cell and in an instant, he is by your side.

“Fine.  Then I’ll make you hate me.”

His whisper is a promise.

The keys clatter as they’re thrown to the ground, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears, deafening with every pounding beat of your heart to feel his lips on yours for the very first time.  The insistent tongue pushing into your mouth carries a hint of sake, the fervour of his kiss leaving you intoxicated and desperate for more.

Long fingers thread through the silk of your hair, Kenshin’s grip gentle yet firm as he angles your head to deepen the kiss, bringing you closer and closer until the end of his exhalation marked the beginning of your next breath.  And hadn’t it always been this way, you forever chasing after the mystery that was this beautifully broken man?  The intensity of his want is a spell that bewitches, inexorably pulling you into the crucible of his desire, passion matching yours flame for burning flame until all else was extinguished.

Good and bad, right or wrong.

Words insignificant like ash in the face of this all-consuming love.

“Hate me,” Kenshin begs, teeth sinking into your lower lip until the taste of your blood mixed with his.  “Please…or else I’ll never give you up.”

Open-mouthed kisses now trailing wet along the column of your neck, your fingers find purchase in his golden hair, pulling hard as you yield to the sensation of his breath moving lower and lower still.  Kenshin groans, the sound resonating from deep within his chest to send a rush of heat that dampens the sacred space between your legs.

Body ready and heart set, your mind had been made up long ago.  So you grasp onto those shoulders — broad and strong — to pull Kenshin up before you.  And in the silent space between the beating of twin hearts, you say with a conviction so strong there could be no doubt,

“I am yours.”

The sound that catches in his throat is guttural, almost feral as those eyes of emerald and sapphire train on you with the intensity of a thousand suns.  A sea of emotions flit across that handsome face, subtly shifting until one finally wins out:

Need.

You barely feel it though it must’ve taken considerable force to tear your obi off, the sumptuous kimono he gifted you with slipping from your shoulders as the God of War sets you upon the futon fit for a princess.  Elegant even in haste, Kenshin disrobes with the grace of snow falling on frost-covered pine, revealing porcelain skin stretched over perfectly sculpted muscle that beckons to your every nerve.

And before the dungeon’s chill could rattle your bones, he gathers you into the heat of his embrace.  Skin to skin, the arms wrapped around you tremble when he whispers, “I’ve wanted you so desperately, I-I don’t think I can hold back.”  

Head falling back onto your pillow, you will Kenshin to see the sincerity, the surrender in the darkened gaze that reflects his very image.

“Then give me everything.  I want…all that you are.”

It tears a breathless gasp from your lips, mouth drawn open in a silent scream when Kenshin fills you to the hilt with a single thrust — the thick, hard heat of his cock testing the limits of your body with its size.  Equally skilled in bed as he was on the battlefield, the God of War is a force to be reckoned with, the swing of his hips graceful even as they connect with yours, ruthless in speed and intensity.

He moves within your body like he belongs, pulling out only to dive even deeper into slick depths until pleasure bloomed pink along your skin, the hardened tips of your breasts so enticing Kenshin couldn’t help but take them into his mouth in greedy turn as he continued thrusting, harder and faster until your legs began to shake.

“Oh god, Kenshin!  You feel…so…good...ahh!—”

Pants and screams echo down darkened corridors, the sound of your pleasure in being taken this way resonating in the corners of every prison cell until you think to bite onto the sleeve of your kimono.  But Kenshin just shakes his head, the sweat of exertion glistening on his body as his fingers move towards your mouth.

“No, I want…hmm…to hear you.  Every sound you make is…precious to me.  Let it out.”  

With that, he removes the embroidered fabric, lips pressing to yours to swallow every licentious moan for himself as he props your legs up against his shoulders.  All of a sudden, like pieces of a puzzle sliding into place, the motion awakens sensations you never before knew existed.

Unable to scream with your lover’s tongue in your mouth, your body responds in the only other way it knew how: convulsing beneath Kenshin until he is forced to pull out, allowing a flood of your arousal to cascade past swollen lips, spilling down the insides of your thighs in a lewd display that wets the bedding beneath your entwined bodies.  And yet,

“More.  Please, Kenshin…I want more…”

…you were insatiable.

The sight, sound and smell of you so undone ignites a fire inside the warlord, his mind scrambled by lust.  And when he slides into you once more, he fucks with absolute abandon, yearning for complete union even as he leaves you breathless to finally spill into your depths.

* * *

You awake to moonlight glowing soft beyond shoji screens and the rhythm of a heartbeat, measured and slow beneath your ear.  The robe you wore was fresh and soft; vague recollections of Kenshin gently caressing your fatigued body with a washcloth filtering in and out of your thoughts.  At some point, he must’ve carried you to his chambers, sleeping now as you were upon his chest.

Lifting your head, you gaze at your lover in repose.  It fills you with affection to see him — heart tightening to bind you to this man.  And as his muscular arm winds about your waist, you knew you would forever be a willing prisoner to his love.

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[detroitbydark]

Chapter 11

Characters: Fox/Mouse (reader), appearances from Hound, Thire, Rule, Mace Windu, Yoda, and Padmé Amidala.

Warning: angst (y’all want me to hirt you right?)

A/N: so get ready to read nearly 6000 words of Fox’s self loathing, the CG being supportive vod, Jedi being Jedi, and Mouse being hurt yet again.

Current

The choices had been fresh ink or gut-rot barracks hooch. Fox chose the ink.

He’s down in the levels, he can’t remember which one exactly, far enough from prying eyes and questioning vod, that was all that had really mattered. The artist, a pantoran with a nice portfolio, was busy laying out the design. He can feel the cool transfer as it’s pressed over his heart and he drags in a ragged breath. This was penance. This was the closure he needed. He’d messed up. For two weeks he’d messed up and now any chance he had was gone along with her.

“You wanna talk about it, man?” The tattoo artist asks as he peels away the flimsy leaving the outline on his skin.

“No”

Two weeks earlier

Fox hates the sterile smell of the hospital, the beige walls, the gleaming metal all around. It reminds him of Kamino and a medbay he’d spent more than enough time in. He was never quite as strong or quite as fast as the other CCs in his batch, men that would go on to bear monikers like Gree and Bly and Wolffe. He made up for it in other ways. His mind was sharp, quick to come to a plan of action, he could think on his feet.

He remembers Sargent Kal coming into the CC classroom one day for a talk on urban combat- something that had piqued CC-1010’s interest from the word go- and how by the end of the lesson he’d ended up the star of the day. His observations as they’d talked through scenarios had left Kal remarking that he was “Sly as a Fox” and that the Triple Zero would be a good place for the likes of him. He was only the second in his batch to earn a name and he wore it around like a badge of honor.

Now he didn’t feel so honorable or so sly. He felt a lot of other things though. The psych droid, a loathsome device of he'd ever seen one, had talked him through what had happened in the Supreme Chancellor’s suite. It had questioned him over and over, maybe expecting the answers to change, about what his part in the assassination of Sheev Palpatine had been. He was tired. He wanted to wrap himself around his cyar’ika and pretend the whole day had been a nightmare.

That was impossible, she was somewhere else in the hospital being treated, shoved into a bacta tank. It had only been Rex’s firm voice that had convinced Fox to let the medic’s anywhere near her. When he’d let them take her limp body away from him-

Fierfek.

The handprint- a bloody partial across the left side of his breastplate, was still there.

“Commander Fox” a familiar voice cuts through the silent world of the room“ Much to think about you have“

He recognizes the Jedi Master, Yoda, immediately. There was no one else the ancient green Jedi could be mistaken for.

“I prefer to not“ being around a force wielder was not high on Fox’s current list of things to do.

“Such Is life”

“With all due respect sir,” he can hear the petulance in his own voice but he has neither the energy nor will to rein it in “I didn’t ask for this life.”

“But given to you it was, nonetheless. Choices you must make with what to do with it.“

Fox is quiet and the small Jedi Master matches it until the door opens again and General Windu joins the pair. Fox meets his gaze and the Jedi nods solemnly.

“Much discussion Master Windu and I have had these last few hours-“

“So it’s back to Kamino then? Reconditioning or Termination?” Fox can’t hide the bitterness in his voice. He doesn’t want to. He wants the world -or at least the two Jedi in the room- to see his pain. To feel it like he was.

Yoda sighs and moves to him, walking stick clicking in time with his steps. He hops up on the cold metal table next to Fox in a way that makes Fox think that the walking stick was not really necessary. He fights the urge to move away.

“A great disservice has been done to you, Commander. No, Kamino is not where you belong, deserve punishment you do not.”

The words burn. Fox is trapped between relief and a slow simmering rage, one that demands he be punished for his inability to protect those most vulnerable. First Fives. Now Mouse. He failed because he was weak-

“Stop” General Windu’s voice is firm. The look on Fox’s face must read pure terror because the Jedi huffs softly, “I don’t need to see inside your head to know what you're thinking. It’s all over your face. Do you know the kind of power Sidious possessed? To fight off that kind of insinuation would have been nearly impossible and that was before the chip-“

“The chip?” Fox attempts to rise to his feet but three green fingers press down on his arm. He looks down at the tired, ancient face of the Jedi Master and sits back down. “What of the chip? What has it got to do in all of this?”

The answer is simple. Everything.

Fox sits in cold shock as the Jedi describe to him what they’d learned of Palpatine’s- no, Sidious’ plans for the clone army. He stops them once to go to the bathroom and vomit. It wasn’t just Tup and Fives and him. It was all his vode. The entire clone army programmed to turn on their leaders, their friends with the utterance of a single phrase. He thinks of the hints Bly had made about his Jedi when they’d last spoken.

For a moment it’s more than he can fathom, and he holds a hand up for quiet. The Jedi allow it. He gives himself a minute, just one, before he pulls himself together, before he sits up straight and pushes the anguish, hurt, and the dirty feelings deep down.

“What now?” The implications of what has happened are finally becoming clear “The Republic can’t know the truth. There’ll be chaos in the streets. They’ll turn against the clones entirely” Fox worries more for his brothers than ever before. If the citizens knew…

“Correct you are, Commander” Yoda agrees..

“It needs to stay under wraps. The only people that will ever know it was anything other than an sudden death by natural causes will be us and the others that were in that room. Skywalker, Captain Rex, and-“

“Don’t say her name” it comes out as a growl, “leave her out of this.”

“There she was, Commander. Secrets she must learn to keep.”

Fox’s nails bite into the palms of his hands, “you won’t-“ he can’t bring himself to say the words.

“We will not force thoughts into her head.” Mace clarifies. “From what I’ve heard of her I think she’ll understand our reasoning for secrecy. Her injuries will be said to come from a mugging. You’ll fill out the report. Wrong place wrong time”

Wasn’t that the truth.

Fox nods slowly, “and what of my brothers?”

“Come out the chips must.” Fox flinches when a green finger taps at his temple, “but uncomplicated and quick it is.”

“We will let it be known that the chips are faulty and to continue to use them puts the clones in danger of having unforeseen medical problems.” Mace’s eyes narrow as Fox scoffs. He raises a brow challengingly, “do you think they’d rather know that they were all ticking timebombs? That at any moment they’d be triggered into mindless killers? Pawns?”

A tense moment passes with the two men glaring at one another. Of course Fox doesn’t think that would be any better.

“We’ll begin rotating troops through the nearest medical units capable of removal immediately.” Mace explains. “We can have the entire Coruscant Guard done by the end of the week and it appears with minimal down time. A day, tops.” He explains.

A quick nod is all the acknowledgement Fox can muster. He doesn’t like the idea of keeping the Guard in the dark and he hates having them undergo any medical procedure even more. He wasn’t the only clone who had lingering emotions when it came to the medbay, not by a long shot.

“I’ll go first.”

The Jedi at his side makes an agreeable hum. General Windu nods.

“As I would expect a good leader to do.”

Fox isn’t sure how much he buys into their approval.

13 days earlier

The official story was that Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine had succumbed to a sudden illness. The holonews was ablaze with stories: from the official release to the tabloid fodder. Fellow politicians waxed poetic on him as a man and a leader, someone who stepped forward when the Republic was in its darkest hour to take control of the chaos.

It was said his last words were, “and sorry I couldn’t give more for my people and the galaxy.”

If Fox’s eyes rolled any harder he was sure they’d fly from his head and ping around in his bucket. Sidious was dead. He didn’t deserve the adoration of billions or the high honors of his burial. He was a hu’tuun. The skanah was better suited as feed for the carrion birds than the marble burial chamber he’s laid to rest in with military honors provided by clones he’d have used as weapons against the very Republic they swore to protect.

10 days earlier

Four days without Mouse and Fox feels twitchy. It’s been over a year since he’s gone more than two days without laying eyes on her. Knowing that she was recently released from the bacta tank doesn’t make it any easier. He’d not wanted to see her floating in the tank for a plethora of reasons, the least of which was his own guilt. That didn’t stop him from setting up a guard rotation at her door as soon as he was cleared to return to duty. It also didn’t stop him from demanding regular updates on her care from the kits he was setting up at her room.

Ryk had been present when she’d been taken out of the tank and said she’d seemed in good spirits as she’d slowly come too.

Wren had gently indicated that she’d love some company while she was on bed rest.

Rule had given him a look that screamed, ‘don’t be a scum sucking piece of nerf fodder.’ As he’d explained that Mous’ika had been asking for him.

She’d been asking for him. Even after everything she wanted to see him.

And he couldn’t do it.

He’d made his way twice to the nurses station before turning and making an excuse to leave.

He couldn’t look at her. Sidious’ words still swirled in his head. even though General Yoda had reassured him that he was no longer under the sway of the Sith, the thoughts still lingered.

You were supposed to use her to fuck your baser urges out.

She’s using you to obtain a foothold in the guard.

She’s fooled you all.

The underlying message was unmistakable.

Why would anyone choose to care for a clone?

Fox almost wishes the headaches would return so he could focus on the pain in his head vs. that dull empty ache in his chest, a black hole behind his rib cage, but he hasn’t had one since both the Sith Lord and the chip were removed from his life.

9 days earlier

Bail Organa is voted into the Chancellorship by an overwhelming number of his peers.

It’s the best choice, as far as Fox is concerned. With Senator Amidala announcing a leave of absence to give birth to the best guarded secret since the clone army, it’s the only choice Fox finds acceptable.

Not like anyone would ask his opinion.

Organa is a good man, even if he is a politician. He’s only ever looked out for the Republic, never given in to self indulgent whims, never taken more than he deserved.

Fox touches the fresh scar on the right side of his head gently as Holonet News continues to replay the new Chancellor's inauguration from earlier. Barely more than a week and everything has changed.

General Windu was correct, medical had been able to get through the entire guard in rapid fire. All of his men were sporting matching scars, many were more than a little curious as to the actual reason their chips had been removed. He’s both insanely proud and horribly frustrated at the theories being bandied about. Some far too close for comfort.

They can never know. Nobody can ever know.

But somehow Bail Organa knows.

He’s only had one meeting, early this morning before the inauguration, in private with the new Chancellor but he’d alluded to things that left Fox speechless. He’d known Bail to have friends in high places, but he hadn’t realized how high.

“Think he’ll do better than the last one?”

Thire hovers in the doorway, unmoving until Fox inclines his head toward the open seat across his desktop.

“Can’t be any worse.” There’s no humor in his tone but Thire huffs out a quiet laugh.

There’s a lag in the conversation, not like one has truly begun, and Fox takes a breath before setting down his datapad and flicking the holo off. “How long have we known one another?” He asks looking up at his lieutenant.

“Long enough.”

“So, you and I both know that you're here for something else and It's not just to make quips about the new Alor.”

“I suppose that’s true” Thire’s face gives nothing away. Fox liked that about the shock trooper. He was reserved, yes, but also pragmatic. A problem solver, not ruled by his emotions. Which was all well and good but something about the way he’s staring makes Fox feel like he’s the problem needing solving.

“Spit it out.”

“Go see her.”

Fox raises a brow in his vod’s direction. “Is that an order”

“Respectfully sir” the corner of Thire’s mouth quirks almost imperceptibly before it falls away.

The little shit.

In reality, Fox had known this one going to come from one of his men. He’d expected Rule or Hound, the more brash and aggressive boys, to be the ones but Thire is not a complete shock. He’d never seemed particularly close to Mouse but the lieutenant did play things close to the chest.

“She had a nightmare last night while I was on watch. Woke up crying your name.”

Inside Fox crumbles. No amount of talking to a psych droid was going to fix that feeling. No amount of time would make him feel ok about what he’d allowed to happen to the woman he loved. Thire continues.

“A clone's lot is not much. They decant us. They train us. They ship us out to fight in their war. We live, maybe. We die, more likely. Nothing is given to us.” Thire runs a hand over his head, fingers scratching at the crown. “Sometimes though, a di’kut like you gets a break. That woman in that bed cried in my arms. Talked to me like I was you for over an hour and I let her. You know why?”

Fox has to unclench his jaw, work past the jealous ache rising up in his chest to respond, “why?”

“Because it’s the closest I’ll ever have to feeling that kind of emotion. I’m not ashamed to say I pulled your girl into my lap, held her close and said soft things I didn’t even know I knew into her pretty hair until she calmed down. I was happy to pretend to be your atin’shebs but you know what the real kicker is, Vod?”

Fox’s hands are like vice grips on the edge of his seat, knuckles pale white as a shinies armor. The thought of Mouse hurting is one thing, but to have someone else be the one to comfort her? It tears at him. “What?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“When she calms down she says, “I know you're not him. Thank you for letting me pretend for a minute”.

7 days earlier

He pretends like he doesn’t know where he’s going. Like talking to the kriffing psych droid really had him so out of sorts he didn’t realize he was getting on a turbo lift and heading up three flights after his appointment.

He tries to act like he doesn’t know his feet are carrying him to the room with the familiar red and white sentinel outside the door.

Rule quirks his helmet before snapping to attention.

“Commander Fox, sir?”

“At ease Sargent.” It's late, well past visiting hours but the few sentient nurses and the droids assisting them make no move to rush him along. Perks of the armor.

Rule relaxes and glances through the small transparisteel window on the door behind him before turning back.

“She just had some medicine.” He explains, “pain was getting pretty bad again.”

Fox’s bucket hides his cringe, allowing him to outwardly remain impassive and aloof, his voice even as he asks simple questions about visitors and any possible issues arising.

“No problems here sir. I think I heard her Doc say something about discharge tomorrow. She’s doing ok” what isn’t said hangs in the air.

She’d be doing better if you were with her

“That’s good. That’s good” Fox agrees, readily avoiding the things left unspoken. “Have you been relieved for dinner?”

“I have a ration bar in my pack sir.”

“Do I need to say it?”

The sunny tone of Rule’s voice tells him everything he needs to know. He can imagine the shit eating grin that accompanies it. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean, sir?”

A quick glance up and down the hall shows nothing but gleaming white tile. No staff. No visitors. No one but Rule to bear witness to his moment of weakness.

“Take the night off Sargent. I’ll cover the watch.”

He stares at the emotionless visor for a beat waiting for his kit to argue, for him to make a smart comment.

It doesn’t happen.

Rule rolls his shoulders, stretching slightly as he makes his move past Fox. At the last second, Rule's hand shoots out, resting over Fox’s vambrace. The moment lingers without either speaking until Rule gently pulls the Commander in and knocks his bucket against Fox’s, pressing his forehead to his Commander’s.

Fox, claps a hand behind the sargents head and they sit there frozen for a moment in time, Rule offering more comfort in that one gesture than he’s felt in days. A Keldabe kiss to ease his fragile psyche.

“Alverde.” Rule offers quietly when the pair finally part.

“Sargent” Fox gives a minuscule nod. “Enjoy your night.” He watches the youngster head down the hall until he turns a corner and is gone from sight.

Fox manages to avoid looking in the room for five minutes exactly. He’s able to fight off the pull to enter it for another twenty. The draw of her is too much in the end and he finds himself slipping into her room before the first thirty minutes are even past.

The lights are low and the monitors and electronics surrounding her hum and buzz steadily. Everything is white and stark. His cyar’ika is nearly the same color as the sheet she lays under.

She looks small, and so achingly fragile Fox is afraid the weight of his look alone will break her. She shivers lightly and he lurches into motion, dragging the itchy comforter over her legs and tucking it around her shoulders. Her body stirs as his gloved hand grazes along her cheek.

He freezes as her eyes flutter open. Her pupils aren’t quite right. It seems to take her a moment to piece together what’s going on but when she does the realization that washes over her is visible.

“Fox” his name sounds like a long lost friend rolling from her lips. She struggles to sit up. A look of pain flashes across her face as she twists under the blankets.

“Stop that” he demands impotently, his gloves moving to press gently against her chest. “you’re going to hurt yourself.”

She blinks owlishly up at him in the way only a person on good pain meds can, like she doesn’t quite understand what’s been said and she’s not sure whether she should comply or question it. It’s somewhere between bemused and scared.

He cups her cheek in his hand, “easy precious girl.” He soothes. Mouse relaxes into his touch as his gloved thumb rubs softly. Her eyes flutter shut and he can feel the soft sound she makes against his palm.

This was already far past what he intended. He just wanted to see her, to prove to himself she was really alive and in one piece despite him.

Now, he finds himself already slipping into old habits.

More focused, her eyes open. Her hand slips up and grips his vambrace. Slowly she pulls his hand away from her face. She lets her fingers slip down into and through his. Her voice is thick with sleep when she speaks and Fox has to lean in to hear her.

“I knew you’d come”

Of course she had. Fox wonders if she knew him better than he knew himself. This was always going to happen no matter how many times he’d lied to himself. He pulls his hand away. Mouse’s hangs empty in the air for a moment before she sets it down over her chest.

The quiet burr and hum of the monitors around her are the only sound between them until he reaches up to his bucket and lets the seal pop with a soft hiss.

Her eyes scan his face as he sets the helm off to the side. There’s a question there he can’t decipher. “What can I do?”

A harsh laugh escapes Fox’s lips and Mouse frowns at him.

“I think you’ve done enough, cyar’ika.”

“Fox-“ it’s a scolding tone that holds no weight when she looks like a battered doll in a too big hospital bed. She closes her eyes when he doesn’t give in and offer her more.

The bed dips under his weight as he sits at the edge of it. “I just wanted to make sure you were, ok. Alright?” He holds back from touching her again. It takes an enormous amount of will.

“I’m ok, Fox. Because of you.”

It’s a lie. All of it. It can’t be anything else. “You're in a hospital bed,” he growls, pushing up to his feet and stalking toward the window. He can’t look at her. “You spent days floating in bacta. You-“

“I’m alive.”

“That’s not because of me.”

He hears the ruffle of sheets as he looks out over Coruscant. The lights of the buildings and speeders in the sky lanes, like stars in the polluted evening light.

“Fox-“ her hand touches his arm and he spins to steady her. Anger swells up in him.

“Kriff- Mouse, get back in bed” he orders lowly, “you’re going to get hurt.”

She sways gently on her feet in the too big hospital gown but her jaw is set, “will you listen to me?”

“Will you get back in bed?” Fox pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath before looking at her again. “Get back in bed and I’ll listen. Please.”

Mouse stands, arms crossed, glaring pointedly. Fox has had enough. Quick and smooth like a tactical insertion he scoops her up. Mouse makes a small noise as his arms slide behind her knees and his other arm cradles behind her shoulders. She breathes heavily as she looks up at him.

“You’re going back to bed.” He covers the small room in just a few steps. When he goes to set her down she slips her arms around his neck and holds on for dear life.

“I’m not getting back in that bed unless you come with me.”

“You’re not in the position to make demands.” But that’s a lie because, with him, she was always in the position to make demands. She just never had to.

“Please, Fox. I just want one good night. You can leave as soon as I'm asleep.”

It’s hard to say if it’s the tired tone of her voice, the smell of her skin so temptingly close, or just his own beaten down need to be close to her, regardless Fox gives in.

“The armor stays on.” He says as he settles into the bed, he tries to keep his boots off the bed the best he can. Mouse curls tighter against him. It can’t be comfortable against the plastoid but to look at her he’d never know. One hand rests along his jaw while the other wraps around his back keeping him from easily disentangling himself.

Fox can’t help himself as he slips one glove off and cards his fingers through her hair, stopping every so often to work out a tangle. Mouse sighs against him.

“Precious girl,” he hums lowly as her fingers trace along the stubble at his jaw, “go to sleep.”

“You're going to leave once I do.”

“Yes, that was the deal.”

“You’re not going to come back.”

Again, he’s struck with how well she knows him. “No, cyar’ika. I’m not.”

6 days earlier

His knuckles are wailing in pain and it feels so kriffing good. His hands, wrapped in protective tape are held tight and safe as he tenderizes the heavy bag in front of him. A low, guttural growl works its way up from his chest with each landed blow.

It’s the first time he’s felt in control in days. Even if it only lasted for his duration in the sparring rooms he didn’t care. When he closes his eyes he doesn’t see Mouse at the end of his blaster, the way her body recoiled and convulsed at the first shot. He doesn’t hear the scream that rips through her when the second bolt burns through her side. He doesn’t dwell on the voice in his head demanding the kill while Fox did everything to drag his near perfect aim away from center mass.

He pictures Sidious’ face on the bag and the pile of sloppy mash his fists were making it into. There’s catharsis in the exertion that a psych droid couldn’t give him.

“Commander, sir?”

Fox turns to see Hound stripped down to just his black under armor pants. He was a burly boy as far as clones went, thicker and more muscular through the torso, next to Hound, Fox looks almost lithe.

Fox pants lightly as he dips to grab a bottle of water and straighten back up. “What can I do for you?”

“I- do you need to-“

Fox watches as the man chooses his words carefully, finally gesturing first toward the mat.

“You wanna go a few, rounds? Looks like you could use it?”

A roll of tape is flipped through the air in answer. Hound catches it smoothly, giving Fox a happy grin as he begins wrapping his hands.

5 days earlier

There’s a neat hole in his wall, fist sized and fresh, less than a week old. Fox pretends like he doesn’t see Chancellor Organa eyeballing it with some amount of apprehension. What he can’t pretend is that a visit from the newly minted Chancellor to his office isn’t a surprise.

“Commander, you can drop the title with me.” The Chancellor says for the second time since his arrival.

“Sir, it’s frowned upon-“

“-not by me”

Fox huffs and closes his eyes to hide the roll of them. “Ok, fine. Can I get you something to drink? Some caf?”

Bail waves off the offer, “I won’t be long and it looks like you're woefully underserved.” He tips his head back toward the door and the empty desk.

A bristle of irritation tingles down Fox’s neck. “She was in the hospital. She was…” the words trail off. Part of protecting his little Mouse was keeping her involvement in the Sidious event quiet.

“I know, Commander.” Bail says quietly, “we share a friend on the council who’s made me aware of many interesting things.”

It feels like he’s being baited. He likes to think Organa wouldn't try to try to weasel information from him but his trust is a very delicate thing at the moment and he’s not willing to give an inch. His loyalty is to his men and the republic, after that only one other person had earned any devotion from him and that was not Bail Organa. At least not yet.

“If there’s anything I can do for her, anything she needs we can make that happen.”

Fox glances at the picture on his desk. It had come by courier earlier in the day. It’s been neatly matted and framed to be hung, a children’s drawing of a small green twi’lek child and him holding hands. He’d stared at it on his desk in silence for far too long before he felt something ugly bubble up. Now he had a hole in the wall. He hoped the picture would cover it.

Fox continues to look at the picture. He needs a second to pretend like he knows what Mouse needs. He doesn’t listen to the nagging voice inside of him saying it to him. He hates that voice, would smother it if he could.

“She needs time to heal.”

“I can make that happen.”

“Thank you.”

Earlier this day

“Senator Amidala” Fox greets the senator at the door, “this is a surprise. If I keep receiving politicians in my office I’m going to have to have it made more suitable.”

The senator gives him a bright smile, “it’s good to see you Fox.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, “it’s good to see you too Padmé.”

They were friends, of a sort. They’d seen enough together that Fox would gladly file her under battle buddies in his short list of friends. She looks lovely, as always, absolutely glowing. Her hand rests softly over the growing baby bump she was now proudly displaying.

“You look wonderful. Congratulations on the coming Ik’aad.” He offers gesturing toward her belly. His eyes linger and he remembers laying Mouse across his bed, placing kisses in a ring around her naval and imaging what it would be like someday when he-

Fox gives his head a quick shake and refocuses on the senator.

“Thank you.” He watches her eyes travel to the child’s drawing on the wall behind his desk before returning to him. “And how are you doing?”

“As well as can be expected. Chancellor Organa keeps a busy schedule and he’s insistent that I go with him. He’s got a lot of ideas and he asks my opinion. It’s different… but it’s nice.”

Padmé slips into the chair across from him.

“That’s wonderful” but she doesn’t sound like it’s wonderful. She sounds like she was here on a mission that he hasn’t been briefed on. He raises a brow at her. They’ve known each other long enough that she should know to just come out with it.

“We’re leaving for Naboo today. I want to have the baby in the lake country. It’s beautiful and peaceful.” She lets out a tired laugh, “and far away from the prying eyes of the holonet news.”

“They’ve been very… interested in you as of late” he offers diplomatically.

Another small laugh, “to say the least” Padmé sobers. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok with her going?”

Confusion must show on his face. Her?

Padmé frowns gently, the look of pity is out of place on her serene features, “you weren’t told, were you?”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to speak clearly.” Fox tries to bite back the tension but it slips into his voice.

She says Mouse’s name. Her real name.

“The Chancellor asked if we would take her with us. That she needed a place to finish recovering.” Padmé is watching his face. She’s trying to gauge his reaction.

He tries to give her nothing.

“She’s an amazing woman. She said if she went then she had to be useful. She’s going to be my assistant while I’m on leave-“

Fox holds up a hand. “She’s excellent at what she does. You’ll never be in better hands.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not her keeper. Mouse deserves to be safe and happy.” He shoots her a forced smile. “That’s not with me.”

Current

He had the rancor etched into his arm after Thorn had been killed in action on a mission Fox was supposed to have led. It was an inside joke they’d heard as shinies. Something about a Jedi and a rancor walking into a cantina. He can’t remember the punchline. It wasn’t funny anyways.

The Pantoran works the needle over his freshly shaven chest. Back and forth, outlining and filling. Pressing the ink into his skin to permanently mark him with another mark of regret, penance. Everytime he looks in the mirror, stripped down from his armor and his blacks he’ll see the reminder of what never was supposed to be, the thing that he went after when he knew it wasn’t allowed. The love that nearly destroyed the person he cared for beyond all others.

“So, this picture is pretty wicked” the Pantoran says conversationally. He glances back and forth from the reference picture Fox gave him, a partial hand print pressed against his armor, the fourth and fifth finger only partially visible and the heel of the hand smeared red. “Was it done in ink?”

“No. Blood.”

The Pantoran makes a sound of understanding. The buzz of the tattoo gun fills the quiet.

Seconds, minutes, hours it’s all the same as Fox sits still as stone in the chair, the press of the needle intimately familiar.

He thinks of Mouse on a shuttle to Naboo.

This was what he’d needed. Mouse far away, somewhere safe. Somewhere no one could hurt her. Where he couldn’t hurt her. No matter what he’s told he still doesn’t believe there isn’t something in him that can be persuaded, to be flipped on, that won’t harm her.

He needed to focus on his job, his men, the Galactic Republic. There was no world in which he and Mouse would work and it was better that she wasn’t there to know that.

“Alright, mate.” The Artist sets the gun down and claps his hands once before rubbing them together. “You’re all set. Why don’t you take a looksy in the mirror while I grab the bacta gel and a dressing?”

Fox nods and pushes himself up. His back is stiff from laying still and he takes a moment to stretch and twist before stepping in front of the mirror. His eyes trace the ink. It’s a perfect replica of the picture, deep vibrant red fingers pressing into his armor, only now pressing into his heart. A reminder of what happens when he becomes selfish. When he wants more than the greater design allows for.

“It’s perfect.”

[kylorenskitten]

Theprinceofthestars - Open for Requests!

Hello! My name is Kitty and I love to write fanfiction for fun in my spare time. I love to write reader-insert fanfiction about the characters that Adam Driver portrays in film. (I will not write fic’s about the real Adam Driver because I think it’s disrespectful but there’s no harm in a little fantasizing over the fictional characters he portrays.) I try my best to write with proper grammar and I’ve been writing since I was very young.

These are the character’s I’ll write for:

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren (When I write for Kylo, I write him set in an AU where he killed Snoke, destroyed the Resistance, and now reins as the strongest man in the galaxy.)

Charlie Barber

Clyde Logan

Flip Zimmerman

Paterson

Adam Sackler

Ronnie Peterson

Any characters not listed; I do not write for.

 This is what I do not write:

Heavy angst (like breakups or divorce between the character and the reader or infidelity and cheating), death/MCD, breeding kink, and dub-con/non-con.

 This is what I will write:

Daddy kink/ddlg, pet play kink/kitten/master, and bondage kink. Also basically anything else you’d like me to write that doesn’t involve the things I listed above.

 My ask box is now open for requests! I’m newly starting this blog and I wanna see where it goes! Thank you!

[Edited 4/24/20: I may not do every request I receive if I don't have the inspiration for it and I have the right to choose not to do a request.

Thanks to everyone who's shown me love this past week! More writing to come soon! Reblogging this again so hopefully more people see it.]

[amandaoftherosemire]

Bulletproof -- Part Eleven

Fandom: Marvel/College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Gamora, Natasha Romanoff, Thor Odinson, Sam Wilson, Loki Odinson, Peter Quill, OFC Lilah Robbins

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,450

Format: Series (Complete)

Warnings: 18+ only, Smut, language, binge drinking, sex in public, intoxicated confessions, angst.

Summary: You and Bucky go with Gamora and Nat to a frat party. Shenanigans ensue. Bucky hears some hard truths.

A/N: Look, it had to happen at some point. That’s all I’m saying.

Banner by: @hellzzzbelle

Part Ten here

 Part Eleven

You walked to Quill's fraternity house with Gamora and Nat leading the way and Bucky's arm around your shoulders. He'd insisted on walking with the three of you, claiming he needed protection and knew he’d be safe with the three of you.

“Well,” he murmured hotly into your ear, “safe with them. You’re another story, babygirl.”

Your skin went hot and your lips twitched. Snorting, you drilled your finger into the sensitive spot on his stomach. “Shut up.” Your voice was a stern mutter, but your face was a study in smug.

On the sidewalk ahead of you, Gamora and Natasha shared an amused eye roll at the two of you. They were both a little baffled that the two of you seemed to think you were fooling anyone. Still, even Natasha had come around by the time you reached the party, too charmed by the energy of fun and affection between you.

She'd believed Gamora when she'd insisted that Bucky was stupid in love with you, but she didn't necessarily think that meant he wouldn’t hurt you. Seeing you light up under his obvious devotion, however, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The fact that you were clearly setting the rules and boundaries, with Bucky following your lead, helped her understand why neither Gamora nor Steve had interfered in any way.

That you were oblivious to the reality of the dynamics of your relationship with Bucky had her deeply concerned, though. She worried that you were laboring under misconceptions fueled by assumptions. A student of cause and effect, she knew no good could come of confusion, unless there was an order underlying the chaos. As you didn't know you held the reins, you couldn't be directing the course. Natasha planned to discuss this with Gamora at the first available opportunity.

To that end, about an hour after they'd arrived, she went looking for Gamora and instead found Bucky, in the goddamn laundry room, lip-locked with Lilah fucking Robbins. Her face cold and cruel with the plans of revenge running through her head, Natasha pulled her phone from her pocket and began recording.

Bucky was in full-blown panic mode. Gamora had come and taken you from him, laughingly insisting that she needed you for 'girl talk'. (He shuddered to think what girl talk might entail when the girls were you and your friends. He’d never met more dangerous women.) Bucky had decided to play it safe and stay in the crowd around the beer pong table where Sam was winning against a progressively more intoxicated, and thus sassier, but no less able, Thor Odinson. He was having fun until he saw Lilah Robbins stalking toward him in a tight dress designed to raise the blood pressure. He’d made his first mistake by running; predators cannot resist a chase.

Which is how he found himself once again in another frat house laundry room with a pretty girl he was wishing was you wrapped around him.

This time, however, he'd said no before the wrapping.

Trying to be gentle, but also supremely pissed, Bucky put both hands firmly around Lilah's shoulders and yanked her away from him.

"Goddammit, woman," he spat out, infuriated to find himself in this position and utterly sick to his stomach in fear that he'd be the unluckiest bastard on the planet and you'd come walking in on this farce. "No means no, Lilah, the fuck?"

"Oh, come on, Bucky," she purred and pouted, "You know you didn't mean it."

"I told you," Bucky didn't let go of her shoulders, the look in her eye telling him she'd be crawling all over him if he did, "I’m not interested. Even if I was, I'm involved with someone." With that, he pushed her back gently, but with disgust. "And if I pulled bullshit like this, it'd be sexual assault."

Bucky turned to walk out but paused when Lilah shot back, her voice full of venom, "Who is it? Y/N? The girl next door?"

"Keep your fucking mouth shut about y/n," he growled without turning around, anger coming alive in his voice for the first time.

"Get some standards, Bucky."

Rather than respond with the obvious, Bucky simply scoffed, “Please.” With only that, he walked out, so irritated by the whole thing that the small redhead who'd melted into the shadows behind a stack of boxes near the door easily escaped his notice.

Natasha sent you the video along with a text instructing you to listen to the end before putting the phone back in her pocket and easing into Lilah's view with a smile. She figured Bucky deserved a little assistance since he'd done so well.

"I have to say,” she spoke conversationally as the other woman spun around in surprise, "I don't know why you're wasting your time there." The pretty smile took on a sultry edge. "What you need is some imagination. If you're looking to fuck someone unsuitable--" she shrugged and moved forward, "--there are all sorts of options."

Natasha's smile spread, sultry turning feral, when her meaning struck Lilah and was considered rather than rejected. Hey, the things she did for her friends.

After his narrow escape, Bucky ended up looking through half the house before he found you back in the den. Infuriatingly, he found you in Thor's arms. Granted, you were giggling and shaking your head as Thor bounced up and down and chanted, "Keg stand! Keg stand! Keg stand!"

Gamora was laughing and trying to muffle Quill, who was chanting with Thor and inspiring others to join in.

"What're you doin' with my girl, there, Odinson?" Bucky's voice sailed across the chant and had your head snapping toward him eagerly.

You'd been looking for him when you found Thor, who'd lost thoroughly to Wilson and wanted to share his good fortune. You were careful with alcohol under normal circumstances; a frat party meant one beer in a bottle that you'd fill with water when the beer was gone. You'd long ago found that you had to have a drink in your hand, or you'd spend the night fending off offers to get you more alcohol.

On the other hand, Bucky had just called you his girl in front of a whole crowd of your friends. Tonight was shaping up to be a different kind of frat party. That was proved over again when Thor grinned happily at you and squeezed until you squeaked and boomed, "KEG STAND!"

By this time, Bucky had made his way through the throng to your side. Thor set you down but grabbed your hand to draw you toward the keg in the kitchen. You shot Bucky a look of amused exasperation but didn't resist. "Apparently I'm doing a keg stand," you remarked dryly as you allowed Thor to lead you astray. "You wanna hold my legs, Bug?"

Bucky looked sharply at you, a warning in his face in response to the mischief in yours. "Like I'd let anyone else," he retorted with a smirk as he followed you into the kitchen.

"Gamora!" you called over your shoulder, thinking about the surprise you had for Bucky, "Come make sure I don't show everyone my ass!"

Once you were in the kitchen, Thor pushed the crowd around the tapped keg out of the way. He picked up the tap spout and gestured toward the squat metal cylinder like Vanna White toward your new car. You laughed again, though you were highly uncertain about this particular risky decision. You hadn't done lasting damage to your body by binge drinking, but you didn't like to push your luck, either.

Still, Bucky had that sexy grin on his face, the one that incited you to swing higher, jump farther, go faster. He'd let you down the last time you'd crashed and burned, but these days you were willing to give him a chance to make it up to you. When Gamora gave you a searching look, you smiled fully at her and took a firm hold on the metal rim at the handles. Bucky wrapped his left arm around your legs, careful to smooth his hand over your knee-length dress to preserve your modesty, and lifted them up over his shoulder until you were upside down.

Gamora stepped back to clear a little space around you as Bucky had your ass literally covered but smirked a little when she saw the unimpeded view of your cleavage Thor was currently enjoying.

"Tug my ear when you're done, cutie,” Thor rumbled with his beautiful smile. You gave him a hot look from under your lashes, remembering that Thor loved when you’d played with his ears. You didn’t take the flirting personally, despite the endearment. Thor was a handful; it was part of his appeal. Sometimes you didn’t know how you handled the overabundance of attractiveness around you.

“Quit looking at my tits, Odinson,” you muttered with a smirk before taking the offered spout.

Thor’s grin flashed. “I’m only human, cutie,” he answered before pressing the button and starting the count.

You weren’t paying any further attention, drinking quickly. You planned to hold out for a ten count, long enough to salve your pride but not so long you ended up plastered and puking. At least, that was until you heard Thor’s brother shout, “No push-up?! Then it's not a keg stand!”

Your hands tightened around the handles as Bucky's arms tightened around your legs. The moment he heard the taunt, he knew you'd be rising to the bait. You never could resist a challenge. He wasn't disappointed when you pushed up once, twice, three times to Thor's roar of laughter. When you finished the third push-up, you reached out and grabbed Thor's ear, running your thumb over the lobe and making him laugh harder. He dropped the spout as Bucky carefully lowered your legs to the floor.

You were only just upright when Thor was scooping you up until you were sitting on his shoulder above the crowd as he shouted, "Bow before your Queen, brother!"

From your position on his shoulder, you easily met Loki's eyes with a raised eyebrow and barely restrained glee. With a mocking smile, the wickedly handsome man swept a gallant bow. When he met your eyes again, he nodded an acknowledgement and stated, "Keg stand."

Bucky stood, dumbstruck, smiling up at you as you threw your head back and laughed while Thor set you back down. There were moments when you were so beautiful, when the love rose up into his throat and nearly choked him. He could only stand and grin at you in moments like these, lost in the wonder of it.

Gamora wasn't a romantic; she didn't have that luxury, but even her heart sighed a little at the look of pure, unrelenting adoration all over Bucky as he stood and stared at you. You hadn't noticed; once you were on your feet, Thor was kneeling before you, calling you Keg Queen and you were rolling your eyes and pushing him over. Unable to stand it, and wanting to give Bucky a hand, she decided to intervene through distraction.

"My turn!" she announced gaily and stepped forward. "Thor, hold my legs. Peter, grab the tap."

Thor turned toward her with delight as Peter stepped forward with a grin. Gamora rarely played party games of any sort; both men were excited to corrupt her. As soon as Thor was out of the way, Bucky was grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the room. "I need to talk to you."

"But, Bucky," you could feel the alcohol start to hit you as you tried to keep up and pull your phone out of your pocket at the same time, "I've never seen G do a keg stand!"

To your surprise, amusement, and excitement, Bucky was pulling you into what looked like a linen closet, but it was full of sports equipment. You kicked a muddy cleat out of your way and chuckled, "Bucky, you romantic."

You stuffed the phone back in your skirt pocket, the video Natasha had sent you forgotten. You'd been about to watch whatever she'd sent when Thor had started in about keg stands but being alone with Bucky in a closet had other things taking priority.

Namely, Bucky's mouth as it came down on yours, his arms sliding around you to pull you in close. His lips were soft, but his kiss was hard, almost bruising as his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His metal arm was tight around your waist as you pressed your body against his from thigh to breast, kissing him back with equal fervor.

Your hands came up to tangle in his hair, your fists gripping for leverage as you shuddered in desire. Tearing your mouth from his to suck in a breath, you arched your neck when he buried his face in your throat to take the skin between his teeth.

“Bucky, what the hell?” you gasped, your tone both amused and appreciative as you rocked your hips against his erection.

“I don’t like Thor’s paws on you,” he muttered against your throat, his own paws growing more avid as the hums of pleasure sounding in your throat urged him on.

When Bucky had teased about talking you into a closet to make out, you hadn't expected to be dragged into one to be ravished. You weren't complaining; you were simply surprised. As Bucky's annoyed statement seeped through the fog of lust his mouth and hands had created, you jolted in shock. "Are you jealous?" you asked in a voice rich with surprise.

"Are you kidding me?" His hands had wandered by now down to your ass to grip and lift to press you with his body against the wall. You assisted him by wrapping your arms around his neck and hitching one leg around his hip to open yourself to him. He lifted his head from your throat to glare with desire tinged with green into your eyes. "Of fucking course I'm jealous. I don't want anyone's hands on you but mine."

You shuddered in arousal when Bucky growled the word mine before taking your mouth with a ferocious kind of tenderness. He'd never kissed you like this before, with lightly punishing nips of his teeth and soothing sweeps of his tongue. His kiss, his touch held a wealth of emotion as he worshipped you with hands and lips though both also held frustration and impatience.

You pulled your mouth from his again to turn your head and take his earlobe between your teeth as he skimmed his hand up the back of your thigh and under your skirt. When his hand slowed at the discovery that you weren't wearing anything under the dress, you laughed throatily in his ear and whispered, your words and breath sending chills down his spine and making an already painful erection excruciating, "I don't know why. I would never fuck Thor in a filthy frat house closet."

The bass pumping through the wall was no match for your heart when with almost rough movements, Bucky disentangled himself from you to spin you around. Your hands came up to press against the wall as you bent to push your ass against the hard-on trying to burst from behind his zipper.

He reached behind him to grope for the doorknob, praying for a lock. “Thank god,” you heard him mutter right before his flesh hand cupped a breast while the other slipped up under your skirt to slide between your thighs. You moaned a little as Bucky nuzzled into your neck behind your ear, his breath sending goosebumps over your skin even as your hips rocked fretfully against his hand.

“Babygirl,” he purred, and you whimpered in response, "I'm not going to argue, because I'm not an asshole." As he spoke, he was arranging you just so, stepping back and pulling your hips with him as you kept your hands against the wall to brace yourself. He stayed wrapped around you, his teeth scraping over the nape of your neck. "Or an idiot. But that's not what I meant, and you know it."

The next second, he was straightening to unbutton his jeans and shove his underwear down with his metal hand. The other slipped between your legs from behind, his fingers sliding smoothly into you, wanting to feel you on his skin. Despite the quick, rough foreplay, you were already more than wet enough. It never seemed to take any time at all to get you ready, at least with him.

Bucky couldn't resist taking a moment to enjoy the feel of you, thrusting two long, rough digits gently into you, then ever so slowly pulling them from your soaking pussy. You bucked your hips in irritation when his calloused fingers began to slide slowly back into you like he had all the time in the world and wasn't banging you in a closet during a party.

"Bucky! Go-o!" You used the same childish singsong you'd always used when you were getting impatient, the same moment as Bucky was pushing his cock into you, his laugh rumbling through him and into you.

"Baby," he smirked, his voice almost aching. His fingers dug into your hips, the first thrust making you gasp. "I love when you ask for it."

A while later, Bucky covered your exit from the closet after peeking out to make sure the coast was clear. You ran to the bathroom to clean up, ruing your decision to not wear underwear when you remembered what kind of house you were in. You were closest to the half-bath near the mudroom, which turned out to be to your fortune as its out of the way location left it with plenty of tissue. Once you looked and felt presentable, you went looking for Bucky.

When you found him, he was on a couch in the den arguing with Sam as they watched the pool game/mating dance between Gamora and Quill. The moment you walked into the room, his eyes were on you and he was offering his lap for a seat with a lecherous grin. You accepted with a laughingly affectionate roll of the eyes and a light shove.

Hours later, after your own loss at beer pong to first Sam, then Bucky, you were murmuring sweet nothings in Bucky's ear as he helped you into a piggyback ride to carry you home. His immoderate chuckling in response was only made worse by the sharp look Gamora was giving him as he tried to look innocent. He didn't know if she could hear you, but he wouldn't be surprised.

By the time he was carrying you up the stairs to your apartment, you had spent the entire walk home telling him about how pretty and sexy and sweet you thought he was. Bucky was feeling mighty fine about his mission to show you how he'd changed. As Gamora had made sure he had your key to get in, he didn't even need to ask for your help.

This was undoubtedly for the best as you had made it to sleepy, too honest drunk. If you were in any fit state to be concerned, you'd have been terrified to be alone with Bucky while this particular brand of intoxication was guiding your behavior. As it was, you'd spent the time you weren't babbling sweetly at Bucky nuzzling into the back of his neck and making happy noises. He was on cloud nine.

He carried you back into your bedroom, an inner sanctum he hadn't been welcome in, in any capacity, for years. Crossing the threshold felt like destiny, but by the time he had helped you clamber down, taken off your shoes, and helped you into your bed, his heart was mush. He couldn't help it; you were adorably drunk and affectionate. He sat on the side of your bed, his hand smoothing over your forehead, marveling at the fact that he even found the crescents of your lashes beautiful as they rested against your cheeks.

"Good night, babygirl," he murmured, his hand gentle as his thumb traced the soft line of your jaw. The longing to climb in the bed with you, wrap you close and fall asleep with your breath on his skin, was almost painful. He sat for a minute with the flutter of hope in his throat that someday soon you'd allow it.

You turned your face into his palm, too sleepy, too intoxicated to hide the softness that lived inside you for him. Sighing happily, you rubbed your cheek against his hand, reveling in the sweet, tender touch. "Night, Bucky-bug."

Bucky made himself stand up, the temptation you held too great to resist much longer. As he turned to leave, his eye passed over and caught on a fifth of whiskey with his name on it sitting on your desk. The bottle was covered in sharpie, the label altered so that the O and the N in Jameson were blacked out, the word James all that was left. Under that, a skull and crossbones had been drawn, surrounded by doodles and curlicues. Almost certain he didn’t want to know but unable to stop himself, he picked up the almost empty bottle and turned to ask, “Y/N, what is this bottle?”

You pried one eye open just enough to see which bottle he held. As soon as you saw the skull, you relaxed back into the pillows and answered, thoughtlessly honest, “That's my bottle of poison, the last of the bottle that almost killed me.”

Bucky actually felt his knees buckle and he nearly dropped the bottle. In case, he set it down and braced himself on the back of the chair next to the desk. "Almost killed you?"

Your voice was utterly unconcerned as you answered. You were too drunk and too close to sleep to think about either what you were saying or who you were saying it to. Also, the only part of that night that you hadn't dealt with until recently was the damage done to your relationship with Bucky. The rest of it felt like ancient history and had no power to hurt or frighten you anymore. "When I got upset because I saw you banging some girl and I ended up in a drinking game with some asshole trying to get me drunk enough to rape me."

That took his knees out completely. He sat limply, sideways in the chair to face you. "The hospital stay." It was a statement of fact, not a question, but you answered anyway.

"Uh-huh," you replied, nodding your head on the pillow, eyes still closed, "I made it all the way to the hallway here." Your face twisted with humor and you snorted. "If you'd brought Gina back here, you'd have tripped over my ass."

Perhaps it was because your voice held no blame, no vitriol, nothing but the humor of hindsight, but your words seemed to punch even harder than if you'd been bitter or resentful. His stomach aching in remorse and regret, Bucky braced his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry, babygirl." The words were nothing, nowhere near enough. Bucky didn't know how he could ever make it up to you.

The pain in his gut only increased when you scoffed good-naturedly and moved your hand in a dismissive gesture. "It's okay." You said it cheerfully, with a sweet, happy smile on your face. Your voice softened with affection on the next words. "Steve found me before Brick did." Bucky frowned at the name but couldn’t focus when he was hearing your voice caress Steve's name.

Your face went sly and wicked. "And I have no proof, but if I found out G and Nat didn't have anything to do with that guy going down for some super serious drug charges, I'd be shocked and baffled."

On that, Bucky vaguely remembered an asshole named Brock who'd been arrested and expelled at the beginning of their sophomore year. The only reason he'd noted it at all was because Brock was the last person with whom Steve had started a fight. That wasn't to say Steve hadn't been in fights since then, but it was the last time Bucky had seen him straight start one. It had stuck out because Steve had also refused to explain himself. A lot of things that had made no sense before were falling into place. 

"Steve found you." Bucky asked the question in a voice as cold and empty as the grave. He felt like he was dying, like the future he'd allowed to dream for himself was withering in front of him. Your next words had his heart crying out in agony.

"Oh my god," you cried, your face lit like the sun with happiness and devotion as you thought about your best friend, "I love him so much. My Stevie literally saved my life." You turned onto your side and wrapped your arms around your pillow, wishing it was Bucky. You sighed, on your way to sleep and not thinking about anything but the beckoning blackness. "He's always been my knight in shining armor."

Now he knew why Steve had never made a move; you owed him a life debt. Steve was the sort of man who would always consider dynamics. The imbalance that act would have caused would have left you in charge. Steve would never make a move as long as he thought you’d say yes simply because of that imbalance.

A voice in Bucky’s head spoke up to point out that you hadn’t made a move of your own on Steve, regardless of how sweetly you said his name. Bucky knew from experience you were more than capable of making a move, and they were very pretty and effective moves at that. Instead, you’d introduced Steve to someone else, and saved those pretty moves for Bucky.

“Why do you keep the bottle out?” He felt like your answer would be either his salvation or damnation, but he needed it more than he needed his next breath.

His heart was already cracked when your lips twisted in a look of wry and affectionate exasperation he'd seen cross your face a million times, and almost always when looking at him. Your words shattered it. "To remind me that just because something feels good doesn't mean it's good for me."

In the next second, you were asleep, but if you’d opened your eyes instead, you would have seen the first tear fall from his eyes.

Part Twelve here

Taglist:

@learisa @angieptt @mia-at-work @midnightdream83 @wwecrazed2010 @allandoflimbo @emaywhyayy @cheekygeek05 @lovely-geek @diinofayce @suz-123 @hellzzzbelle @olukewarmo @fairchild21 @thefridgeismybestie @fandomsstolemylife00 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @australianhorrorstory @buckybarneshairpullingkink @c-ly-g @wishingforahome @strangersstranger @whiskeyandwashitape @eyesfixedonthesun22 @ingenue-q @joe-mazzello-is-my-dad @irritated-bisexual @fashionworld12 @lbouvet @rishlo @bibliophile1773 @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97  

[kylo-ren-writes]

Flinch

Masterlist

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Request: anon requested:

“I dont know if you are still doing requests but I have one !! Kylo x Reader where they get into an argument and the reader flitches when she thinks kylo is going to hit her ?? idrk just a thought and it ends in fluff and reassurance :))) thank you, your writing is the best !!”

Warnings: Angst, fluff, might be kinda short? (Idk, I don’t really care about word count, tbh)

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon. I liked it a lot! I hope you guys enjoy this little request, and feel free to send one in yourself, if you want! :) (Gif not mine!)

He was late again, he was always late.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you stared pointedly at the blastdoor that separates you from the hallway outside of the room you share with Kylo.

Kylo was supposed to have met you, here, ten minutes ago. Like the predictable man he was, he was not here and he was late.

Typical.

You know that he is the Supreme Leader and he has the entire First Order under his command, as well as a galaxy to rule, but he really couldn’t let general Hux do something? You barely see him as it is with both of your very time consuming schedules, so, it would be rather considerate of him if he could commit to a time to see you.

After all, you miss him like crazy.

The thought narrows in your brows and down turns the corners of your mouth as you think about the minimal amount of hours you have spent with him since he crowned himself Supreme Leader. It makes you sad.

Before, when Kylo was only the commander, he was still very busy, but you both always managed to make it work. Even with Kylo’s demanding position and his extensive, time consuming training, along with your job on the command bridge as a high ranking officer. The two of you used to spend as much time together as you could, and were always eager to do so. Now, however, it was like you were meeting him your half of the way and Kylo wasn’t moving an inch.

Did Kylo even want to spend time with you? Did he even care about you? Or, still care about you?

It was always hard to tell what exactly was swarming around inside Kylo’s mind, but now you felt like it was impossible. You just felt so out of touch with him.

Not only did it make you sad, but it also made you angry.

Your frown deepens and you chew on the inside of your cheek with a grinding force, allowing your gradual anger to stew.

This man just infuriates you at most times, but you refuse to be sad over him. Not when he wasn’t going to make time for you anymore.

Another, long, ten minutes went by when the blastdoor to your room finally opened, revealing the man, who you were now pointing daggers at, behind it.

Kylo walked in with a slight hunch, his fists balled in their typical clench against his sides as he had the audacity to stride on over to where you sat on the edge of one of the couches that filled the space of the front room.

Your arms tightened over your chest and you lifted your chin, not caring that he completely towered over you with you sitting down.

“You’re late,” you exclaim, lifting your chin up more than you would like as he draws near.

One of his dark eyebrows lift up in an almost amused expression. Although, it could hardly be called that, you just know him well enough to decipher any minuscule look conjured up on his handsome face. Stupidly handsome face.

“Only by a few minutes,” Kylo replies, and you swear you can see a smirk lifting up one of the corners of his mouth. It’s so minuscule though, you could have imagined it.

“A few minutes!” You gape at him, standing up on your feet. “It’s been twenty minutes, actually. You are twenty minutes late!” The anger that flows through you is scorching. This is serious, you’re being serious. Why can’t he take it seriously?

Kylo shrugs. “I got held up.” All of the (barely there) amusement falls from his face as he senses all the anger laced within your words.

You know you should have a clear, calm head, and not push him, because even though you can have quite the temper of your own, it’s no match against the beast, standing a few feet in front of you. Anger issues would be an understatement when describing Kylo Ren.

Rationality is not on your mind as you step closer to him with a finger pointed at his chest. “You always do this!” You exclaim. “Not only are you always late, but you are so indifferent that you don’t even care!”

Kylo’s placid expression turned into a scowl as he processed your words, a spark of anger igniting inside his chest. “I care,” he said gruffly, trying to rein in his emotions. “I’m very busy. You know that.”

“I do know how busy you are.” You take another step towards him. “I know because it seems to be the only thing you care about now.”

Kylo gives you an incredulous expression. He can’t believe you could possibly think that. “That isn’t true. Yes it takes up a lot of my time; It isn’t easy being the Supreme Leader of the First Order,” he says, fists clenching tighter by his sides. “But regardless, it isn’t the only thing I care about. You know that.”

“Do I?” You counter. “I barely see you, and when I do, you barely even make an effort.” Your finger jabs at his hard chest.

Deep down you do know how much he cares about you. But you’re angry, and stressed, and the combination of both warrant your behaviour.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Kylo snaps. he glances down at your finger, wanting to swat it away. But it’s you, and he could never hurt you or touch you in a way that wasn’t loving. Not intentionally.

You scoff and pull your hand away. “Now you think I’m being ridiculous? Why? Because I want to see the man I love every once in a while. Because, even though he doesn’t seem to give a shit about wanting to spend time with me, I still go the extra mile to see him. Is that why I’m being so ridiculous? If so, then yes, I would agree. The time I’ve wasted on you is ridiculous!”

Your words are scornful and you really don’t mean them, but they do the damage you intend to inflict.

Kylo physically recoils and his whole body goes stiff. An array of emotions flickers over his face one by one, and you immediately regret what you’ve said. 

Anger is there, but mainly hurt is what leaves him vulnerable as he glares down at you. You’re suddenly aware of how far you went. Too far. Way too far.

You take a step backwards right as he takes a step forwards, newly found fear weighing in on your body. “Kylo, I--”

Kylo shakes his head and lifts his arm up to reach out for you, but your body responds first before your head does. You can’t help but flinch at the action of Kylo lifting up his arm.

Suddenly you’re not so angry anymore and neither is Kylo as he realizes what has just transpired.

You thought that he was going to hit you for a few irrational seconds. Irrational because Kylo had never harmed you before, nor would he ever dream of it or entertain the idea. But it was too late. You flinched and cowered away from him, turning your gaze down to the floor.

That fear still lingered along with a mixture of guilt, but the anger was gone.

Kylo’s hand hovered where he had meant to reach for you, NOT to harm you. His whole body was stiff, and if he hadn’t been hurt before, he sure was now.

How could you possibly think that he could hurt you? Was your relationship really so strained? He had thought that the two of you were fine, even if he never got to spend very much time with you...

This realization hit him like a blaster shot to the chest. He was at a loss for words. “I... I could never...” he stammered, trailing off.

The man that was always so cool and confident with his words, arrogant with his posture and swift stride, was gaping at you.

You glanced up at him, seeing how hurt he was. You sighed and lifted your chin, looking up at him. “I know...” you muttered, quietly.

The silence was quiet between you, strained. Neither of you knew what to say to the other.

Kylo’s hand finally lowered back to his side, unfurled and unmoving. He visibly relaxed the slightest, but he was still wound up so tight

The truth was, the two of you had grown so distant since Kylo had become Supreme Leader. The new change and even busier lives made it so neither of you had the time to make for one another anymore. The two of you didn’t know each other anymore. Not like you had use to, anyway.

But that didn’t mean you were ready to give up on him, and your prayed to the maker that he wasn’t going to give up on you.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, your gaze softening. “I know you would never... I didn’t mean a word of what I said...”

Kylo listened, then slowly, because he didn’t want to frighten you again, he stepped closer, closing in the gap between you.

You didn’t move away, or flinch, as Kylo brought both of his arms up and wound them around you, crushing you against his chest. Leaning into him, your eyes closed on their own, and you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I could never raise a hand to you,” Kylo muttered against the top of your head where his face was pressed into. “You are the only person on this ship that I control my anger around. You’re the only person that matters...”

His words had you nodding your head along quickly. You believed every word and knew they were true.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you apologized again. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

Kylo pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then shook his, frowning. “No, you were right. Of course being the Supreme Leader isn’t more important than you, and I don’t purposely make it seem like it is, but... It’s time consuming, and there are constantly things to do. I miss you and I miss spending time with you. I really do...”

You squeezed his waist and nuzzled into his warmth. “I was insensitive about it. You work so hard, I was just... angry, and I felt... neglected.”

Kylo nods as he strokes your hair. “I’m sorry. It was never my intention to make you feel that way.” He pressed a long kiss to your head. “I love you, and I’ll try my absolute best to be with you more often.”

It was a promise that warmed your heart. You love Kylo, more than anything, and to see him actually show how much he did care about you was relieving.

“Thank you, Kylo.” You smiled into his chest. “I know you love me and I love you, so I’ll try to be more understanding as well.”

Kylo hugged you tightly to him. “You’re amazing, for putting up with me for so long.”

“I know,” you teased.

Kylo only smiled the tiniest bit while he held you in his arms. And you felt the safest you have ever been with the man you loved more than anything.

[zios-plotbun-farm]

I just had the BEST MCU Crossover Fanfic Idea ever :D

Ok so I was looking around on pinterest and was looking at a bunch of MCU fanart of IronStrange, then supreme family and then it snowballed from there. So I end up coming across a bunch of crossover fanart of all kinds which included another OTP of mine, Spidypool (and not with MCU spidy ok ew). 

I saw BBC Sherlock and Dr.Strange, Spiderverse plus Deadpool, Tony and Bruce [IronDad & BatDad], Ant-man and Night at the Museum, Tony and RDJ Sherlock, Wonder Woman and Thor, etc. 

Lots of crossovers as you can see.

So considering that in canon alternate dimensions/timelines are an actual thing I had the idea what if all these characters actually meet. Like it would be a slice of life thing focused on fluff, humor and drama. Maybe a lil angst considering I'm having it be after endgame with Tony having lived but him never having gotten together with Pepper after Civil War (so no morgan) and instead gets together with Stephen after Endgame (OTP IronStrange <3) with supreme fam [peter, harley & lil sis] and has it to where some people keep accidentally traveling dimensions or coming to theirs. 

Could possibly consequence from the time-traveling Idk or just people screwing around with shit they shouldn't or accidents all accidents lol. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If anyone takes this up they are definitely gonna have to do a ton of research or have been in all these fandoms cause wow so many characters. I have decided to write these in parts based on fandom. Although the story doesn’t have to be written in arcs since it’d probably be better as connected one shots instead.

1) Spider-verse Portion (Humor & Romance)

Starts off with Miles accidentally getting taken to the MCU dimension while trying to travel to Peter B's using a device made by Peni and ends up meeting MCU Peter. Device either is busted or malfunctions so Peter takes it and Miles to Tony for help to see if he can fix [he tries but can't which he's mad about]. 

So Tony ends up having to call in Stephen to help which gets them bickering while Stephen looks for ways to send Miles back to his home with Tony still trying to fix the gadget. Miles ends up asking Peter if they're together which Peter says no but that they have so much UST that they might as well be together. Miles sympathizes and tells him about his Spidy Mentor also doing the same with his partner Deadpool, who had when first meeting Miles, promptly said he is his and Peter's new adopted son/nephew. 

Then Peter and Miles get into a few shenanigans trying to get Tony and Stephen together after Peter asked for his help (they include the cloak too). After which Miles gets sent back, Peter goes home to tell Ned about his latest adventure and Tony & Stephen schedule a date after finding out about each others pining curtesy of 2 spider kids and cloak.

Inspiration X  X

2) Hero Dads (With Fluff & Angst)

Tony after awhile gets the device that Miles left behind to work. Although not enough to send a person through yet, but he can send a couple machines he made that he can connect to even across dimensions (may have had a little help from Stephen). 

Ends up using them to connect to the other dimensions internet to see how different they are and he first tests it in the DCverse and sees all these other heroes just like the avengers. Finds out about Batman being a billionaire (and dad) like him after using his awesome hacking skills to find out who Batman is and his fellow heroes. Ends up later messaging the man after Tony ends up being confronted by the realization he was the adopted dad of a bunch of kids (Peter, Harley + sis, Riri, Vision, FRIDAY, bots) queue inner crisis. 

Bruce is at first suspicious but then later amused after talking and messaging with Tony as they both bond over their kids. Both sharing stories, pictures, and videos about their kids then later their lives and how similar they are. They become inter dimensional pen pals and complain to each other about their fellow heroes too. 

Could be spaced out into one-shot chapters about certain topics. Like kids, childhood, their hero coworkers, maybe love lives hmmm. 

[Ok I just finished reading some Tony & Bruce fanfic and yes I now have another fav Brotp that involves Tony. It can be added with the Science Bros(Tony & Bruce.B), Iron Bros(Tony & Rhodey), and Snarky Bros(Tony & Loki)]

3)BBC Sherlock (Romance Drama & Humor)

While working on the device with Stephen besides him Tony gets visited by Everett Ross and T'Challa for 'reasons'. But something happens that causes it to malfunction for a bit and transport all those in the room to another dimension. 

They end up coming across BBC Sherlock and Watson who Strange asks if they can stay with for a bit since the group have no place to stay until Strange can get a message to Wong to help them back. Queue lots of shenanigans with alternate selves with boyfriend(s?) nearby [not sure about having everpanther or no]. 

Tony definitely flirts a little with Sherlock causing Strange to be mildly jealous and even more so when Sherlock finds some interest in Tony for how smart he is. Maybe during the stay they help solve a crime and apprehend the suspects. With Everett showing his awesome agent skills, Tony his god level hacking, T'Challa his hand to hand no suit, and Stephen his magic. 

Sherlock and Watson are totally shocked and fascinated about them. Before they return to they dimension Tony leaves a device like the one he sent to DC so that they can communicate if they ever want to.

ADD-ON: Maybe have Sherlock and Watson visit the MCUverse at some point and have them get into an adventure with Strange and Ross. Lots of magic and gun fights abound poor Sherlock and Watson too much chaos in this universe. lol

Inspiration X  X  

4)RDJ Sherlock

Tony finally gets the device to work complete and begs Stephen to go with him to test it out just in case it can't do a return trip. Stephen reluctantly agrees and Tony ask him to look for a dimension that has a look alike of him since last time they meet one of Stephen's. 

So Stephen decides to be cheeky and takes him to the one where now Tony's look alike is Sherlock. Tony finds this hilarious and gets along with him while Stephen regrets his decision cause he wanted to get payback for the flirting last time but that didn't work. Queue Tony and Sherlock getting into shenanigans while Stephen and Watson try to rein them in (and falling). They then use the device to return home after maybe solving a crime or two with Sherlock.

5) Night at the Museum (Humor)

After hearing about the alternate dimensional shenanigans Tony, Peter and others have been going on. Scott is quite curious and asks Peter to ask about his own counterpart and so Peter offers to see about look into it with the help of Miles (they have been keeping in touch through Tony's devices). 

After the talk they go looking to for a dimension but end up accidentally activating the transportation function which takes Scott, Cassie and Peter to the Night at the Museum dimension. There they end up meeting Larry and his son who had come to visit the museum and get talking. 

Larry decides to show Scott and others what happens after dark in the museum with the help of Tilly and Mr. McPhee. Considering that Peter was able to send a message to Tony about what happen and when they can come back they were okay to stay a night before leaving.  

Inspiration X

6)Thor's Foodie Friend (slice of life & fluff)

At some point Thor ends up interrupting Tony while he was talking with Bruce and gets introduced to his fellow billionaire/hero. Bruce then ends up mentioning Diana aka Wonder Woman after remembering what Tony said about the God and how similar the two are. Thor is intrigued and wishes to meet her and so Tony let's him borrow a second device he made after Bruce gives Wonder Woman another device that Tony made to pair with Thor's. They end up being buddies like Tony and Bruce and talk about all the weird cultural stuff they have learned and still are after living on earth. 

Don't have much ideas for this one since I don't know much of Thor or Diana ^_^;

7) MCU Actors (Humor, Drama, Angst, Fluff & Romance just every thing   >.<)

This is Tony just screwing around with the device until he ends up stumbling across a dimension where there are no heroes at all and everyone he knows are actors instead (essentially its like Supernatural but with MCU instead). He starts looking through their internet cause his interest is peak which is where he finds out that in that dimension his and everyone's lives are movies and comics. 

Which he finds both disturbing and yet awesome at the same time although he finds its not completely the same considering the ending and who he ended up with. (Later learns its based on the main dimension that their world branched off of. He's so glad they aren't the main one.) 

This could then have one-shots about multiple characters seeing all the fandom stuff they have based off them in this other world. You know conventions, cosplay, AMVs, fanfiction etc. Possible have some kind of viewing night to see stuff with everyone together. Maybe at some point they get the smart (dumb) idea to travel to that world to talk to their actor counterparts. [Those being Tony, Loki, Stephen, Steve, Bucky, Thor, Peter and who ever is a fun idea to write] Maybe even attend an actual convention in that dimension by replacing their actor selves for fun and also bring those conventions back as ways for good PR who knows. 

[God so many interesting ideas I have that I’ll never write ugh]

And that’s all I got for this mass crossover fic that kicked me over the head and wouldn’t leave me until I wrote it out phew~ 

Anyone interested or wanting to write this can just message a link or add it onto this post I want to read them. :D

[delia-pavorum]

59.“Why are you hiding behind me? What did you do this time?”

Thanks for the prompt, anon! This one took an angst-y turn and was initially inspired by @cosmo-gonika​‘s speculation re: Ep IX and a potential Reylo baby. Then, it all spun out of control with the Reddit “leaks” and further speculation and, anyway, this is what you get when my brain explodes.

Hope my nonny prompter enjoys and all of you do, too! 

The voices droned on around him as he allowed his mind to wander.

It was easy enough to feign interest or the barest amount of attentiveness. A well-placed nod, a cool, fixed look. He had achieved much success over the years in allowing others to believe they were in charge, while only he truly held the reins.

Yes, much success. In many areas.

He fixated on his leather clad hand, watching as it slowly curled into a fist, almost of its own volition.

Many areas. Except for the one that counted.

They called him a benevolent leader. Some even touted him as the ‘saviour of the galaxy’. Many followed willingly after seeing the benefits that would arise from doing so and appreciating that the punishments to the contrary were no longer so severe. Some even disparaged those who would think to resist – ‘Extremists’, they called them. ‘Self-serving fundamentalists.’ The Resistance had lost its rosy hue in the eyes of the people. Too fanatical now to be commonplace. Rebels in a universe where rebellion was unnecessary.

Kylo Ren sympathized, truly he did. He knew how it felt to be on the wrong side of history. To fight on the losing end of a war and, as time passed, to get further and further from your end goal. Like being swept out to sea in an undertow, powerless to fight against the raw strength of an entity so much more formidable than you.

Yes. He knew that feeling well.

He turned a baleful eye onto the standing, sermonizing form of General Hux, datacron open and projecting yet another galaxy map over the long, duraglass table. Kylo sat at the head, while other generals, admirals, and captains of the First Order occupied the other seats along the length.

Another speech, glorifying the First Order. Exalting the work they had done. Reveling in the planets they had converted. Extolling the virtues of their regime. Condemning and deriding the continued existence of the Resistance, pitiful as it was. “Not for much longer,” they promised each other. “Not for much longer.”

Kylo had to agree, but it left a sour pit in the bottom of his stomach. They didn’t know. None of them did. There was more to the Resistance than the meagre remains of a rebellion. Than the ashes of its predecessors. Something buried in its depths. Something there that mattered.

More than anything else.

As if on cue, he felt the infinitesimal shift in the air. The scattering of ions, the rippling of space and time. Sound muting, as if sucked into a vacuum.

No, he thought, even as his heart soared. Not now. His eyes surreptitiously scanned the room, though his expression divulged nothing.

Then he heard it, coming from his left, beelining towards his chair.

He resisted the urge to turn around, instead clenching his jaw until his teeth ground together and keeping his curled fists on the glass in front of him.

The noise came closer.

Suddenly, his chair titled backwards abruptly. He had to move with the motion, acting as though he were simply leaning back into a more comfortable position. He could feel the erratic thuds of scrambling and kicking feet, with the minute sound of a struggle, clear in its grunts and sharp exhales. A weight settled heavily on the back of his seat, close to the top where his head peaked over slightly. He could feel warm breath on his ear. Still, he could not risk looking behind him, even though every fibre of his being screamed at him to turn around—

“Oh, hi, papa.”

His lips twitched involuntarily.

“Hey…hi,” the little voice whispered once more.

The mechanics of the Force Bond were difficult for a four-year-old to understand fully. Even an adult could have trouble comprehending that there was a room full of people who could neither see nor hear them. The little one understood well enough that she likely would not be seen by others, but, moreso, she understood that she wasn’t allowed to be seen. That was why she tended to lower her voice, affecting a four-year-old’s understanding of a whisper (typically just a slightly quieter version of her normally boisterous tone) during the moments when she caught him with other people.

He cleared his throat and shifted slightly in his seat. He made a movement, bringing his right hand over his left shoulder like he was adjusting his cape, and furtively wiggled his pointer finger near his ear. It successfully made contact with a tiny nose and he was rewarded with a giggle. His centre of gravity shifted again with the movement of his chair and he looked down to see five little toes attached to a small foot land in his lap. The foot was attached to a leg, followed by a torso, followed by two gangly arms and a tousled head of dark black curls hiding a cherubic face, but not quite hiding the tips of two perfect, shell-like ears, slightly too big for such a tiny head.

His daughter looked up at him then and his breath caught, like it always did.

I don’t see you enough, he thought ruefully. My beautiful girl.

She looked bigger since the last time he had seen her, only a week prior. He knew it was likely impossible, but it still felt like he had missed something, that he was missing so much—

“Supreme Leader?” a nasally voice interrupted his perusal of his daughter’s freckles as she smiled up at him, dimples and gapped baby teeth prominent. She may have his ears and hair, possibly even his lanky form, but her face was purely her mother’s. Toothy, fresh, dimpled, freckled, and sweet. A ray of sunshine.

They both turned to look at Hux, who was glaring over his nose at Kylo expectantly.

“That will be all, General.” Kylo’s words held a finality to them. The man knew, very well, that he was being dismissed.

Still, he spluttered, colour raising from his neck towards his face. “But—you didn’t address my concerns regarding—”

“I said—” Kylo pointedly shifted so he sat tall in his seat and his daughter mimicked the action, glaring coolly at the general in an imitation of her father. “—we are finished here.”

Hux glowered at him, his ire emanating from his body with every second that passed. Still, a rabid cur, even barely tamed, knew its place. “Very well,” he clipped. “We will continue this discussion at a later date.” With that, he clicked the datacron closed abruptly, the room once again taking on the tepid glow of its regular lighting rather than the ethereal radiance of the holo, then turned sharply on his heel and stalked out. The others followed in short order, most unwilling to make even the briefest eye contact with him as they scattered. Once the last subordinate had left, Kylo relaxed into his seat and smiled down at the little girl in his arms, finally able to fold her up against his body and press her head into his chest. He kissed her tousled curls as he held her close.

“Hello, my girl,” he rumbled. “Why were you hiding behind me earlier? What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Nothing, papa, I swear it!” came the innocent reply, an angelic face belying the true nature of mischief that lurked beneath the surface.

“Eliana Reya Solo!”

As always, Kylo’s heart leapt at his daughter’s full name. Meaning ‘gift’ and ‘queen’, he found it so fitting that she should have those names; and to be named for her mother as well as her father, a symbol of the good they could do when brought together.

They had both heard the echoing voice before the body manifested. Of course, the bond had remained open and, as such, the ones who were capable of using it had access to its passageways. This meant—

Yes. There she was.

Rey appeared out of the corner of his eye like an avenging angel, striding limbs and flowing hair. Her true origin remained a mystery, but soon she was standing before him as though she were there in flesh and blood. And, for all intents and purposes, she was.

Ah, but they knew that well, didn’t they?

She frowned at the two of them, arms crossed, jaw ticking.

“Eliana,” she scolded, “you know you’re not supposed to do this.” She refused to look directly at Kylo. “It’s not safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Kylo retorted, offended. As if he would let anything happen—

“It’s not,” Rey insisted, meeting his eyes for the first time, a wealth of weariness and sadness behind the hazel irises. “We still don’t know the mechanics of it all. If she gets seen somehow, or stuck, or ends up somewhere where she shouldn’t, with neither you or I there to protect her—” She broke off, shaking her head, overcome. “It’s too risky,” she said finally.

He sighed, suddenly exhausted. His daughter looked between the two of them, eyes wide.

“And also, little miss,” Rey continued, softening her tone, crouching lower to be eye-level with the little girl in Kylo’s lap, “You can’t just use your papa as an escape every time you know you’re going to get in trouble. Those staffs weren’t for you to play with. They aren’t toys.”

“I just wanted one,” came the return grumble in a little voice. “To train with you, mama.”

Rey’s expression softened further and the corners of her mouth deepened in a frown. “I know, baby. And I’m sorry I’m so busy.”

“Maybe,” Kylo spoke up, before really considering his words, “maybe she can stay here for a bit—?”

“Ben.” Rey closed her eyes on an exhale and shook her head as their daughter chirped with glee and Kylo realized his tactical error.

“Yes! Yes!” she cried, throwing her arms around her father’s neck. “Can I please? Can I stay with papa for a bit? And mama, you stay, too! And we can all stay together, in one place, the way we belong.”

Kylo’s gaze met Rey’s over their daughter’s head, his expression ravaged, Rey’s eyes already swimming with unshed tears.

“Soon, my love,” Kylo whispered against dark curls. “Soon we’ll be all together, the way we belong.” He repeated her words back to her, like a mantra.

Eliana pulled away with a pout. “That’s what you always say. Soon, soon. Soon takes too long! I’m already four-years-old, papa!”

Kylo flinched like he’d been hit by a blaster. “I know, sweetheart. I know. I’m sorry, I—” His voice cracked and Rey abruptly turned around and walked a few steps away from them. Kylo could see her shoulders shudder briefly. “I wish things could be different. Could work faster. But your mama and I, we’re trying. We’re trying to get our family together again. I promise you that. You just have to wait a bit longer.”

Eliana heaved out a sigh with the level of exasperation only a four-year-old could manage. “Fine. But only a bit longer, got it?”

Kylo let out a chuckle, even as he looked up and willed his tears to dry. “Got it, my girl. You go with your mama now, okay? I’ll come see you soon. Don’t try and come to me again, alright? Mama is right, it’s not safe enough. Let me come see you instead. Promise?”

“I promise, papa!” Eliana wrapped her small, sinewy arms around her father’s neck and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, papa. And I miss you all the time,” she added, in the innocently gut-wrenching way only a child is capable of, wrapping her arms tighter around him and burying her face in his neck.

He choked back a sob and hugged her back tightly, closing his eyes and breathing in her scent. His baby. His sweet girl. Getting bigger each day – and him, not around to see it. Just like his father before him. A shudder ran through his entire body with the effort to keep from breaking down.

He felt a gentle, but firm hand on his shoulder. Slowly he looked up to catch Rey’s watery eyes with his own.

She gave him a small, sad smile. Soon.

He nodded, not sure if either of them really believed it. Kissing his daughter a final time on one of her perfect ears, he relinquished his hold on her.

Rey hoisted her into her own arms and moved back as the little girl steadied herself in her mother’s hold.

“Bye, papa,” she said glumly, resting her head on Rey’s shoulder.

“Bye, my girl,” he rasped, touching his fingers to his lips. “My girls.” He looked at Rey.

Her lips quivered and she looked away.

“Be safe,” he whispered, looking at her pleadingly.

She nodded. “Always.” She glanced down at her daughter, then around the room, as though someone was waiting to burst out of the shadows and catch them unawares. Finally, she looked up at Kylo.

He knew that look.

He stood as she met him in two strides and he wrapped his arms around her, around them both, and Rey tangled one hand into his hair and they held their daughter between them as their lips met in a scorching kiss, tongues stroking, teeth clacking, tasting like joy and sorrow and heartbreak and hope.

And over too soon.

Kylo allowed Rey to pull back and she settled back down to the flats of her feet. He stole one more kiss, a soft one, this one conveying security and familiarity, a “see you soon” or a “goodnight”. The little comforts that they had yet to be afforded, but that they hoped, someday, they could look forward to.

Adjusting Eliana in her arms once more, she took a few stumbling steps back and closed her eyes. Kylo knew she was preparing to close the bond, knew that she had some power in controlling it, just as he did now.

“I love you,” he blurted out, before she could disappear. “I miss you. God, I miss you.”

Her eyes snapped open as twin tears streaked down her cheeks in unison.

And then they were gone.

now what? –> see all my prompt fills | fic master post | ask me anything

[twilightshq]

****** -- alice, leah & tanya - Today at 12:26 AM

come join twilightshq -- where angst reins supreme

if this isn’t convincing enough to join us, idk what is ! we’d love to have you !!

[kylo-ren-writes]

Gone

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Request: anon requested:

“Can I request a fiction where the reader goes missing. Smoke thinks the reader is a distraction from Kylo so he sends the reader away without giving him the slightest idea. So he obviously goes searching for the reader and this the reader becomes an even bigger distraction for Kylo. Basically fluff and sadness.”

Warnings: uhh, angst-ish, sadness I suppose.

Tag List: @beautifulbows924 @celestiaelisia @bluudhavens @majestic-sith-queen @just-another-starwars-fangirl

A/N: here you go anon, I truly hope you enjoyed! This is the first detailed fic I’ve written in a while and it feels good to post it. (Gif not mine!)

Kylo could feel it the moment that it had happened, or rather, when the exact moment Snoke had allowed him to.

The moment Kylo could no longer feel your presence on board of the giant star destroyer, it had felt like his dark world was crumbling beneath him, sending him falling down into a pit of even more darkness—fueled by an uncontrollable rage.

Behind his emotionless mask, or emotion concealing helmet, Kylo was left stunned and almost vulnerable, seething underneath the thing that hid his identity and struck fear into the hearts of anybody.

Kylo was a force to be reckoned with on his own, but as soon as he felt that emptiness within the force that your presence and energy had once occupied, he was a typhoon of emotion and rage.

Fortunately for everyone else, Kylo had been stalking down a corridor on his way to see the man he was whirling towards now. No one had been near him so no one had gotten hurt, and anyone that was near him now got out of the way before the storm rained down upon them.

It wasn’t hard for Kylo to immediately figure out who had been responsible for your disappearance. Snoke had been warning him for months.

Anything that Snoke deemed “distracting” to Kylo’s training was immediately taken away from him, and Kylo was reminded of who he was and his legacy. It had happened before in the past with smaller things and now it was happening with something that Kylo valued more than anything. You.

At first, Snoke used you as an incentive for Kylo to train harder. You were his reward after a long day and someone he looked forward to seeing after working so hard to where he was now. But it didn’t take long for Snoke to begin to see you as something that stood in the way of Kylo’s training, which is why he had you sent away.

Kylo boarded the lift that would bring him up to his masters throne room. He used the short amount of time to try and rein in his emotions so he wouldn’t explode. It was difficult for him, but Kylo thought about you and how you always managed to calm him down. It helped a little.

When the lift came to a stop, Kylo had clenched fists and a stiff posture.

The doors opened to reveal the deformed figure of Snoke sitting on his throne. It almost seemed like he never left that over-sized chair with how he was always seated there.

Kylo started forward, seeing red figuratively and literally. Snokes throne room did have a splash of red to it along with the praetorian guards that lined the outer walls of the room, ready to attack and defend their Supreme Leader from an attack. That idea was enough to keep the seething knight from lashing out.

Snoke eyed Kylo as he stalked forward, noticing the stiffness of his walk and the clenched fists. He already knew why Kylo was here, or rather knew why his apprentice was filled with such rage. It amused him.

When he was close enough to the taller man, Kylo bent down on one knee out of respect and submission, even though he very badly wanted to show defiance. But he was here for a reason.

“Kylo Ren,” Snoke spoke first in a sort of greeting to his apprentice. He had a curl to his lips, a mock smile or even a sneer. Both were applicable.

Kylo had his neck bent so his gaze was to the floor. He stayed silent, another form of respect that he did not feel towards the man before him at this exact moment. He was careful to hide that feeling, to lock it away in the deepest parts of his mind.

Snokes long, bony fingers curled around the armrests of his throne as he gazed down at Kylo. “Do tell me what has gotten you in such turmoil,” Snoke mused. He was mocking Kylo.

Lifting his head up to look at the man, Kylo tried not to point him with a glare even though he wouldn’t be able to see it. It was more of a way for Kylo to remember to stay in control of his emotions. “The girl... she is gone. I no longer sense her presence on this ship.”

“Ahh,” Snoke lifted a bushy brow. “I sent her away. She’s gone.” Snoke almost sounded bored, emphasizing how much he did not care for you or your life in the slightest.

Meanwhile, Kylo felt his heart drop. He felt his stomach fall into his abdomen and the familiar taste of bile burn his esophagus as it threatened to spew out of his mouth. His fists clenched harder than they had ever before, or at least that’s what it felt like.

“But master,” Kylo tried to keep his tone level. “Why?” He knew better than to question his master, but Kylo had a feeling that Snoke would allow it. He was enjoying this too much.

Snoke leaned forward the slightest in his throne, a smirk on his deformed face while the rest of him stayed impassive. “She was a distraction.”

He said it so casually, as if he were relaying to Kylo a mission he was supposed to complete, and not like he was ripping out what was there of Kylo’s cold heart.

Kylo didn’t really have the words. He had already known this in the back of his mind, but hearing his master say it out loud was a completely different feeling.

Kylo rose from his kneeling position on the floor, slowly so as not to startle the guards that watched the ticking time bomb before them. The emotions he was feeling were almost crippling; a mess of anger, loss, and despair. Snoke knew how important you had been to him, this was only a mere power play.

“The girl wasn’t a distraction,” Kylo nearly growled. “I still did everything you asked. I worked harder, I—“

“Enough,” Snoke bellowed, effectively cutting Kylo off. His bushy brows were turned down in disapproval. He wasn’t going to listen to Kylo’s desperate whining over a useless girl. And deep down Kylo knew that you really did not serve much of a purpose to his training or the First Order. But you weren’t necessarily a distraction either. All you did was give Kylo happiness, but Snoke preferred his apprentice angry and always on the verge of a tantrum.

When Kylo stayed quiet and could no longer control the anger that flowed through his body from head to toe, and his ragged breathing was audible through his helmet, Snoke spoke again.

“The girl is gone and you will devote all of your attention into completing your training.” Snoke said it in a way that meant it was final, something Kylo found hard to accept. He leaned back into his throne, the grip he had on the arms of it relaxing.

Kylo hesitated, his chest heaving. This wasn’t final, this was not how it was going to be. He was going to find you, to bring you back or take you somewhere where you would be safe. He was going to, he had to. But could he? Could Kylo even find you? He would certainly try and he would be distracted, too. Fuck Snoke.

“Yes, master,” Kylo faked submission. He hid whatever sense of defiance that had snaked its way into his mind away from Snoke.

When Snoke looked over his young apprentice and decided that Kylo had indeed been genuine, something Kylo put into the fore front of his mind, Snoke nodded in approval and dismissal.

Kylo turned on his heel and stalked away, quickly into the safety of the lift that would carry him away from his prying master. He didn’t even glimpse at the man before the doors closed in front of him and he was heading downwards. But he did keep his mind clear, knowing Snoke could pry into his mind and sense his betraying emotions easily and whenever he wanted. Kylo would keep them away until he was at a decently safe distance from the man.

When the doors to the lift began to open, signalling that Kylo was safely below, he didn’t wait for them to open completely as he slipped through. That same anger from before still coursed through his body, but he had a new objective in his mind. His training was forgotten and instead the image of you replaced it.

Fuck his training and job and Snoke. Kylo was going to find you or at least he was going to try. Snoke wasn’t going to take you away from him, or at least that’s what Kylo thought and was determined to think.

For the next three weeks after his encounter with Snoke, Kylo abandoned his training and devoted all of his time to trying to find you. He went to planets, rifled through the minds of officers and stormtroopers, threatened higher ranks, and even went to General Hux to find any ounce of information on where Snoke had ordered you to be taken to.

Snoke didn’t even interfere with Kylo’s newfound mission. He never once sent for his apprentice or try to communicate with him through the force. Kylo felt it odd that Snoke wasn’t angry, but he didn’t devote much attention or thought to it. He was too busy searching for you.

Kylo went through weeks of sleep deprivation and skipping meal times as he investigated any and every lead, no matter how minuscule. The force user was beginning to grow frustrated and agitated as almost two months went by with not a single clue of where you were being kept.

Even though Kylo couldn’t just seek you out through the force, he could still feel you. You were still alive and, from what he could tell, unharmed. So, he knew that you weren’t dead or gone. He also knew that it was most likely a trick, curtesy of Snoke.

Kylo knew how Snoke’s mind worked. He knew every trick and eyebrow twitch. Every purpose behind his actions and ever meaning behind his words. Kylo knew that this trick of being able to feel you but not find you was another way of controlling him, and maybe he was playing right into it. But he had to find you. He had to.

The idea of finding you was beginning to dim, however, as more weeks passed. Kylo wasn’t anywhere in his search. He had no leads, no more ideas, no more suspects, or even an ounce of an idea of where you could possibly be. It was beginning to feel futile and hopeless.

Maybe Kylo was never going to find you. Maybe this was the point, why Kylo hadn’t heard a single word from his master in two months.

Snoke’s game.

Kylo stalked down the hallway towards the lift that he hadn’t been to in what felt like forever. He was tired and disheveled, and most of all he felt broken and empty. His missed you, dare he say, and the effect you had on him. He missed returning to his room where he knew you were, and the smile that would transform your features into the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Kylo missed every single part of you, and with you gone and the search to find you seemingly pointless, Kylo felt broken down.

The doors to the lift opened and Kylo stepped inside, facing them as they closed. He could feel the pressure of himself being lifted up, his body stiffening at the thought of what was to come. His mind was blank, however, he truly had nothing to think about or have anxiety over. Not anymore, not with you gone.

Kylo’s attention fell onto the familiar man that he had not seen in a while as the doors opened to reveal the red room. He was no longer seeing the red figuratively, only literally now, with the same praetorian guards in their places.

Snoke sat at the center of it all, like he always did, watching his apprentice as he walked towards him. He enjoyed seeing how physically broken down Kylo was and the toll of his pointless search of you had taken on him.

Yes months of training had been wasted. Yes Kylo had lost a bit of that muscle he had built up over the years, and yes so much valuable time had been lost. But it was all worth it. To see Kylo now, the consequences of his defiance towards his master, the agonizing toll it had taken on him, mentally, physically, and most importantly, emotionally, was all worth it to the withered looking man in the throne. Every single bit of it.

Kylo kneeled down in front of Snoke, a reflexive act of submission and respect he had grown used to. It was still something he truly did not feel, though. But then again, Kylo didn’t feel much of anything right now.

Snoke waited a few long minutes as he just gazed down at Kylo, observing his handiwork. Everything had been on purpose and every play in this game he had created had been calculated. The only person that knew about your location was Snoke himself. Anyone else had been terminated long ago, and Kylo kept you alive only to torture Kylo with the idea that you were “out there.”

Even though Kylo knew Snoke fairly well, he hadn’t known any of that. Snoke had counted on it, to be blinded and distracted by you. To make a point.

“Are you done?” Snoke asked almost bitterly, his same bushy brows narrowed in to show his disapproval of the knight, even though Kylo had his head bowed.

Kylo swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat, suddenly feeling so tired. More tired than he had ever felt before. Was he done? He knew exactly what Snoke was asking. Was Kylo done searching for you? Was he done tormenting himself over trying to desperately find you, knowing in the back of his mind that it was hopeless. That if Kylo manages to find you then it would only be because Snoke allowed it. Was he done? The answer was a painful yes.

“Yes, master.” Kylo didn’t hesitate this time over the words. It was pointless to continue his search for you, he knew this now, no matter how he felt.

Smirking in satisfaction, Snoke nodded. “Good. You will begin your training tomorrow and you will make up for the time you wasted,” he sneered at the last part. “If you fail me again, there will be harsher consequences.”

Kylo lifted his head to look up at his master, no more anger or defiance left in his weakened body. This is where Snoke wanted him to be. Kylo knew that now. He couldn’t win or lose, only be controlled. And controlled he would be.

“I will not fail you again, master.”