#Terrors Of The Inky Past AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sheepwithspecs · 1 year

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|| PLvsAA || Rated T || Series: Bell Tower AU ||

Ao3 Link

It was perfectly possible to fantasize about someone without ever wanting to act on those fantasies. Surely it was no different than daydreaming about a celebrity, or a handsome model in a magazine.

At the end of the day, the fact that she knew him personally meant nothing… right?

Her world is aflame, and the sight takes her breath away.

The creature stretches twenty, thirty feet high—towering over the thatched roofs, tall as the bell tower itself. Black armor shines with a lacquer finish, shimmering in the heat. Golden accents melt in thin rivulets down its torso, dripping form the gnarled talons as though drawn with a pointed brush. The ruby eye in the center of its chest weeps molten tears. It is Bezella’s envoy, her golem… her pet beast.

Some tales claim it to be the soul of the First Knight to stand up against the Great Witch’s wrath. Captured and tortured into insanity, it has become a wraith hellbent on vengeance against the very people it once protected. Others say that it is naught but a mindless apparition, a construct born of hate, deception, and all the vile things roaming just out of sight in the shadows. Something with no will of its own, beyond that of its evil mistress. It is rumored that to meet its heated gaze is to be frozen with terror, unable to escape. Death is rumored to live in those glowing embers.

Awestruck, she watches as the familiar skyline becomes a crumbling void of ash and anguish. The sulfur-laden breeze whips at her skirts, heat scorching her bare cheeks. Run, the wind seems to whisper. Its voice is the dry crackle of lit kindling. You are not immune to the flames. The skin crawls on her wrist, the echo of past flames licking a burning trail beneath her sleeve. Run, or it will be too late.

“Too late….” The words seem to snag on her parched lips. Barely audible over the crackling roar of burning wood, they are quickly swept up in the inferno. It is already too late for her; she is not afraid of this creature that stalks the burning streets, each thunderous step rumbling in the pit of her stomach. Quite the opposite, in fact: she finds herself enamored by the sight of something so majestic, so destructive.

The armored figure lifts an arm and, with a single, powerful sweep of its sword, sets another row of homes alight. The force of its blow is a scorching wind, nearly strong enough to send her flying. For one glorious moment her skirts are weightless, her veil fluttering behind her. She cannot help but gasp in sheer delight.

The sound alerts the fiend to her presence and it turns, fixing its sights on her. Flaming orbs in the otherwise inky darkness of its helmet, flickering with a preternatural glow. Her own eyes are hidden behind the golden helm on her brow, but she nevertheless sucks in a sharp breath as she is pinned beneath the force of that burning gaze.

The figure retraces its steps, the fiery folds of its burning cloak spreading on the wind. The first step nearly sets her teeth to chattering, windows in the nearby houses cracking and bursting with the force. It seems to both shrink and expand in the wavering heat, filling her gaze and yet growing smaller with each step. By the time it stands before her it is man-sized, though still tall enough that she must tilt her head to meet its eyes.

My love. Her mouth forms the words, hands lifting in supplication—a silent plea. The golden joints of her gauntlets catch the firelight, glowing like gemstones. Heedless of her own safety, she throws her arms around the burning mantle, pressing herself against the ebony armor in a passionate embrace… and burns.

The gauntlets should have protected her hands, but the armor sears her palms with hellish fury. It is the icy heat of burning water the moment before pain makes itself known, her nerves screaming a plea to retreat. She does not listen, does not care, clinging tightly despite the pain; self-preservation is somehow not as important as the desperate need to be wholly consumed.

Her lips press fervent kisses to the black helmet, smears of lipstick decorating the melting golden scrolls. Each kiss is like the nip of a candle snuffed between her fingers, a sharp caress that prevents her from lingering as long as she’d like. Strong arms crush her against the metal plating and she hisses, part pain and part pleasure.

“Please.” She scratches at its shoulders, the grating screech of metal on metal as she claws with feverish abandon. This burning demon is the only one who can fill the yawning void within her, set fire to her nerves so that even it hurts—even if she goes mad with the pain—it would at least be something beyond the numb emptiness that envelops her heart. “Please.” A rumbling growl is all the reply she can hope for, an unsettling sound that sets her heart aquiver… though not with fear.

Mindless and frantic, disregarding the pain in her fingers, she lifts the helmet from its head. Scorching lips find her own and she is filled with a very different sort of fire, molten heat pooling in her stomach. Hands fist roughly in her skirts, teeth dragging over her pulse through the thin fabric of her veil. She squirms in the iron grip, panting as she surrenders herself to this merciless creature.

Poor thing. She can no longer tell if the voice is on the wind, or within her own mind. If witches are indeed destined for the flames, then perhaps this is the most fitting end for you. Burning alive in the arms of a fiend. Her head falls back, a broken moan dying in her chest as teeth sink into her throat. A rush of crimson joins the molten gold pooling at her feet. Blood money, she thinks fuzzily, tangling her fingers in the flaming cloak.

Her skin blisters in the heat, yet her body grows cool as the demon drinks her lifeblood. She gazes absently at the heavens, the stars veiled in smoke. Was this what the saints felt in their ecstasies? Reclined in the arms of angelic messengers, witness to tableaus kept hidden from the mortal gaze? She closes her eyes, content to revel in the blissful scene. Two figures in her mind’s eye, clasped in a lover’s embrace, outlined by a curtain of flames.

The Great Witch and the Envoy, forever intertwined.

Eve woke with a gasp, sweat beading on her brow.

For a moment she lay frozen, unable to get her bearings in the unfamiliar darkness. Her eyes were still dazzled by phantom flames that, even now, seemed to dance in the folds of the curtains drawn across the far window. Her heart beat out of time, fists clenched in the bedsheets.

A familiar snore, half-muffled behind the closed bedroom door, cut through her fear like a knife. All at once she remembered exactly where she was: one of the private Labrelum suites, usually reserved for visiting employees from the overseas branches. The meeting with Project Labyrinthia’s chief financial backer had ran late and she found it much easier to crash here, rather than be sandwiched in a helicopter between Cantabella and— She winced as another snore, louder than the first, trailed off into a sleepy grunt.

There’s no reason for you to stay. Go home.

I’m not leaving.

Unless you rent a hotel room, you’ll be stuck on the sofa.

…I’m fine with that.

“Idiot,” she muttered, more to herself than to the obstinate man spending the night on cheap vinyl cushions. She wiped the sweat from her face with both hands, an unbidden sigh escaping her chapped lips. It was only a bad dream after all. Normally, it was an easy manner for her to avoid dreaming; she merely ensured that she was exhausted by the time she collapsed into her bed. For Eve, dreams meant coming face to face with memories that she would have rather kept hidden from sight.

But that dream had been different. That was no memory; that was… that was… what was that? Frowning, she plucked at the damp sheets as they stuck to her skin. The impromptu decision to stay in London had meant she’d been left with no choice but to sleep in her underwear. Ever the gentleman, Barnham had loaned her the use of his dress shirt. It was better than nothing, but she still missed the cool, crisp texture of her well-starched nightgown. Kicking off the sheet, she quickly unbuttoned the shirt and let it fall to her sides.

Bared and shivering in the night air, she let her thoughts wander the fragmented pieces of her lost dream. Of all the things to dream about, why the Envoy? That was about as ridiculous as dreaming of Bezella herself. The Great Witch’s pet demon was no portent of fiery doom: it was just another one of Zack’s multiple roles. Not having the same dramatic flair for long-winded soliloquies, he preferred instead to play silent roles outside the confines of the Witch’s Court.

The Envoy was one of his easiest roles to assume; the Labyrinthians were all but guaranteed to be terrified out of their wits by the mere mention of a sighting. All he needed to do was look menacing and swing his sword, maybe growl a few death threats if the crowd was feeling particularly courageous. The ink handled the rest, filling in the gaps. The people did not see a man in a suit of armor. They saw the personification of the Great Witch’s wrath.

At least, that’s what she assumed. She had no way of knowing what exactly the Labyrinthians saw, other than general details that had crept into the fabric of their culture: a suit of black armor, a flaming mantle, eyes that glowed like embers, a sword forged of hellfire. Eve trembled, a curious thrill raising the hair on her arms. The creature in her dream would have frightened any normal person. She knew that she ought to have been frightened. Instead, she had all but swooned in its burning embrace.

Are you really about to unpack this now? At 2:30 am?

Eve flipped onto her stomach, burying her face into the cool side of the understuffed pillow. Tomorrow was a Parade day, which meant that the two of them would need to be back in Labyrinthia well before noon in order to keep general suspicion low. High Inquisitor Darklaw could not been seen with bags under her eyes; and yet here she was, wide awake, practically vibrating with anxious energy.

“Ugh.” She groaned, pressing her face even deeper into the flimsy pillow. Outside, the vinyl cushions squeaked as Barnham turned over. An aching loneliness filled her at the sound. In the past, she wouldn’t have thought twice about waking him and asking that he sit with her until she could manage to drift off. On the nights when she was unable to sleep, it was always a comfort to know that he was next to her, stretched out atop the blankets and well within arm’s reach. But since Espella’s trial, a strange gulf had risen between them—one she had no clue how to breach.

It's all his fault, she grumbled to herself. It was the same excuse she’d made time and time again in the weeks following the trial. He had been the one to say—to promise—that they’d talk later. But ‘later’ had never arrived, and now she couldn’t bring up the incident in the broom closet without feeling awkward and out of place.

Admittedly, she hadn’t made it easy for him to get her alone. When they were in the Court office, she insisted he speak only when the subject was Labyrinthian business. In the throne room, she had ears for no one but the Shades. Any other time, she found that she could hardly bear the tense, uncomfortable silence. More often than not, she made excuse to leave within five minutes or less.

He seemed to be waiting for her to approach the subject; she, on the other hand, refused to be the first to speak. She couldn’t look at him without remembering the gentle way he’d spoken her given name, or how soft his lips had felt beneath her fingertips, and how frantic her poor heart had been, and how the bag had dropped from her shoulder, ruining—no, rescuing—no—

Ugh! She growled, kicking the mattress with her heels as loudly as she dared. Why can’t I get his stupid face out of my head?! Two months had passed since the trial, but she still couldn’t think about him without being flooded with all sorts of confusing, conflicting emotions. On the surface, nothing had changed. They continued to work together to carry out the Storyteller’s will, walking the razor-thin line between heroes and villains in their turn. They consigned witches to a fiery grave, and resurrected them as ink stained ghosts of their former selves. They kept watch over Espella Cantabella from the shadows, ensuring that her fairie tale life remained as consistent as possible.

It wouldn’t be so terrible, she mused, if I could only figure him out. Zacharias Barnham was a puzzle that, despite her intelligence and insight, remained impossible to crack. Some days he seemed to make every excuse to stand just a little too close: ‘accidentally’ brushing his hand over the small of her back when guarding her in public, lingering a moment too long while helping her dismount her horse. Other days he ignored her with an ease that was heartbreaking to behold. Nothing would make him glance in her direction, his eyes staring right through her as if she wore a cloak of invisibility.

Deep down, Eve knew that he must have felt the same about her. At times, she clung to his side with a desperation that even she didn’t fully understand. And then—sometimes within the same day—she refused to speak to him though they spent hours holed up together in their office.

It wasn’t right! Barnham was supposed to be her best friend, aside from Espella—though she could hardly call Espella a friend, when her very existence had been erased from memory. Barnham was her assistant, her helpmeet, her accomplice… her protector, always, from the time they were small children. He was her first visitor in the hospital following the Great Fire, sneaking from his hospital bed to sit at the foot of hers. I’ll guard you with my life. That’s what a knight does.

For over thirteen years he’d honored that promise. Now where was he? Sleeping on the sofa, instead of at her side. They were hurting one another: she knew it, and she couldn’t stand it… but neither could she stop it from happening.

Countless nights she’d spent wondering what might have happened if things had gone differently. If Mr. Wright had not insisted on a not-guilty plea. If the bag had not slipped from her shoulder. If they had spoken in the hotel room that evening, instead of separating in terse silence. If she had allowed him to do things his way, without argument, trusting in his abilities. If she had not ran the first time he tried to make things right.

Oh, Zack…. She hid her face in the loose lapels of his shirt, breathing in the familiar scent. I don’t know how to fix this… fix us. How could he sleep so soundly? Was he unburdened by the same thoughts? The same regrets? He was the sort of man who wore his heart on his sleeve, but that did not help her here. She knew his heart; it was his brain that she wanted. She yearned to be privy to the thoughts that raced behind those steely, unflinching eyes.

The dream still floated on the fringes of her mind, the faceless entity replaced with thoughts of the man who assumed its form. Her throat tingled with the memory of searing lips against her pulse, the sharp nip of pointed canines, the way he had bitten her—kissed her. Or, rather… how she had kissed him. Eve swallowed thickly, a blush rising to her cheeks as her heart beat heavily against her sternum. Surely it didn’t mean anything, right? It was only a dream. But it had felt so real….

Perhaps it was better that he stayed on the sofa, rather than coming into the bedroom with her. Even now, the memory of her dream sparked beneath her skin, warming the blood in her veins. Her bare skin seemed to glow in the moonlight streaming through the curtains, a reminder that she wore next to nothing. If he did walk in without making his presence known, he was bound to get a healthy eyeful.

Shamefaced, she quickly began buttoning the shirt back up the front. What on earth had come over her? Not ten minutes before, she had been ready to wake him up in the dead of night, dressed only in his shirt and a pair of cotton briefs. Barnham was a man of honor, and while sensible, her underwear was admittedly lacking in seduction. But she would be a fool to believe a situation like that would not—could not—have an immediate effect on them both.

She could hardly handle the thought of being kissed in broad daylight, fully dressed! What would happen if he saw her now? What would she do if he touched her through the thin fabric of his own shirt? If he kissed her in the quiet, welcoming darkness? The last thing either of them needed was to ruin their friendship with unnecessary feelings. The burden would be too much; they would crumble beneath its weight.

Besides, she definitely did not want to kiss him. Dreams were simply dreams, nothing more. It was perfectly possible to fantasize about someone without ever wanting to act on those fantasies. Surely it was no different than daydreaming about a celebrity, or a handsome model in a magazine. At the end of the day, the fact that she knew him personally meant nothing… right?

There is one surefire way to fall asleep quickly.

Eve brushed the sticky bangs from her forehead, frowning at the blank white canvas of the ceiling. In her mind, she turned over all the cartoonish depictions of shoulder angels and demons, whispering thoughts into waiting ears. Unfortunately, her angel was being deceptively quiet tonight.

It won’t take much. Isn’t it your duty to comply? After all, you said it yourself: we can’t be out of form on a Parade day.

She squirmed, kicking the sheets further down the bed as her fingers plucked nervously at the top button of her borrowed shirt. While it was true that a well-timed orgasm did help to clear her brain and settle her thoughts, there was no way she could bring herself to do that while Barnham lay asleep in the next room. The thought of him waking up and hearing her, or worse—of mistaking her sounds as distress and bursting into the room….

I’d die. I would absolutely die. He would die too, probably by dashing his brains out on the doorframe in an attempt to escape.

Willing herself to fall into a doze, she squeezed her eyes shut and focused on remaining entirely motionless. A bead of sweat tickled the back of her neck, jaw clenched to the point of pain and nails biting crescent scars into her palms. In the hallway, a clock on the wall seemed to tick louder and louder with each passing second. Barnham continued to snore in the main room, a deep, rhythmic sound that only served to remind her of his presence. It was no use; like it or not, she was wide awake.

Come on… you know how to fix this. It’s not like he’ll ever know.

Her eyes flew open, a scowl flitting across her face. If she touched herself now, it would not be to the thought of him. There had to be someone else, anyone else. Her thighs clenched reflexively, a flush creeping down her throat in the darkness. The dream was still so fresh in her mind. Was it better to think of the Envoy? Was that too much? If she thought of it only as it appeared in her dream—faceless, formless—then perhaps that was different than imagining Zack beneath the helmet.

Guiltily, stealthily, her hand smoothed over her bare stomach. Her skin was warm, pliant beneath her palm and sensitive to the scratch of her nails. Eve let out a shuddering breath as she ran her fingertips over the cotton, down between her legs. She allowed her eyes to drift shut, teasing herself through the fabric with a featherlight touch as she thought of firelight and flickering shadows.

Curtains of flame.

Burning metal.

Melting gold.

A bruising grip.

Sharp teeth.

Full lips.

Red hair.

Eve….

Her breath hitched, hips canting as she arched into her own touch. A whine eased its way into her throat, fear and morbid curiosity crowding her jumbled thoughts. The creased fabric of his shirt seemed to press into her, dragging across her skin with each ragged breath. She dared not give voice to her pleasure, lower lip caught between her teeth as she slipped her fingers beneath the fabric.

When she mouths his name, lost somewhere between thoughts of keen eyes and warm, calloused hands, she feels both defeat and elation. A strange dichotomy, the two, building on itself with every guilty thrust.

Forever intertwined.

#plvsaa #plvspw #professor layton vs. phoenix wright ace attorney #professor layton vs ace attorney #barnlaw #zacharias barnham #Eve Belduke #Darklaw #AU #Canon Divergence #Bell Tower AU #fanfiction #my writing

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ask-soul-bendy · 6 years

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here’s the predatory ink demon brothers~~~ lol

Daaaw~ I love it! :D The happy bois~ <3 Thank you, bud~

#BatIM #Bendy #Modern #unstable!Bendy #Devil Bendy #soul!Bendy #ink demons #Soul Bound au #Inky Terrors of the Past au #submission

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silentexplorer18 · 3 years

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Pen & Ink Soulmates: A Kakashi Hatake Fic

Summary: A partner, they said. Someone compatible with you, they said. Lies. Or the story in which you sneakily convince Kakashi that soulmates aren't all that bad.

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Female Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Writing on skin, Minor Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Abduction, Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, Hospitals, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Word Count: 12,100+

Note: For clarity, this fic occurs over a relatively large chunk of time, but it might make more sense to pretend Kakashi joins the ANBU in later teenage years (though we could pretend two high-level Jonin could talk with such maturity at age 13 if we wanted to!). Basically, I didn’t stress a timeline too much, but I hope you still enjoy it as much as I do! :)

Read on AO3 ▪ Masterlist

Hi, soulmate!

Soulmate?

Are you getting my messages?

Let me know if you want to talk.

Can you see the moon where you are?

I found the prettiest flowers today at the market. I wish I could draw you a picture of them.

Do you like flowers? I have a hard time picking a favorite.

You’d been trying. The whole connecting with your soulmate thing was supposed to be exciting and invigorating, but so far it had only left you with the bitter taste of defeat.

A partner, they said. Someone compatible with you, they said.

Lies.

Apparently whoever was supposed to be on the other end of your soul connection didn’t care about the messages you sent. They weren’t as eager to speak with you as you were to speak with them. At least, that’s what you told yourself. The alternative was much, much worse; a fate you weren’t willing to consider.

You had a soulmate. They just weren’t ready to talk yet.

So, you threw yourself into training. Every swift movement and taunt muscle, every hit target and victorious sparring session, all the work left you feeling strong and powerful. When your soulmate met you, maybe they’d regret taking so long when they saw how hard you’d been working, how skilled you’d become.

Thankfully, you had a sparring partner that liked to keep you on your toes. Kakashi had been training with you for about as long as you could remember; he was your closest friend and greatest ally as you worked to become a talented shinobi. Of all the people in the village, he facilitated and supported your growth more than anyone. You could rely on him for almost anything (except for being on time).

But there was one problem.

Kakashi didn’t like talking about soulmates. You couldn’t blame him. Deep emotional connections wasn’t a topic he wanted to dwell on, not after everything that had happened throughout his still-young lifetime. So you kept the conversation civil, even as your heart desperately yearned to talk to someone about your sudden fear of being alone, your deep, unrestrained terror that there was no partner to your soul, no body to receive the messages you delicately penned on the skin under your wrapped arms.

But apparently there was.

You learned that roughly a year later, after many failed attempts and more destroyed pens than you cared to admit.

The amount of times you’d tried to contact your soulmate had dwindled, both due to the lack of response and the influx in your shinobi duties. Regardless, you still took the time to try every once in a while.

Usually, your messages were sweet or silly. A few times, you’d merely asked if anyone was receiving your carefully written words, begging to know there was someone out there for you.

But every sensible person reaches their breaking point. And evidently both you and your soulmate broke in very different ways on the same day.

Good evening, soulmate. I didn’t do much today, but I can give you a run-down if you’d like.

It was a game you’d started a few months into your attempts at contact. Pretending someone was there was much, much easier than thinking about any alternative. So you tried your best to leave messages despite how much it hurt.

Staring at your wrist, you considered the scribble of the letters, the handwriting you only tried to make semi-nice now. That was your soulmate’s fault; you were past the point of a perfect first impression. But what to write today? What could entertain your soulmate, maybe even draw them out? You weren’t sure.

When the first inky letter swirled across your skin, your heart leapt into your throat, and your pen dropped from your hand. Your thoughts of what to write were quickly forgotten. There was someone. There was someone! There was someone waiting for you!

You leaned forward, hand clamped around your wrist to keep it steady as the words appeared on your skin.

You’re putting us both in danger. Stop writing to me.

Well, that certainly wasn’t what you expected.

After all the waiting, after all the time, that’s what your soulmate was willing to give you? Your jaw clenched, hand releasing your wrist so you wouldn’t inadvertently snap it. What a jerk.

How dare your soulmate assume you were incapable! How dare your soulmate treat you like nothing more than a hindrance! How dare your soulmate act like you were some worthless flower that would be trampled over by a single breeze!

You clicked your pen, hand pressing just a skosh too hard into your skin as you carved a message back to whoever that jerk was.

I can take care of myself.

The reply came a few minutes later.

Good. I don’t want you in my life. Leave me alone.

Oh.

Years of waiting for a soulmate, and the one to finally show up didn’t want anything to do with you? Great, just great.

You closed your eyes, hands shaking as you drew your knees closer to your body. Alone. You were alone. No matter who was destined to be by your side, nobody would be there. The tears burned in your eyes, but you tried to keep from shedding them. You were a shinobi. You were strong. You were… alone.

No, no you weren’t. You still had Kakashi and Kurenai. You had Asuma when he bothered to chat with you. You weren’t totally alone. You had people in your life to keep you company. Hell, you were even supposed to meet Kakashi for breakfast tomorrow!

You went over your list of friends in your head, desperately trying to drown out the nagging voice in the back of your mind whispering that the person who mattered most would never want you.

Kakashi was late to breakfast the next morning. Even later than usual. You idly wondered if he’d been called on an emergency mission while trying to keep your thin soup down.

The events of the night before rested at the forefront of your mind, making your stomach queasy with the memory of the harsh words.

Your soulmate had washed them off your arm by morning, but the message had already been branded in your mind. There would be no forgetting.

When Kakashi finally deigned to arrive, he looked much worse than usual. It was hardly perceptible to the untrained eye, but you knew something was wrong after so many years of friendship with Kakashi. He was even quieter than he usually was, picking at the cold soup you’d ordered for him.

It had been spur of the moment to order for the both of you, a decision brought on by being too wrapped up in your own thoughts. However, Kakashi didn’t comment on your unusual gesture.

For once, something went your way.

After your relatively brief and quiet meal, you offered to walk with Kakashi to the Hokage Tower, desperately craving the fresh air. He accepted your offer with a half-hearted nod, and you fell into step alongside him, trying to keep up with his impossibly lanky figure.

“You’ve been going to the Hokage Tower a lot lately. Is everything alright?”

Hummed, the sound still gravely from failing to use his voice all morning. “They’re pushing me up to the ANBU.”

You froze. The ANBU? One of the most elite and dangerous positions that a Leaf shinobi could accept? Your best friend—the talent, the protector, the lost child inside willing to throw his life away for the sake of his home, for the people who had left without him—an ANBU?

Kakashi stopped a few paces in front of you, casting a distasteful look over his shoulder at your expression.

“I can handle it. Stop fussing.”

With quick steps, you joined his side again, clenching your fist in embarrassment. “I’m not fussing. I just wasn’t expecting it so soon.”

“We die young as shinobi,” he murmured, continuing his walk toward the tower in the distance. Suddenly, the structure appeared to be looming rather than protecting, and a chill crawled along your spine.

Of course shinobi died young. All bodies gave out eventually, and shinobi would fight until that occurred, regardless of whether or not it was to their detriment (it almost always was). But Kakashi was the most talented shinobi you’d ever encountered. He wouldn’t die young, you hoped. He had so much left to live for, even if he couldn’t see it through the haze of his own pain and guilt.

The remaining walk to the Hokage tower was silent. And afterwards, you took flowers to the memorial stone. You prayed for the dead. And just this once, you begged them to look out for the living, too.

The day Kakashi joined the ANBU, you knew. The matching tattoo colored your bicep in sweeping increments, a sharp red rattling your heart within your chest. The reality of your situation washed over you like the worst kind of genjutsu.

Your best friend was your soulmate. And he didn’t want you.

The realization left you shell shocked for a few days, unable to even speak or look at Kakashi. Even without the contact, your mind couldn’t escape from him. However, you eventually managed to safeguard your heart as best as you could. You wouldn’t tell him yet; something within you couldn’t handle that risk of rejection, especially when it would come from Kakashi. But you weren’t willing to throw away the lifetime of friendship the two of you shared. So you put on a smile and met Kakashi at his favorite restaurant, just like usual.

“You haven’t been here for a few days,” he noted as you sat down, watching you intently. “Everything alright?”

You shrugged, fingers trailing down the side of your glass. “Yeah, just wasn’t feeling up to anything.”

It was a partial lie, one Kakashi could easily prod into if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He let you be. And you relished in the way the conversation eventually grew normal between the two of you, right up until he rose from the table, leaving you to pay the bill.

Everything was normal. But you cried again that night anyway.

Life fell back into the usual pattern after that. There were times that you could almost pretend the weight on your shoulders wasn’t there. Kakashi was away on more missions with the ANBU, so you were able to bury your head in your training and missions and pretend nothing was wrong. At least, you could pretend until a pen caught your eye.

The words on your skin had been so brutal, and you hoped they were just because of the pain Kakashi had endured. You hoped it came from a place of love rather than hatred; perhaps Kakashi’s intention was protection rather than cold-hearted rejection.

At least, that’s what you thought until you found Kakashi sparring with Gai.

You tried your hardest not to invade their privacy, not to listen to words that weren’t meant for your ears, like the good friend you were, but Kakashi’s voice was too sharp, too defensive, to not draw your attention.

“—but it’s a waste of time, Gai. Soulmates are unnecessary. Especially for people like us.”

“You’re hiding from your future, Kakashi. Wasting all your youthful days that you could be spending with the one who will love you as much as life itself!”

Another failed attack. The clang of clashing kunai.

“A soulmate could only be a liability to me. You know what kind of missions I’m being sent on.”

“They’re your soulmate, Kakashi. Soulmates are built to work together. They fill the cracks like the best kind of glue!”

Kakashi scoffed. There was another clang, the gentle zip of shuriken on the breeze.

“I’d never love them anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“You’d say something so cruel—”

You turned away, unable to listen anymore. The pain pooled heavy in your gut. The message he’d written hadn’t been a reflexive, angry reaction. His beliefs were set in stone. He didn’t want you.

So, you held your chin up, resigned yourself to eternal loneliness, and pretended the whole soulmate dilemma didn’t exist.

If being Kakashi’s friend was the closest you could get, then you’d ignore the sting in your chest when you looked at him. You’d be his friend. Nothing more.

Your resolve lasted a few weeks.

There was whispering. There had always been whispering, but this day was much worse than usual. He’d been mocked, insulted, shamed. Openly. And aside from Gai, nobody had said a word otherwise. You couldn’t stand it, watching him mask the pain as much as he masked his own features. His feigned nonchalance couldn’t fool your perceptive eyes. You’d been watching too closely; you knew him too well.

Curled at your desk that night, you wrote a message on your wrist, scared of talking to him again but unable to leave him alone.

You’re a good person.

Hours passed before you received a response. It was curt, defensive, everything Kakashi carried to protect himself. You don’t know me.

But you did.

Although it was difficult to sleep, you tried your best not to toss and turn too much as you brooded over your feelings. Was it worth saying more? Was it worth risking the hurt, the rejection?

In the morning, you’d made your decision, especially after noticing his words had already been rinsed off your wrist.

Cleaning your own wrist, you wrote the message in your head a thousand times over, only hoping the words wouldn’t hurt you so much when they reached his skin.

You're a good person, Kakashi Hatake. I won't let you tell me otherwise.

Kakashi met you for lunch just like usual. You wouldn’t have found anything odd about the meeting, but he showed up on time. Apparently your message had rattled him enough to throw him completely off his rhythm.

Rather than comment on his early appearance, you just smiled as he sat down, choosing to dig into your meal. Kakashi followed suit, pulling out a book while he waited for his bowl.

Silence settled between you, and you let it. After all, you were trying to make the situation appear normal. The last thing you wanted was for him to figure out you were in on the secret that was bothering him. So, the two of you ate. You sipped your tea, glancing out at the people passing on the street until Kakashi finally broke the silence.

“My soulmate knows who I am,” he murmured, setting down his raman bowl.

You plastered on a smile, knowing you had to fake congratulations, had to fake knowing that he had, in fact, zero intentions of finding his soulmate.

“That’s so exciting, Kakashi! I’m glad you’ve finally found yours!”

He laughed dryly, scratching his neck. “It’s not quite like that.”

You tried to neutralize the way your expression dropped. Either Kakashi didn’t notice, nose stuck in his copy of Make Out Paradise, or he didn’t care. You bit your lip, brows furrowing before you could stop them. “How so?”

But you already knew the answer to that.

“I’m not talking to my soulmate,” he said curtly. “It’s not something that interests me.”

You shook your head, sighing softly. He’d never let anyone in, never let anyone close. Kakashi was too reserved for that, and you resigned yourself to the knowledge that he’d never care to change the fate he’d chosen for himself. For such a hopeless romantic, he had a terrible tendency to reject love.

“You’re so foolish, Kakashi,” you whispered, balancing the chopsticks on the rim of your bowl.

His eye snapped to your face. Though he appeared nonchalant, you could tell that he slightly bristled at your words. “You’re one to talk.”

“Mine won’t talk to me,” you pointed out sharply, eyes dropping to refold your napkin.

His expression softened minutely, but his tone stayed firm. “That isn’t what I meant. We’re shinobi, (Y/n). Love in our line of duty is fatal.”

Pursing your lips, you caught his eye again before dropping his stare. “Perhaps,” you murmured, knuckles straining in your lap. “But you can’t say it’s pleasant to live without love.”

He was silent for a moment as you both stared at anywhere but one another. Kakashi was ruminating under your words while you wallowed in the silent pain of listening to your soulmate openly deny your importance. It hurt, but you wouldn’t admit that, least of all not to his face.

Before he could speak again, Gai had clapped Kakashi on the shoulder, greeting him as warmly as ever.

You slipped out of the shop, enough money to cover both your meals pressed into the owner’s hand before either of the shinobi could realize you’d disappeared.

Although your conversation with Kakashi had stung deep within your chest, you appreciated the insights it gave you.

Kakashi Hatake was aware his soulmate knew his name. And he was terrified.

The fact that he’d brought it up at all was enough to tell you how jarring the event had been for him. That, and the way he responded at the mere notion of knowing his soulmate. He was like a cornered cat lashing his claws out in terror. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, not his soulmate, not you. But in his desperation to protect himself, reinforce the walls he’d so meticulously crafted to fortify his aching heart, Kakashi Hatake was willing to scratch.

However, you weren’t willing to let it go that easily.

He was scared of having someone care for him. You were willing to start small in the hopes of changing that.

Along the curve of your inner wrist, you swirled the letters that would become the first of many.

Stay safe on your mission.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Today is supposed to be cold. Wear an extra mask.

He didn’t. Worse yet, he chose to do the opposite. Although it was hard to tell, you knew his mask and undershirt were the spring/summer fabrics rather than the fall/winter ones.

The bastard was spiting you. Well, spiting his soulmate. So, unwittingly spiting you.

It was still irksome.

As the two of you wandered around the village, helped the farmers, and even took a leisurely stroll around the village perimeter “just in case,” you relished in the way Kakashi moved. It was obvious he was cold, regretting his unnecessary fashion stance.

But you couldn’t stand to see him cold.

He looked close to dropping to the ground for a rapid succession of push-ups just to rekindle some warmth. As smug as you were about watching him suffer, you weren't willing to let him perform a Gai for a small semblance of relief.

Swiftly, you unlooped your scarf, draping it around his neck unceremoniously. It wasn’t much, but the fabric was warm, and it would certainly help a little.

If only you knew how happy the gesture made him.

As the two of you walked back to the heart of the village, Kakashi walked a little closer to you than normal. And, for some reason, you didn’t really mind.

When Kakashi didn’t show up to lunch the following week, you weren’t surprised. You’d only just returned from a mission, and word of Kakashi’s travels had already graced your ears. He was heading to the Village Hidden in the Sand. For what, you weren’t sure. Some missions were still classified even for you.

Despite knowing how skilled Kakashi was, you still worried about him traveling alone through the desert.

The click of your pen hurt a little less when you clicked it now. It helped to know who your soulmate was. It helped to feel like he cared about you still, even when he so clearly loathed his soulmate.

Remember to drink some water today.

A few hours later, you were surprised to see a response scribbled across your inner wrist.

Yes.

Just one word but finally a positive one.

Rest when you can.

Kakashi stared at the words delicately placed on his wrist. His mission had taken longer than expected, and he was beginning to think his soulmate knew that.

Whoever they were, they must have been a shinobi like him. A high-ranking one, too, for them to determine the length of time he was supposed to be away for.

He’d been receiving one message per day. At first, it irritated him to no end. But now, he didn’t hate it quite so much, even if he often didn’t bother to reply. The messages were always harmless. Sometimes they were funny. Sometimes they were giving him advice, a little reminder meant—he assumed—to help him through the day.

While the sender certainly had the best intentions when sending the note, the message still left him irked. He was alone for this mission, and the sleeplessness and general strains of traveling had started to take a toll on him.

Only a day’s journey left until he could return home and try to shake the sand out of every nook and cranny of his backpack. Only a day’s journey left until he could sleep in a bed. Only a day’s journey left until he could go to dinner with the others. Just. One. More. Day.

He could make it. He had to.

Kakashi had been injured again.

The news swept through the village like a wildfire, and you showed up with two Make Out novels and a bowl of raman, nearly being knocked over by Gai’s comically large bouquet in the process.

Kakashi accepted Gai’s flowers with moderate amounts of grumbling and a few lackluster attempts to get him to leave. Eventually, he did, and it was just the two of you.

You filled the vase at his bedside with water, delicately stuffing as many of the stems as you possibly could inside the glass.

Kakashi watched you move around him, cherishing the silence. At his bedside, you unclasped your bag, pulling out the blindingly colorful books and the container of Ichiraku raman. After making sure the utensils were settled and there was a napkin, you turned back to Kakashi, just missing the warm expression on his face.

“You should rest,” you encouraged gently, “and eat up.”

His eye squinted playfully. “You fuss too much.”

You smiled, smoothing a shuriken printed blanket over the starchy hospital ones. It was yours, but it still smelled faintly of dogs and Kakashi and spice. Hopefully it would stave off some of his nightmares, having something that smelled vaguely like home.

“I fuss just enough. Now, don’t stay up too late reading. Some rest will go a long way.”

“You fuss too—” He yelped as you pinched his toe through the blanket, slinging your bag back over your shoulder.

“You’re lucky you have me as a friend.”

Kakashi’s expression softened, mind racing toward how close he’d come to death yet again. “Yeah, I am.”

He relished in the way that simple statement delighted you, watching the way your expression lit up.

“Get some rest,” you encouraged again, turning to leave him in the bright, quiet room.

As per your request, he did.

Although he listened to your advice, it was only marginally. In true Kakashi fashion, he’d talked his way out of the hospital after a measly two days of treatment.

His body needed more time, but Kakashi was always one to push himself.

Since the Hokage stalled sending him on another mission, something he both hated and appreciated, he occupied the following days in his normal rhythm. He trained privately, visited the memorial stone, and wandered the village nose-deep in supposedly trashy romance.

You’d caught him wandering around a few times, and even saw him lightly competing in a challenge against Gai.

The sight made your blood boil even though you knew it was Kakashi being Kakashi.

He had no sense of self-preservation, which wasn’t particularly helpful when you—his soulmate—were watching from the sidelines.

Did he even care that he could leave you all alone? No, probably not, your mind taunted. Kakashi didn’t care about soulmates; you knew that.

If only you could convince your heart not to care.

That afternoon, you let the letters curl across your wrist as you watched him do another training exercise with Gai, looking faintly more fatigued than normal.

Give yourself time to recover.

If he found your message, he didn’t care to respond.

Kakashi would visit the memorial stone in the morning; you knew how his routine worked.

He felt it fitting to visit them as often as he could, an apology for living the life they all should have lived.

You couldn’t blame him. You visited the stone often, too.

But you couldn’t today, not while you were traveling to the Village Hidden in the Sand with a scroll. So, you asked for a favor, scribbling on your wrist: Pray for mine, too, please.

He was starting to grow accustomed to your messages. A small part of you wondered if he kept an eye out for them. But that was silly. You were thinking about Kakashi. He probably was just reading his book when the words appeared, his wrist already in his line of sight.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But it still didn’t dispel your excitement when the answer scribbled across your skin a few minutes later.

Sure.

He’d been taking on so many missions lately, wearing himself to the bone just to be a good shinobi. A part of you wondered if he was trying to avoid thinking about anything other than his shinobi world. That hunch didn’t stop you from worrying.

Soulmate or not, Kakashi’s actions would have worried you. He looked exhausted as he shuffled through his laundry. You’d brought him takeout from his favorite restaurant to hopefully get something other than rations in his stomach before he left on his next mission.

Who knew how long it would be before he drug himself in, requested another trip, and raced off to somewhere new. You would’ve thought he was avoiding you if it weren’t for the obvious delight in his eyes when you caught up with him outside Hokage Tower.

But there was a reason he was working himself to exhaustion. Possibly long-dead memories brought back to life that he couldn’t stand thinking about. You didn’t even want to know; you just wanted him to be okay.

A week later, you saw him walking through the village gates yet again. Back again. Planning to leave again. It was always the same, just relentlessly overkill at present. He was taking on too much, and one day he would slip up and regret it. You didn’t want that.

So you stayed behind the kiosk you’d been perusing, fingers untangling the wraps around your hand. It was a simple message, but you hoped it would help snap his mind out of whatever hole he’d buried it in.

Please don’t overwork yourself.

He didn’t respond. Not a word graced your hopeful skin.

But Kakashi caught you outside one of the stores in town and asked if you wanted to meet up for dinner that night. He would be around for a while, he said, but he was too tired to cook.

Despite trying to hold on to your resolve, a small part of you couldn’t help but hope he was staying because you asked him to. It was probably wishful thinking, but you were grateful for whatever force made him stay nonetheless.

I believe in you.

Kakashi scoffed at the message on his arm, printed in the spot where his glove met his sleeve.

He found it after a competition with Gai. Hardly anything worth fussing over, but his soulmate had still sent him encouraging words.

Had they been watching? Had they seen the fun (though he’d never admit it) that he and Gai had been having? Had they wanted to join in?

For a long time, he’d been able to avoid thinking about his soulmate altogether. Now, though, they’d found a way to weasel into his mind with the words swirling over his skin.

He wasn’t willing to consider whether or not he enjoyed it.

I worry when you��re reckless.

The message shouldn’t have stung Kakashi’s heart, but somehow it did. His soulmate was watching and worrying, hearing the stories about his travels. Whoever they were, they must have been a shinobi, too.

Were they okay with forsaking love in the name of war? Could they abandon emotions for the sake of duty? Maybe. His soulmate had never directly asked to be anything more than penpals, though even that notion was quite one-sided.

But the message on his wrist betrayed his soulmate’s strength. They worried about him. They listened for the stories and understood when something went wrong.

Kakashi couldn’t help but wonder if they were reckless, too.

If he never took the chance to know them, would he care if they threw their life away as often as he’d tried to? He wasn’t sure.

The next Make Out novel comes out today. I reserved you a copy at the Northern bookstore. It’s less crowded.

Kakashi didn’t understand why his soulmate was being so nice to him. Not after his harsh words at the beginning, not after his sparse replies and general lack of interest. But whoever they were, they were trying, and he had to admire that.

At first, he was surprised his soulmate was not only fine with him reading erotic novels in public but also encouraging it. But, then again, his soulmate was meant to be compatible with him, right?

There would be butting heads, of course. All soulmates lost the honeymoon stage eventually. But this seemed deeper, warmer. His favorite book in a quiet shop on his day off. It was kindness. And it felt both strange and wonderful.

He vaguely regretted not doing anything for his soulmate. Though, maybe they were okay with that. Maybe they enjoyed being alone, just like he did.

Maybe if he kept lying to himself, he’d continue to enjoy it.

But crouched in a tree a few hours later, he couldn’t shake the gratitude deep in his chest. The novel was amazing. And he wouldn’t have been able to get his hands on it if it weren’t for his soulmate’s generosity.

Two words.

Thank you.

Kakashi had arrived home from another long mission. Although unscathed, his clothes were a mess. Dirt and mud clung to his legs, dried blood was smattered across his upper body, and a few rogue twigs and leaves stuck to him in strange places. He needed a shower. Desperately.

But something within Kakashi was restless, and he chose to wander around the village absently.

Something must have happened for him to look so dazed and unattached, but you tried to avoid asking anything direct in public.

Instead, you hopped beside him, catching his arm with the tips of your fingertips. He hummed in response.

“You just got back, right, Kakashi?”

He hummed again. “Yep.”

“Have you bought groceries?”

“No... Why?”

“A bunch of us are going to dinner tonight. You should come. It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

He inspected you for a long moment, and you could tell what he was thinking. The laugh bubbled in your throat before you could help yourself. “It’s Iruka’s turn to take Gai home, don’t worry.”

He stared for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Okay.” Another small, dazed nod. “I’ll come.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as you told him the establishment and the time. That alone made Kakashi’s mood improve, though he’d never admit that aloud.

An hour later, though, he was still wandering around the city absentmindedly. So you figured his soulmate could take matters into their own hands.

Blood in your hair? Isn’t that a bit macabre?

He replied an hour later.

No.

But the next time you saw him, he was dressed in a new uniform. Not a single pristinely white hair was out of place.

If it hadn’t been for Anko talking your ear off about her last mission, you almost could’ve imagined that you and Kakashi were on a date.

It was the closest you would get, a clean vest and all.

But when Asuma blew a puff of smoke and Kakashi glared disdainfully from across the table, any hopes of romance slipped through your fingers.

You were friends. Close friends.

And you refocused on Anko’s story in the hopes of forgetting the state of your friendship with Kakashi for the span of a few minutes.

Every little glance he sent your way certainly didn’t help.

Nor did the way he offered you the last bite of his cake as a thanks for paying for his meal yet again.

Damn, you were in deep.

Be safe on your mission.

His reply came a few minutes later.

Yep.

Although it wasn’t much, the gesture made you smile. It seemed almost like he was waiting for your message, like he’d been checking as he and his companions wandered down the road.

You told yourself it was wishful thinking, but the word scribbled on your wrist in his handwriting warmed your heart all the same.

You’d forgotten. The mission had been too complex, your mind too preoccupied. You’d forgotten to write to Kakashi.

A part of you distantly wondered if he cared, if he even thought about your messages.

He’d started to reply on occasion. It was never more than a quickly scrawled, single word response, but it was still better than the total isolation he’d given you before.

You couldn’t say it was great, or that the two of you talked as soulmates. But it was relatively amicable. And that was a much better foot to get off on than the first time he’d responded to the words you’d scribbled words across your arms.

Things were okay.

And although you had a few scrapes and scratches from your mission, that had gone okay, too.

When your team settled in a clearing for the night, tent built and fire glowing, you drifted off, too exhausted to think of sending a scrabbled love message to Kakashi.

But he hadn’t forgotten about you.

Although you assumed he wasn’t paying attention, Kakashi was one of the best ninja in the Village Hidden in the Leaves. He paid attention to everything, despite his usual nonchalance.

He noticed immediately that his soulmate hadn’t written to him.

After weeks of at least one little message per day.

And he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was terrified. Had something happened to you? Were you injured? Could it be worse?

The idea of soulmates may have left him feeling disgruntled, but your messages had burrowed a home in his heart.

He wasn’t ready to give you or your messages up yet.

So for the first time in a long time, he wrote a real message.

You’re late. Doing okay?

As you watched over the dying flames several hours later, an early morning guard for your teammates, you stared at his words, tracing a finger over the scraggly characters.

Late.

You knew he wasn’t talking about your mission because the four of you weren’t due back for another two days. He didn’t know your identity. That only left the messages…

Was he treating this as a check-in?

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. Leave it to Kakashi to care more than he let on.

Got lost on the path of life. You?

Kakashi stared at your message. He’d been perusing his favorite bookstore for spare copies of the Make Out series’ novels, sleeve suspiciously cuffed and waiting for a reply, when the words had swirled across his skin.

And he laughed. Warmly and purely. Because you’d stolen his line.

You knew him. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing if you would continue to make him laugh so openly.

Surprised with himself, he clicked his pen, words scribbling across his skin before he had the chance to doubt himself.

Glad you’re alive.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. An admission that he wasn’t as dismayed by the soulmate thing as he let on. And you arrived home from your mission absolutely beaming.

You were able to catch Kakashi for lunch before heading off on your next mission with Kurenai. The food was filling, and the conversation was nice. Funnily enough, he was supposed to leave for a mission with Gai the next day. No rest for the shinobi apparently.

Kakashi waved at you as you walked away, and you smiled to yourself. Even if you didn’t have your soulmate by your side, at least you still had some connection to Kakashi. Being by his side was worth the dull ache it left in your heart.

But you would be without it for the next few days. Although you and Kurenai were leaving for no more than two days, Kakashi and Gai would probably be gone most of the week. Part of you hated when Kakashi was away, but part of you enjoyed getting to write to him more often. When he was away, you could be a little less secretive as you scribbled down messages throughout your day in the village.

But, for the time being, you’d focus on the mission at hand.

It was a standard case of bandits in the woods. At least, that was what the scroll had described the mission as. However, as you and Kurenai crept through the dense forest, something felt off.

No matter how far the two of you traveled, the quiet whisper of wind in the leaves greeted you. Despite your speed and silence, you couldn’t sense any animals or hear anything suspicious. Bandits would have left campsites or trash or, hell, even footsteps. But nothing greeted your senses, not even traces of animals. These weren’t ordinary bandits.

Your suspicions were confirmed when eight people jumped from the brush, attacking with a swiftness you hadn’t anticipated. Their presences had been completely concealed.

Kurenai lept to your left, and you lept to the right, sending three shuriken through the air to hit the nearest attacker. While your attack worked slightly, you immediately had to jump again, barely catching Kurenai rushing off through the trees.

This was the failsafe plan; if you got caught, you’d separate far enough that you couldn’t catch one another in the crossfire of your attacks.

But you were outmatched. Whoever these “bandits” were, they were extremely skilled in capturing and securing enemies. One moment, you were wielding a fire jutsu. The next moment, your vision had gone dark.

Capture wasn’t the only thing the bandits appeared to be skilled in. Upon waking, you’d been tied to a chair with restraints stronger than you could break. The room was dark, probably somewhere underground, and you realized you had no idea how long you’d been unconscious. Was Kurenai okay? Had she been captured, too? What did these people want with you?

None of that mattered, not when the first blow had landed across your exposed side. Whatever these people wanted, you wouldn’t give it. So, you took a deep breath, clenched your teeth, and shut out the world. Your village was valuable to you. The people there mattered to you. And you’d follow your training to the letter, or you’d die trying.

Whether it had been hours or days of torture, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that everything hurt, and your vision was starting to go blurry. Despite that, you hadn’t relented. No matter what they threw at your body, no matter what manipulation they tried to play with your mind, you wouldn’t budge.

At the end, at least you’d make the Village Hidden in the Leaves proud.

But there was something that was missing, something you wanted to do before you died, even if it was just selfish, even if it was just a foolish whispering of your heart. You wanted to be buried somewhere your friends could visit. You wanted everyone to know about your end, to know what had happened, to never worry that you were out there somewhere.

You wanted Kakashi to find peace in your death, not guilt.

So there was a secret you had to spill.

You slid the pen from your pocket, clicking it open as you stared at your arm. Slowly, you undid the bandages, greeted once again by blank skin. Swirling the pen across your forearm, you wrote the rough coordinates of your capture on your arm. It wasn’t exact, but hopefully it would be good enough. Then, you wrote the words “urgent note” on your fingertips and wrist, hoping that would encourage him to look. Below the coordinates, you wrote: Abducted by enemies. Not relenting to torture. Getting weak. Send help if possible. Or someone to collect my body. Look at leg later. —(Y/n).

Carefully, you rewrapped your arm, moving to roll your pant leg up. Your hands were shaking, and it was hard to hold the pen, but you had to write to him.

They said the end is coming, and I'm starting to believe them. It hurts a lot. So I'm writing to you. I know you didn't want to deal with the whole soulmate thing, but I couldn't stay away. You were just too wonderful to not stand beside. I'm sorry I didn't leave you be, didn't respect your wishes. But I wanted to be a part of your life. I'm being selfish by writing to you now, but you're the one person I've always been selfish with, so I'm not going to stop at the very end. Please don’t be upset with yourself if I don’t make it.

Your eyes were watering now, vision slightly blurry. Had they drugged you, too? Or was it just the injuries?

I just want you to remember that you’re loved. That I love you. That you deserve to be loved. Please don’t forget that when I’m gone.

Whatever else you wanted to write would not be written. Quietly, the pen clattered out of your hand, and your head slumped forward.

Time was up.

Your vision was blurry when your eyes finally blinked open. You were cold, but the ache in your muscles was a reassurance that you were very much alive. Alive and in a hospital, it seemed.

There was a crinkle beside your bed, and you looked up to see Kakashi thumbing through his book.

What had… You blinked, trying to recall exactly what had happened.

There was a mission… you’d been on a mission with Kurenai… right. Then… and then... you were abducted. Yes, you could remember that now. And Kakashi… you remember thinking about Kakashi. Gosh, everything was so damn hazy. You shifted, wincing as you tried to sit up.

“Hey!” His voice was cheerful, and you blinked up at him in surprise at the warmness in his tone. “Good to see you waking up!”

How had he known you were at the hospital? Had Kurenai… Wait, no. No. Hazily, you could recall writing coordinates on your wrist. They weren’t precise, so someone must have looked for you. You couldn’t remember being found. Everything after the last interrogation was too hazy… too confusing. But Kakashi had known… maybe Kakashi had looked for you.

“You made it in time?”

He hummed, closing his book with a thump. “Pakkun found you. Once I knew what to look for, I could rely on his nose.”

You nodded groggily, reaching up to rub your eyes. The ink was still on your wrist, visible due to your unwrapped arms. You’d forgotten about—

“Kakashi, I’m so sorry about the message.” You turned to look at him, eyes wide and embarrassed. “If I knew everything would’ve been fine, then I wouldn’t have—”

His hand rose, and you stopped, heart hammering in your throat. This was it. This would be the rejection.

“I’m glad I had the opportunity to save you.”

Of course. Because he wouldn’t leave a comrade behind; that wasn’t like him.

But that wasn’t the message you were referring to.

If he wasn’t going to bring up the love message, then you wouldn’t, either. “I’m grateful,” you murmured, looking down to finally see the treatment your body had undergone. There were marks everywhere, which meant Kakashi was marked everywhere, too. Marks on the soulmate that didn’t want you…

“I appreciate you waiting,” you forced yourself to say. Maybe he’d get the message and leave you alone.

Instead, he met your awkward sidestep with bluntness. “I figured we should talk.”

Your head felt like it was spinning, and you had the slightest sensation that you were going to be in the hospital for quite a while. It would be embarrassing to be rejected here; it would be embarrassing to cry in front of the nurses.

“Not now,” you croaked, hand scrabbling to grab the invisible cup of water at the bedside. Water, sake, medicine, heck, even the flower water beside you. Anything to push the lump out of your throat. Anything to avoid thinking about Kakashi’s rejection.

You were eyeing up the vase next to you as Kakashi stood, long legs moving to fill a glass by the sink. He handed it to you, assuring your fingers were pressed around the cup before he moved away.

You sent him a grateful half-smile before you swallowed the water like a shot, desperate to drown yourself in something other than your own awkwardness.

“Feel better?”

No, you really didn’t. Your head was still spinning, stomach still queasy. Whether it was from your injuries or Kakashi’s pointed stare, you weren’t sure. “I don’t want to talk about it today. Everything—” you coughed, trying to release the tightness in your throat. “Everything hurts.”

He nodded, humming low in his throat. “I’ll go get a nurse, then.”

You nodded shakily, debating whether or not you could escape from the hospital before he came back. The ache in your side told you moving probably wasn’t the best idea.

“But before I do, I have one question.”

Your head snapped to where he stood by the door, wincing as you did so. “Yes?”

“How did you find out it was me?”

You stared at him for a minute, searching his impassive face. He was one of the best shinobi this village had ever seen, and he was still impossibly clueless sometimes. Slowly, you rolled up your sleeve, revealing a roll of gauze. It was blue, unlike the starchy white medical gauze on your sides. You could fiddle with it; the fabric belonged to you. With nimble fingers, you untied it, letting it pool below your elbow on the bed.

Kakashi stared openly at the ANBU tattoo, and you watched the pieces click into place. He hadn’t even considered what a tattoo would be like for his soulmate.

“I see,” he whispered, fingers unconsciously twitching toward his covered arm. After a moment, he shook himself from his thoughts, gaze again becoming impassive. “I’ll go get the nurses.”

“Kakashi?” you called, shocked as the words left your lips. You hadn’t meant to call out for him, not yet, anyway. But he was standing there staring like you’d held up a practice dummy, focus radiating from him in waves. You had to say something. “Thank you. For saving me… and waiting. And thank Pakkun, too?”

Kakashi’s expression softened. “I will. Now, get some rest. You look exhausted.”

Though, rest was the last thing you would come close to receiving as the doctors gave you a full evaluation. Poking, prodding, and asking questions took up most of the afternoon. Although you tried your best to focus and take in all the information you were given about your physical state, your mind continually strayed to Kakashi. Did he hate you now? Did he want you out of his life? Was he waiting for you or just waiting to ask about the whole soulmates thing? You wished you could quiet the questions swirling through your mind.

That evening, you found a message scribbled across the back of your hand. Although his handwriting was still messy, it was obvious he took his time. He wanted it to be legible.

Get well soon, (Y/n).

It was the first time your soulmate had written your name on his skin. He knew you now. There was no going back to the secretive messages and hidden assurances. Everything was out in the open; Kakashi knew exactly who you were. He knew everything.

That night, you wept.

You wept for the injuries that would bar you from upcoming missions. You wept for the bitter sense of death that had grazed your fingertips. You wept for the compassionate message on your hand. You wept for the fear of being alone again.

You wept for Kakashi and all that he meant to you.

Between the crying and the medical evaluations the day prior, you slept well past the time you’d typically rise. Consequently, it was well past the opening of visiting hours, too.

Kakashi arrived before you woke up and tucked himself into a corner with a book. However, he read very little. Instead, he watched the gradual rise and fall of your chest, comforted by the knowledge that you were still breathing.

When “urgent note” had appeared on his fingers, his heart had nearly stopped in his chest. When he read the message printed on his wrist, the sinking sensation had only grown. Fear consumed him more than it had ever consumed him before.

His head had spun with the realization that you were in danger, that you were his soulmate. Summoning his ninkin had happened in a blur. If he was being honest with himself, everything was a blur up until the moment he found you. That moment would live on in crystal clarity in his memory forever.

There are some moments in life too horrific to forget. Finding you unconscious on the floor of a dingy bunker, pen by your side, chest barely moving, would be one of those moments for Kakashi.

The only thing more reassuring than watching you breathe was watching your eyes blink open slowly and focus in on him. He could tell you were nervous about talking to him, and he knew why. The message still hastily scribbled on both of your thighs was more than an acknowledgement of the soulmate bond. It was an admission that you loved him, an admission that you believed in him, that you wanted to stay by his side.

It was also an admission that you believed he didn’t want to stay by your side.

He really needed to talk to you.

“Good morning,” he hummed, tucking his book back in his vest. Smiling, he moved to sit on the chair beside you, feeling it was appropriate now that you were awake. This close, he could smell the antiseptic on your skin, the overbearing flowery scent of the hospital lotion, and the faintest whiff of your shampoo still clinging to your hair despite the days it had been since your last shower.

“G’morning,” you mumbled, stretching lazily. Kakashi watched your movements, chuckling at the way you arched like a happy rabbit after a nap. It was cute and endearing, a movement Kakashi had gotten used to witnessing over the years.

Shifting the other direction, you winced, body instinctively jerking back into a ball. “Ow,” you grumbled, hand moving to put a little pressure on your side. With some effort, you managed to shift into a sitting position, still moving gingerly to somewhat satiate your aching limbs. “I thought I’d feel better today, but I guess not.”

Kakashi snorted dryly. “That’s a bit ambitious, don’t you think?”

You stopped rubbing your shoulder to stare at him. “What do you mean?”

What did he mean? Hadn’t the doctors told you? Surely they would have mentioned… Were you playing dumb or did you really not know? Kakashi stared at you for a moment, scrutinizing your confused expression, before his eyes dropped. He let out a breath, then another, trying to hide the pain blossoming in his chest.

He’d almost lost you.

“You were dying,” he said lowly, gaze fixated on his gloves. “By the time we got you back, we really thought you weren’t…” he shook his head, expression dark. “The medics thought you were already gone.”

It took a moment for you to respond. The doctors said your recovery was astronomical, that you’d been close to death, but the way Kakashi described it, so somber and broken, made the reality of the situation hit home.

You’d almost died. You’d almost lost everything you held dear.

You’d almost lost him.

Glancing back to Kakashi, you found him still lost deep within his thoughts. His expression was dark, fist clenched over his thigh, over what was intended to be your last message to him.

Carefully, you reached out and bushed a hand over his clenched fist. The action drew his attention back to you. “It wasn’t your fault,” you gently offered, stroking the back of his hand once more before pulling away. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, but it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

He huffed, scooting backward in his chair. “I should have got to you sooner! Protected you! If I’d asked, you could have sent me updates. I could have prevented you from getting hurt—”

“Will you stop with the narcissism!” you chided, wincing as you swung your feet over the edge of the bed.

He met your gaze, lone eye blinking once in surprise.

“I took the mission. I accepted the consequences of it. I knew what an infiltration would be like. I knew the chances of getting ambushed. You didn’t endanger me, Kakashi. You weren’t even supposed to be on that mission.” Your voice faded, soft and overwhelmed. “But you saved me anyway.” You ran your thumb under your eyes, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. “So claim that. Stop… I need you to stop only claiming your failures.”

He clenched his fist, unclenched it, and nodded once. For the first time in a long time, you couldn’t read Kakashi’s body language at all. What was he feeling?

Part of you wanted to reach out and comfort him, but you didn’t. He’d made space between you for a reason. And as upsetting as it was, you were willing to honor that.

After a few minutes of silence, you plucked one of the flowers from the vase beside your bed. “Did Kurenai bring me the flowers?” You smiled, brushing a finger against the petals. “She accidentally picked my favorites.”

When you looked back up, Kakashi was staring at you again, cheek barely pinking over the edge of his mask.

He could read erotic novels in public, but you made him blush.

“Actually, I brought them.”

Freezing, you stared at him in surprise. “You did? How did you—?”

He flushed again, eyes fixing on the flowers rather than your face. “You buy pots of those every spring, but they always die because you’re out on missions. And you take daisies to the memorial stone a few times a month. You leave iris for your parents, and you bring peonies and cookies for the ANBU guards when you have meetings with the Hokage. And on the second Sunday of every month you’re both in town, you hide 100 tulips around the village for Gai to find.” When his eyes snapped back to yours, your shocked expression made him grow self conscious, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ve, uh, been paying attention.”

“Why?”

He gestured to the room, pretending to misinterpret your question. “It’s so dull in here. I thought a little decorating wouldn’t hurt.”

You snorted at that, impossibly undignified but oh so delightful.

Of course Kakashi would stall now that he was here.

But… no. He was usually blunt when it came to bad news. So why was he stumbling through the conversation like he’d never spoken to you a day in his life?

Your face shot back to him at the realization, and he arched a brow under your scrutiny. Could he like you? Could you have a chance?

“Everything okay?” he asked gently, tone much more serious than before.

You’d worried him.

Before you could respond, Gai burst into the room with the second largest bouquet you’d ever seen in your life.

“(Y/n)! I heard Kakashi was with you, so I figured I’d bring you some flowers on my way to challenge Kakashi to a shuriken throwing challenge!” He set the flowers—which balanced precariously due to their immense size—on your bedside table, giving you a dazzling smile and a thumbs up.

Kakashi sighed, “Well, Gai, I was just here talking to her—”

What if you had been interpreting Kakashi’s expressions all wrong? What if he didn’t like you? What if this was all his way of trying to stay friends? Although you hoped for something else, the fear of rejection clawed at your throat like a Shadow Strangle Jutsu. This was your chance. The chance to get out of Kakashi’s rejection. Gai was the perfect opportunity.

“You should go!” You chirped, smiling at them both.

“I… what?”

“That’s the spirit, (Y/n)! It would be a shame for Kakashi to waste his precious youth not enhancing his physical prowess!” Gai dropped to his hands, beginning to do push-ups on the floor of your room.

Ignoring the incredulous look Kakashi sent your way, you wriggled your fingers at his bag. “What volume are you on? I need something to entertain me while you lavish in your youth.”

Kakashi scoffed at your statement before fishing the Make Out Violence novel from his pouch. He dangled it in front of your face. “Is this what you’re after?”

You grinned, snatching the book from his hands. “This just so happens to be the volume I’ve been waiting for.”

Kakashi blinked in surprise, feeling his face grow warm again. “You read Make Out Paradise?”

You smiled sheepishly under his gaze, fingers tracing over the edge of the cover. “Really, it’s all your fault. It was so boring waiting in line to reserve that new edition for you. I needed something to do.”

Because that gift from his soulmate, that gift had been from you.

“And now you’re moving on to book two?”

Embarrassed but pleased, you grinned up at him. “I may have figured out why you’re so hooked on them.”

Kakashi laughed. Just a short huff, but still. Could you get any more perfect?

He was about to respond again when Gai grabbed his shoulder, already taking his ear off as he dragged Kakashi out the door.

You settled in with your—Kakashi’s— book, pleased for the reprieve but missing him all the same.

Delving into Make Out Violence was both a blessing and a curse. You lost track of time as you devoured the pages, and the story was so riveting that you barely thought about Kakashi. Though, every time you took a break, love—that sickening concept you didn’t even want to consider in reality—was at the forefront of your mind. So you dove into the novel again with renewed fervor, completely unaware that Kakashi had hopped through the open window. That is, until a warm voice interrupted your reading.

“Having fun?”

In surprise, you snapped the book shut, embarrassment washing over your expression. “A bit. How was the competition with Gai?”

Kakashi shrugged, dragging the chair he’d occupied that morning so he could sit directly beside your bed. “It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary for Gai.”

“Thanks for the book,” you murmured, passing it back to him. “Maybe I can borrow another one of your copies again sometime.”

He took the novel, setting it down on the bed beside you, only to take your hand in his.

His hands were warm even through the gloves, and his fingertips traced over your skin delicately, as though afraid his touch would somehow hinder your healing.

“(Y/n), we need to talk.”

Despite only holding your hand, he could sense the way your entire body went rigid. “Kakashi, please—”

“(Y/n). I almost lost my soulmate this week.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the faint stinging in your eyes. He was right, you were being selfish. It wasn’t like you were the only one who had a terrible, terrifying week.

You just didn’t want to lose whatever you had with him.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you didn’t bother to mask the strain in your voice. He already knew how you felt about him. “We can be friends. Anything you want. I just… I don’t want to lose this. You. I don’t want to lose you. Even though I was being so selfish—”

“I read your message,” he said softly, gaze fixated on the bend of your wrist as your hand flexed in his own. “I’ve read it so many times,” he laughed, strained from holding onto unshed tears. “I’d get it branded on my body if I could. Parts of it, anyway.”

He shook his head, looking back to your face. He didn’t miss the shocked expression, nor did he miss the tears still frozen within your eyes. He shook his head again. “I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been, that it was you and you were here all along. And then you almost died and I…” He paused, gaze still tracing along the bend of your wrist.

“You..?” With bated breath, you watched his eyes, the pull of his lips through the mask, anything to give away what he was thinking.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Not after how much you’ve grown to mean to me.”

Your heart thundered in your chest. Was he accepting you or rejecting you? Your breath shuddered over your lips, hand trying not to clench his too tightly. “What does that mean? For us?”

Kakashi leaned forward, pressing a masked kiss to your temple. “It means I want to take you for dinner when you get out of here. And—” he stood, letting go of your hand to walk toward the door. The sun was setting. Visiting hours were coming to a close. “Keep the book. I’d hate for you to be bored while I’m gone.”

With that, he vanished from your room, leaving you to wonder exactly what he wanted from you.

Tossing and turning that night, you couldn’t sleep, not with Kakashi’s words ricocheting through your mind. He cared about you, but he was putting distance between you. He was being aloof, just like the cautious jonin he was, but he was exposing vulnerable aspects of his soul to you.

Everything was so damn complicated, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep until you’d gotten an answer to the questions burning a hole in your tongue.

It took a few minutes to sit up, but clicking the pen against your wrist had become second nature to you after so many years. You just wanted to know what he was thinking.

Do you love me?

He scribbled a reply a few minutes later, and you wondered if maybe he was just as terrified as you were, if maybe he couldn’t sleep because he was thinking of you, too.

Not like you want me to, but I could. Someday soon.

The thought sent hope skittering through your chest, but you tamped it down. He hadn’t wanted you. He still probably didn’t want you. You were a liability. You were a danger to his way of life. You were—

Ink stained your hand, trickling down your arm, as you realized the pen had snapped under the strength of your palm.

Without a way to stand on your own, you stared at the drying ink, trying to think of anything other than the fear in your chest, the longing in your heart, the nervousness bubbling under the surface.

Kakashi was stuck to the wall beside your window a few minutes later, staring worriedly through the glass.

An ink stain. Of course, he’d worried something was wrong.

He’d been awake waiting for your reply.

He’d been awake because of you. For you. The thought made you dizzy.

Silently, he slipped through the window, crouching worriedly beside your bed. Whatever pretense of nonchalance he kept up during the day, he dropped it now, just for you. “Are you alright?”

You nodded once, stiffly, mind still racing with the situation. Your friendly banter from the morning disappeared, words dried up as your emotions increased tenfold.

A million thoughts rattled through your mind, but you finally settled on one. “You told Gai you couldn’t love me.”

He cocked his head, confusion furrowing his lone brow.

“You were… it was a training day. You were talking about soulmates. And you told Gai that you couldn’t love a soulmate, so it didn’t matter if you didn’t find them…”

Your eyes were watering, and you looked away until you felt the warmth of Kakashi’s fingers circling your own. His hand clung to yours with renewed fervor, though the interaction still held the same touch of softness that it always held when you were injured. Comfort. It has always been an attempt to comfort you, a silent word of compassion. But now that he knew you were his soulmate, would his gestures hold the same meaning?

His voice, coupled with a gentle tug on your hand, had you vanishing into his gaze yet again.

“Soulmates are supposed to be your other half, right?” he asked softly. “If you’re mine, then maybe the whole soulmate thing can work out.”

Even in the moonlight, you could see the blush peeking over the edge of his mask.

You’d stood beside him through thick and thin. You fussed. You took care of him. You let him take care of you. You bought books for him, and he watched your favorite movies with you. He took you out to your favorite restaurants, and you always paid for him. You trained with the strength of a hurricane, and you always kept him mentally and physically on his toes. But no matter what, you’d both been able to rely on one another. It wasn’t romantic love, not yet, but it was the closest thing Kakashi had ever experienced to romantic love. He was close to being in love with you, and the revelation of the soulmate bond had changed those feelings very little.

He’d always been on the precipice of falling in love with you. Now that he knew you and he were destined for one another, the proposition of falling didn’t seem all that terrible anymore.

“If it’s me, you think it’ll work?”

This time, he flushed fully, pinking to the edge of his hairline. “Yeah. You’re… you’re perfect for me.”

Then, it was your turn to grow bashful under his praise. Perfect. He thought this could work because you were perfect. Not perfect in general. Not perfect to him. But perfect for him, with all of your many imperfections.

He wasn’t in love with you. He wouldn’t say it yet. But he was falling, and that was impossible to ignore.

His words left you lost in another world. All this time, he was rejecting his soulmate for fear they wouldn’t truly be his other half. But you were his other half, and he could see that now. He could love you. He could see a future with you. He could—

Kakashi’s warm voice brought you back to the present, hand still gently squeezing your fingertips. “Did you hurt your hand?”

He cares.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, just a little ink.”

Kakashi stood, striding toward the other side of the room. He washed his hands under the sink before returning a moment later, damp rag in hand. This time, he sat on the edge of your bed, hand enveloping your own.

With slow, delicate movements, he swirled the rag across your skin, stealing the ink from your skin almost as effortlessly as he’d stolen your heart. If only you knew how easily you’d done the same.

“I was so scared you’d hate me when you found out,” you whispered. His hand tensed under your own, but he didn’t stop his ministrations. You continued, “Since I kept talking to you, both as your soulmate and myself, I was so worried you would feel betrayed.”

“I did,” he murmured quietly. “At first.” He flipped your hand, wiping away the stray trails of ink that had escaped from your palm. “When I got the message, I couldn’t believe that you’d… after all this time, it was you. And when we found you almost dead, I thought the world was punishing me again, just like everyone else…” Looking away, he began wiping the remaining ink spots off his hand, leaving your fingers to fiddle with the fabric on his knee. “But on the way back, all I could think about was the things I’d said to you. How could you trust me after I so blatantly pushed you away? How could you look me in the eye and put your faith in me when I hurt you so deeply? The fact that you’d tried to stay by my side after everything, the fact that you put your faith in me to keep you safe, after all the things I’d said to you… you never betrayed me. You’ve been by my side all this time, and I want to be by yours. Completely.”

You squeezed his knee, searching his face for any sign of illusion. “Is this real?” you whispered. “I want this to be real.”

Kakashi smiled, eyes crinkling as he took your hand. You looked dazed and happy as you stared at him; he’d never encountered anyone else so stunning.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward, brushing a masked kiss over your forehead, then your eyebrow, and finally your cheek. The pressure sent sparks across your skin, and you squeezed his hand a little bit tighter.

He hovered over your lips, breath ghosting across your skin through the durable material of his mask. You leaned forward, nudging his nose with your own. It was a silent message that you wanted his affection as much as he craved yours.

His breath puffed against your lips once again, and his voice, barely audible, filled the minuscule space between you. “Would you mind closing your eyes?”

Instantly, you complied, proving to him yet again how lucky he was to have met you. You put your faith in him time and time again, and he promised himself in that moment under the moonlight that he would do everything he could to be as compassionate a partner as you had been for him.

One of Kakashi’s hands released from yours, and you faintly heard the brush of fabric against skin. Your stomach fluttered as you felt his breath on your face again, warmer and closer than before.

And then his lips caught against yours, a gentle press against your tingling skin. His hand cupped your cheek, and you melted against him. The scratchy blankets and the faint hoot of owls faded into the background. Everything seemed to disappear except for you and Kakashi and the oh so delicate kiss between you. From the brush of his lips, so soft and tentative against your own, you sighed, leaning into him even more than before.

He groaned when the two of you pulled away. “I can’t believe I waited so long for that. Make Out Paradise really doesn’t do it justice.”

Make Out Paradise also hadn’t prepared him for the way his heart would race at the sound of your laughter.

“Are you sure?” you asked, reaching toward your bedside table. “Surely there’s a good passage in here somewhere.”

If it meant more time by your side, Kakashi was willing to spend an eternity searching the pages with you, stealing kisses for every paragraph you skimmed through.

In the morning, the nurses were alarmed and horrified to find Kakashi Hatake laying in your bed, one arm wrapped gently around your side, masked nose nuzzled into your neck. On the other side of you, his fingers brushed the cover of a well-worn Make Out Violence novel.

It was indecent, a break of protocol, and, most of all, a shameful mockery of their hospital security. But when you woke to find Kakashi’s nose tucking a little closer into your neck, a mumbled “good morning” slipping into your skin, neither of you could think of a more fitting way to wake up. For the two of you—soulmates, real soulmates—the scenario was somehow perfect.

He wasn’t one to care about looking indecent. You could certainly get behind that.

You welcomed sappy, romantic gestures. Kakashi was willing to privately oblige.

Yeah, you both thought, the soulmate thing could definitely work out.

Masterlist

A/N: Don't mind me casually fandom hopping again. This fic has taken ages to finish, but I'm so excited with the result! I have several more Kakashi fics currently underway, so I hope to get a few of them finished sometime soon! Have a nice day! :)

#kakashi hatake #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #hatake kakashi #hatake kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi x you #hatake kakashi imagine #kakashi hatake fanfiction #anbu kakashi #silent writes

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

and the void looked back to say i love you (Part 6)

A/N: welcome to the last part of this fic!! I may one day revisit this osmp au, but for now this part of their story is over. see you in the reblogs!!

Warnings: anxious thoughts, kidnapping, violence, unwanted flirting, death of insignificant characters, eldritch horror elements (this time it’s more legit, kristin goes off but there are also the strangely wholesome void lady moments as well), bickering, teasing/banter

Masterpost

It was hard to tell the passage of time in the void. But Kristin knew the time to visit the Overworld was fast approaching, and she flowed anxiously through her domain, formless. The void was clinging but comforting, and part of Kristin wondered why she even wanted to leave such a place. The void, her domain, her home- could she just leave it, even for a day?

The answer came in the form of a crow, looking rather ruffled and cawing in distress. Kristin took form immediately, her smaller “Phil-sized” one, dark wings flaring and wrenching herself up and out of the void’s grip. She held her hands out so the crow could have a place to perch, but the bird didn’t land- instead circling her head and cawing insistently. She peered over to the entrance, trying to see if Phil could explain what got one of his crows so riled up- only to see no one there. Kristin got a sinking feeling in her stomach- it wasn’t like the crows to be without Phil.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Phil?” Kristin asked, head turning to try and follow the bird’s panicked flight. The crow let out a warbling, mournful cry. Kristin couldn’t understand what it was saying, but she knew now that without a doubt, something was wrong… and something had likely happened to Phil. The crow swooped down and grabbed a lock of her hair in its beak, trying to pull Kristin to the tunnel entrance- not that she needed much convincing to leave now. She flew up to the entrance, grabbing the edge and pausing only for a moment before hoisting herself out. Her domain tried to follow after her with inky tendrils, causing the crow to squawk in panic. Kristin stood at the tunnel’s edge, a little unused to feeling something solid beneath her, and looked to her domain with a soft smile.

“Stay here, I will call on you if I need you. I won’t be gone forever,” she soothed the void, letting a tendril curl around her wrist. It didn’t speak, per se, but she could sense the feelings of concern and care it sent out, wishing her well before the tendril uncurled and sank back down into her domain below. She gazed at her domain for a few moments, before the crow cawed insistently, swooping down to pull at Kristin’s hair again.

“I know, I know. Let’s go,” Kristin said, turning her back on the void and making her way up through the tunnel. Torches lighted her path up to the Overworld, until she saw moonlight peeking through twisted tree roots. The crow flew ahead of her, cawing even more persistently now that it was outside. Kristin made her way out past the tree roots, momentarily distracted by the grass beneath her feet and the reflection of the moon in the lagoon before her. She turned to look at the lightning-scarred tree behind her, a house up in its gnarled branches. She looked back to the lagoon, and noticed a little shack diagonally across from the tree on the other side of the water. Then past the shack, she saw them. A caravan of sorts, with a chain of carts and people shouting. The crow flew towards the caravan, hovering in midair to look back at Kristin. With a determined nod, she followed the crow.

They made their way through a spruce forest on one side of the shack, the trees giving them cover. The crow perched in a tree on the outskirts of the small forest, and Kristin hid behind the tree, watching the caravan with a horror-stricken expression. A group of people she didn’t recognize were herding a menagerie of hybrids- a few hybrids that Kristin recognized, a few she didn’t. Among the ones she didn’t recognize were a slime hybrid, a fox hybrid, a boy seemingly made of stars, and a small man perched on the shoulder of the star boy, all inside one of the carts of the caravan. Another cart had a tank filled with water, and Kristin watched as a girl with axolotl-like features was unceremoniously dumped into the tank. Two more men were trying to corral a blaze hybrid, a bee hybrid, and an enderman hybrid into another cart- and Kristin’s heart dropped at the last group of hybrids. The ones she recognized. Tommy was trapped in a net, being dragged towards another cart as Wilbur struggled against the hold of two men on either side of him.

“Stay put, phantom. Or the birdie here gets it,” one of the men said, flicking out a knife and holding it to the throat of the last figure Kristin recognized- Phil. His wings and arms were bound to his body with some sort of netting, and two men were holding onto his shoulders- one of them doing it one-handed to hold the knife to his neck. Wilbur’s eyes flashed green, but he stopped fighting against the men holding him back.

“Hey! Be careful with that one, he’s an elytrian. Haven’t seen many of those in years,” one man, possibly the leader of the group, said with a cruel grin.

“Only because hunters like you hunted my people down!” Phil said viciously, straining against his bonds and the men holding him back. The man only grinned.

“Oh I know. That’s why when I heard rumors of a winged man around this place you call Ringlake, I had to see for myself. And not only have I caught myself an elytrian, but a jackpot of other hybrids. Guess I have you to thank,” he said, and Phil’s expression dropped, face going pale. Anger boiled in Kristin’s veins, and she started to move from her hiding place- until a ruckus of commotion stopped her.

“One of the fucking hybrids is loose!” one of the hunters cried. Kristin watched from her place in the shadows to see Wilbur, free of the men that were holding him and eyes glowing a vibrant green. He shoved one hunter away from Tommy, who was still trapped in a net. The hunters that were holding him before lunged at Wilbur, but he winked out of existence before they could reach him, causing them both to tumble face-first into the dirt. He shimmered back into existence with a smug grin, which quickly turned to a determined frown when the hunter he had shoved before scrambled back to his feet, sword drawn. He grabbed a sword from one of the hunters lying face-first in the dirt, taking a protective stance in front of Tommy. The hunter ran at Wilbur, their blades clashing as Wilbur managed to hold him off. The swords strained against each other as the hunter tried to push Wilbur back, but he merely turned invisible again, causing the hunter to stumble forward. Wilbur appeared behind him, slashing at the hunter a few times before going invisible once more, the hunter swinging his sword in a wide arc out of frustration. Wilbur came at him again from out of nowhere, but this time the hunter managed to shove him onto his back, pressing a boot to his chest and holding him down as he raised his sword again.

“No!” Kristin cried, running out into the open, unable to stay hidden any longer. Everyone froze, gazes snapping to her. A curious and intrigued expression came over the lead hunter’s face, before a grin took its place.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here?” he asked, voice sleazy and making Kristin bristle in discomfort. Phil snarled at the man, trying to lurch forward against the two hunters holding him back. Kristin smiled fondly at Phil’s protectiveness- it was sweet, but not needed. The smile turned sinister as she looked to the first hunter, pleased to see him pale a few shades underneath her gaze. She unfurled her dark wings, and mentally reached out to her domain far below. The temperature dropped suddenly, and inky blackness rose from the thin ravine that gave Ringlake its name.

“You will die first,” she said simply, her voice echoing with raw power. The lead hunter tried to scramble backwards, but she hardly gave him a chance to scream before a tendril of the void lashed out, grabbing him and pulling him down, down, down into her domain below. The hunter pinning Wilbur down was next, and she relished in his scream as a sickening crunch was heard when a tendril grabbed him. One of the hunters holding Phil was smart, choosing to try and run away- but he wouldn’t escape. A tendril grabbed him and pulled him down to the depths of the void, while the one who foolishly held onto Phil with his knife still drawn was plucked up and thrown far away, Kristin not bothering to look where his body landed. The rest of the hunters surrounding the other hybrids were plucked off one by one, either dragged down or thrown far from Ringlake. She didn’t care if the ones thrown survived or not- if they did, they could spread the message that Ringlake was not to be touched. The lake and the people who lived in and around it were her domain, just as much as the void was.

“Kristin?” a voice asked, tone soft and edging on mildly terrified. Kristin blinked, letting the void sink back down to her domain as she turned to face the source of the voice- Phil. A mix of awe and terror was clear in his expression, and a few final flares of anger shot through Kristin as she saw the way he was still bound by the netting, feathers rumpled and sticking at odd angles through the net. She should have made those hunters suffer more for even touching Phil and the rest of her family- but all was said and done, at least they were safe now. She called upon the void one last time to reach out and slash through the netting. Phil stumbled to one side in surprise once he was free, watching the tendril of the void sink back into the thin ravine.

“Are you alright?” Kristin asked, stepping forward and reaching out towards Phil a bit timidly. There was no denying the stillness and silence that hung in the air, and Kristin wasn’t sure how to feel about it. They were safe now, couldn’t they see that? Kristin’s worries were soothed when Phil rushed forward into her arms, holding her tight. Kristin all but melted in relief, one hand going to comb through his ruffled feathers and unable to hold back the smile at the relieved coo she got in response.

“I’m alright now, thanks to you,” Phil said softly. He pulled away but didn’t go too far, linking arms with her as the two of them turned to the rest of the hybrids. Wilbur had helped Tommy out of the net, while the blaze, enderman, and bee hybrids helped the axolotl girl out of the tank. The bee and enderman hybrid looked closer to Tommy’s age, while the blaze hybrid and axolotl girl looked a little closer to Wilbur’s age. The star boy, who was helping the slime hybrid, fox hybrid, and the small man out of the barred cart with a blast of starlight, looked around Wilbur’s age as well. She couldn’t quite figure out the other hybrids, all of them physically being much smaller than the rest of the kids, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were younger. She locked gazes with the star boy, who looked curious instead of terrified, unlike the three hybrids clustered around him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“That’s my mum!” Wilbur piped up, before Kristin had a chance to respond. Kristin chuckled fondly at the resulting bewildered expressions of the group.

“You can call me Kristin. I’m the Queen of the Void,” she clarified.

“I’m Scott, a starborne. Thank you for saving us- me, Fundy, Charlie, and Sneeg have been held captive by those hunters for a while now,” Scott said, gesturing first to himself, then the fox hybrid, then the slime hybrid, and then the small man on his shoulder as he listed off names.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t have done your starbolt thing sooner,” grumped the fox hybrid, Fundy. Scott frowned at his shorter companion.

“Well then the hunters would have shot me and made me go supernova, taking you guys with me,” Scott reprimanded. Fundy muttered something incomprehensible, but shrugged in defeat. Scott gave a smug grin in response, and Sneeg jumped down from Scott’s shoulder to continue heckling Fundy along with Charlie. Kristin couldn’t help but smile fondly at the display, already hoping that the group of hybrids would stick around Ringlake.

“Are we not gonna talk about how when Philza looked into the void and the void looked back, he decided to marry her?” the bee hybrid piped up. The enderman hybrid smacked him on the arm, while the blaze hybrid shook his head and the axolotl girl giggled.

“Tubbo,” Phil said reproachfully.

“He is surprisingly correct,” Kristin said with a shrug.

“The first person who looked back at me when I looked at them was Ranboo! Does that mean I get to marry him?” Tubbo asked, looking to the enderman hybrid beside him.

“Mate, you’re a little young to-”

“You can’t marry Ranboo, you’re my best friend!” Tommy said incredulously, interrupting Phil.

“Ranboo being my husband doesn’t make us not best friends!” Tubbo retorted, crossing his arms and hovering above Tommy. Ranboo just stood behind them, gaze flicking between the two boys with blatant confusion.

“Boys, you can marry whoever you’d like when you’re older,” Phil said, trying his best not to laugh.

“I’m okay to wait to marry Tubbo,” Ranboo replied with a shrug. Tubbo cheered, and Tommy instantly began whining about losing his best friend to a “fuckin’ enderman.” Kristin shook her head, and looked to the blaze hybrid and the axolotl girl- who had jumped into a nearby pond during Tubbo and Tommy’s bickering.

“You two must be Jack and Niki,” Kristin said, remembering the names Tommy had mentioned the other day. Niki popped her head up from the pond, nodding excitedly.

“Ayup, void lady,” Jack said with a wave.

“Thank you for saving us!” Niki exclaimed, tail splashing excitedly behind her.

“Of course! One of Phil’s crows came to me in distress, I had to come up here and save my family,” Kristin said firmly.

“Aww, that’s so sweet! Wil and Tommy are lucky to have a mum like you,” Niki said with a grin. Kristin blinked in mild confusion.

“I was including you, Jack, Ranboo, and Tubbo in my definition of ‘family.’ And if Scott and the others want to stick around, they’re more than welcome to be family too,” Kristin said, voice sweet but also leaving little to no room for argument. The group of hybrids- minus Wilbur, Tommy, and Phil- all took on various expressions of surprise and confusion.

“Kristin, I think we need to talk about adopting people we just met,” Phil whispered, amusement clear in his tone.

“You still haven’t given me a good reason as to why not!” Kristin teased back with a grin. Phil laughed, shaking his head.

“I mean, if you guys are alright with it, I’d like to stick around here. I don’t exactly have a home anymore, I was taken by hunters not long after my meteor crashed around here,” Scott said, casting a sad glance to the stars before looking back to Kristin and Phil with a shy grin.

“What is it you said before, Phil? We don’t really adopt people, they just sort of find us?” Kristin said with a smug grin. Phil sighed, but couldn’t hide the fond grin on his face.

“I think that means you guys can stay,” Wilbur said with a laugh. Scott cheered, and immediately began chatting with Fundy, Charlie, and Sneeg about where they could build their homes. Niki and Wilbur joined in on the conversation as well, offering space around the lagoon. Jack, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo started talking about a potential place where every hybrid could gather together, no matter their advantages or disadvantages. And as Kristin watched the group fondly with Phil, she realized something about the people around her. It made sense- Kristin was the void, meant to pull people in. But instead, Kristin had pulled together a family.

End Note: credit to zapekan6000 on twitter for inspiring the wilbur vs hunter fight scene! link to their animatic here

MCYT Taglist (I’m thinking about making this my general tag list for mcyt fics, but i also know that people on this list just wanted to be tagged in this fic. please let me know if you want to be added/removed, otherwise I will just keep the same people on this): @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @space-ace123

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Evil Unmasked Part 4 AU (aka Vader visits Padmé’s tomb)

Darth Vader was, in a word, exhausted.

Truth be told, whatever slim patience he had had for the machinations of Palpatine’s propaganda machine and the role it had carved out for him was all but gone. He could no longer recall how many interviews he had been forced to play along with, how many holo captures he had had taken of his visage for Imperial distribution. He had figured Palpatine would use his compliance as a tool to promote the Empire as the righteous governmental installment, and himself as the rightful Emperor. Still, it was becoming both grating, and infuriating. Vader was relieved that the media circus had, for now, been foiled and was beginning to die down. He had lost count of how many times he had been pinned down to denounce the Jedi order and explain why he had turned against them, as well as why he had changed his name.

Eight months post the fall of the Republic, and the calamity of the aftermath had begun to settle into the new normalcy. Vader was no longer hounded by hoards of reporters, no longer approached solely to speak out for promotional purposes. This was his first break from the obligations of either hunting down and eliminating stray Jedi, or speaking out on Palpatine’s behalf to praise his leadership. As soon as the opportunity arose, he asked for (demanded) his first day off. Palpatine had given him a quizzical, mildly displeased look but allowed it with a disinterested hand wave. The location he’d chosen for his travel had been decided long in advance, constantly pushed to the back of his mind but never truly forgotten. Vader hadn’t been anywhere near the sector for years; the planet’s sunny skies, vast green fields of grass and tranquil environment seemingly welcoming him with open arms. The nature and its beautiful trappings knew nothing of his past, nothing of the dark deeds he had committed - nor of the fact that he had stolen one of its most favourite daughters away.

Naboo was a beautiful place, with its lush scenery and its vast crystal clear lakes. Even with the sombre intentions behind Vader’s visit in mind, he found it a refreshing and peaceful break from the insanity life had become. The serene, bedazzled home world of Emperor Palpatine was nothing short of a paradise. But it was also the home world of Vader’s beloved, lost Padmé.

That Palpatine could be the native son of such a stunning planet was irony in its highest form. Padmé was much more suited for the inviting greenery, and the richly bedazzled background most citizens of Naboo had enjoyed. The gungans, shut out from society and equality before the Separatist attack, seemed so far removed from the background Padmé and Palpatine were of. Padmé had been born a Naberrie - that in itself a prestige; elected Queen at fourteen, and then continuing to become the senator and ambassador of her birth planet. The planet’s inhabitants had adored her. They adored her valor, her beauty, and her compassion. Her childhood made such a stark contrast to Vader’s own. Padmé had been raised in harmony; with her own autonomy, with responsibilities, yes - but with the power to make lasting changes. With her inherited money and her stunning appearance, her heritage and her wit - Padmé had had all the trappings sufficient of making a just, good woman.

Vader had come from nothing, with no legacy, no father, and no autonomy. He had lived impoverished as a child slave barely scraping by, fearing either death by starvation or illness, or by extermination. Watto, as his master and owner, had threatened him into submission by reminding him of the chip in his neck; reminding him of that fact that would he revolt - both he and his mother were doomed. Padmé never had to fear for her parents’, or her sister’s lives. Not even when she was with child, was the terror of her dying in childbirth that occupied Vader’s mind every hour of every day, of any concern to her. She did not fear death, but then she had never been faced death as Vader had. Perhaps, if she too had been raised on a desert planet, no more than an item to be exploited, with only her mother as a guide and confidant would she have understood his plight. Maybe if she, too, had lost her parents and failed in her valiant effort to save them, would she have understood his fear of watching her fade away. In the end, as yet another cruel twist of fate; Vader himself had brought about her demise. In the end, all he had was himself - and perhaps, that was for the better.

The tomb of senator Padmé Amidala was a vast monument in and of itself, but at the same time surprisingly sparse on decor. Padmé had never been a woman of simplicity when it came to appearance or presentation, but her final resting place was almost humble. Solid stone encased her now, protecting her withering bones from the harsh light of day. Now, as night reigned supreme and the stars peppering the skies provided the only light; Vader thought it a bleak and gloomy sight. He would have envisioned something more grandiose. The style was simple; cream coloured alabaster pillars supported a raised, arched roof. Vader traversed down a winding path or marble stairs, resolute in his resolve despite the unwanted guilt that was constantly nagging at the back of his mind and wearing him down. It made his skin crawl, and he stopped when he came face to face with the single ornament guarding his wife’s grave. Beneath the arched ceiling, a monument had been erected in her honour. Large, lifelike and meticulously detailed; it too was cut from sandstone and alabaster. It was a magnificent statue, portraying Padmé as she had appeared in life during her years as Queen and regent of Naboo. Its face seemed to peer down at Vader, as if to condemn him for trespassing. As if to demean him for daring to disturb her eternal peace.

Ignoring the judgmental stare he could not shake, Vader hurriedly brushed past the statue. With one wave of his hand, he let the Force gently guide the heavy stone door blocking the entrance to the mausoleum portion of the monument aside. Inky darkness pooled inside the small crypt, the starlight barely spilling past the threshold. A cold breeze seemed to emerge from within, both as a plea asking him to leave; and a lull, begging him to enter. Vader shut his eyes for a moment, allowing bith the crisp chill of the night and the stuffy air from within the tomb to wash over him. The breeze ran through his hair, and for a second, he recalled the gentle touch of his wife’s slender fingers combing through the unruly curls. He remembered her soft skin, her plush lips. Opening his eyes, he knew what he must do. He held no fear of the dead, and he was convinced that Padmé’s ghost would not be enraged by his visit.

But neither would she be pleased. Vader imagined she may weep if she could see him now.

Not surprisingly, Vader had found himself unable to attend Padmé's funeral wake. He had watched the holo screen broadcast of the procession in real time, as it was distributed to the public grieving an icon lost. The ceremony itself had been lavish; Queen Apailana dressed in the regal mourning attire. Emperor Palpatine had made it more than clear that there was no way for Vader to be present without drawing unwanted attention by his pre-Empire affiliation with Padmé as - what the public thought to be - a very close friend. Indeed, his absence may have been even odder but in hindsight Vader couldn’t have changed his lot had he tried to. And he had tried, to no avail. At the same time, it hadn’t stung as much to give into his master's wishes - knowing it was his fault Padmé would breathe no more. He had killed her. Part of him thought then, as did he now, that he hadn’t deserved showing his face in such a sacred rite. She was so far above him, and he was so far beneath her.

She was an Angel, and he was her murderer.

Entering the crypt with trepidation and reverence, Vader paused in the doorway. He had to duck to fit through the narrow entrance; the additional height of his new cybernetic legs was still cumbersome, and he hadn’t quite gotten used to the equally freshly fashioned prosthetic arms either with their larger hands and longer forearms. It was just a matter of time, really, but Vader felt it to be an unwelcome hindrance. He had been promised unlimited power by his master, instead he had been maimed and left for dead by Kenobi - and he alone bore the blame for Padmé’s demise. Padmé, whose remains were just within his reach. Padmé, whose spirit must surely despise him now. As he traversed with a solemn unease farther into the cavern; Vader became aware of two things.

First was the stone coffin holding his beloved’s lifeless body. Its lid was adorned by yet another skilfully crafted sculpture; this time a likeness of Padmé’s visage as she had been presented during her funeral wake. Her hair had been loose and wavy as she was paraded through the streets, decorated only with tiny, brittle flowers. Clad in a flowing blue gown, hands clasped over her swollen belly; face so lifelike she had seemed to be merely asleep. As Vader had made himself watch the painful holoscreening - witnessing his beloved one last time from afar - he had entertained the notion that if he’d only been present, he could have kissed her cold lips and she would have woken up. So many fairytales spoke of true love’s kiss, and of it raising a seemingly dead lover from their eternal slumber. Vader’s last kiss shared with his wife had proved to be the kiss of death. This blatant mimicry of Padmé’s visage - a far cry of her beauty - had been expected.

What Vader had not expected was the glass showcase propped by the coffin's side. Upon an indigo satin pillow rested Padmé’s japor snippet. Slightly faded with wear and tear, wooden and as intricately hand carved as the day he had given it to her. It had been granted its own separate display, and Vader scoffed at the notion that any of Padmé’s many handmaidens or realtives would have understood but a sliver of its importance to her - and, subsequently, to him. Still, it had been singled out as a token, and it had been clear even to those not in the know that the simple jewelry had been cherished by its owner.

Swallowing hard, Vader slowly approached the small cased necklace. Even in the dull darkness, his iridescent golden eyes helped him focus on the tiny trinket. A mixture of shame and bitterness welled up inside as his gaze took in every painstakingly crafted detail, and for just a moment - his serious expression softened. Gone were the harsh lines, gone was the composed and well rehearsed authority he had adapted since his shift. For that brief moment, Vader’s chest felt tight and a strangled, choked breath escaped his parted lips.

Anger was quick to overthrow the suffocating sadness. Pursing his lips, Vader forced himself to turn away. Instead, his eyes fell again upon Padmé’s stone grave. He didn’t deserve to be here, he didn’t deserve this attempt at paying her respect with meaningless, silent apologies. He had put her in that coffin, he had snuffed out her light. As if moving of their own volition, he found his legs were carrying him closer to the cold marble against his will. One gloved hand reached out to hesitantly touch the surface, but all Vader's cybernetic fingertips could detect was hard edges. Nothing concrete, no nuance. Vader was bereft of something as simple as the smooth, cool kiss of masterly crafted sandstone. The soft curves and gentle lines came off as no more intricate than the billions of grains that made up the sands of Tatooine.

Clenching his jaw shut, Vader's hand curled into a tight fist. It shook as he squeezed it shut; Padmé’s desperate, pleading hazel eyes flashing before his inner vision. She’d been so frail, so distraught, so horrified. She had never betrayed him, he had betrayed her. This was all his fault.

Padmé was dead because of him. Only him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Vader wished for nothing but to be offered the chance to retrace his step and right his wrongs. He wished to relive the moment in which he had lashed out, if only to forgive her and believe her words. If only to take her in his arms, to heed her warnings and run far away. Just him, her, and their child. Together. The child that had perished alongside his mother, never allowed to get to know her tender soul.

An unyielding, intense burn spread like a wildfire up the bridge of Vader's nose, and bled into his cheeks. A stinging prickle settled behind his eyes, and despite his stubborn attempt at remaining calm and detached, dismissing his pain - scalding tears welled up to pool at the corners of his eyes. In one fell swoop, they disregarded his wishes and rolled in heavy globs down his pale cheeks. Vader allowed his anger and his despair to mingle with his guilt. In an act of rare surrender, he let his walls crumble to dust and acknowledged that he had made a terrible mistake. He had allowed Palpatine to twist his mind, to entice him with empty promises. But it was he who had believed those lies; he had been the one to choke his own wife in blind rage.

Covering his face with his free hand, Vader did his best to restrain his grief in a feeble attempt at maintaining dignity. Biting back sobs, he wept silently - shedding the final pieces of his past with each tear. A burden that was his alone to carry, but its weight slightly lighter to bear despite the dull ache it left behind.

When he eventually vacated the tomb; daylight had begun to spill over the fields and hills, its orange glow warming the dew lining every straw of grass and creating a thin veil of mist. The air was sweet, its scent a jumble of flowers. No trace of his secret visit did Vader leave behind, but something inside of him had changed irreparably. Something had been left behind, laid to rest alongside the lost Queen.

If he could destroy the one thing he had loved more than life itself, what mattered any other life on his conscience. If his Angel was dead, Vader was already cursed. Whoever stood in his way was but a stepping stone on his way towarda greatness.

Every citizen in the Galaxy was but an animal - and he would slaughter them as animals, if need be.

*****

I wanted to write something sad, and I figured since this iteration of Vader is quite different to the canon one - this would be yet another way for him to shed his past, and to become even more of a propaganda and political tool. Also, I felt like writing something sad and angsty and I seldom write about Padmé, so consider this a little treat for those of you who - much like I - enjoy sadness and pain.

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029582/chapters/79632736

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ffwriterbts · 3 years

Text

Lunar- BTS Werewolf AU Part 2

AN: As I’ve said before, if slowburn BTS werewolf AUs that have springlings of angst, smut, and fluff, this is the story for you! Other than that, please leave a like or comment so I know you’re enjoying the story!! I’m also looking for a beta reader or two for this story, if you’re interested in that! Just shoot me a message or leave a comment and I’ll get in touch!

Word Count: 2455

Warnings: None

Posted: 12 Dec 2020

Masterlist

Previous Next

Eventually YN fell asleep, but she couldn’t remember when. When she woke up, however, she was laying down, with the wolf’s massive head resting on her stomach. Absently, she strokes the soft fur around his ears, sighing and curling into the blanket. She can’t help but love the feeling of it between her fingers, smiling to herself as she thinks semi-clearly about the events of the night for the first time.

YN is completely shocked by the events thinking about them now. This giant wolf not only understands her, but he talks back. He was comfortable in her home, the doors were big enough to take him in easily, and he was oddly sweet, in making her finish the chicken. And to top it all off, he was severely injured! Taking a quick glance at the bandages, YN has a passing wonder as to how much healing the wolf had done overnight.

Quite suddenly, the wolf lets out a short growl, and YN jumps. The massive head lifts, looking her in the eye, her hand still tangled in the fur behind his ears. It seems like forever that the two stare at each other, eyes locked, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

He breaks the intense eye contact, turning his great head and yawning before standing. YN watches in awe as the wolf stretches, careful of his injury, before he turns back to look at her expectantly.

‘Eat?’

The voice, low and clear and much less pained, startles the girl into motion.

“Yes of course, let me make you some meat. How’s beef sound? I’ve still got a lot of that in the fridge.” YN stands, quickly clearing the blankets and pillow from the ground. Hearing no clear objections, YN heads into the kitchen, ready to prepare enough food to feed an army.

She doesn’t pay too much attention to where the wolf is or what he is doing, but she can feel his eyes following her from one place to the other, and she can feel the draft from the door that he had nudged open. Quietly, she explains what she’s doing to the wolf, wanting him to be comfortable.

She couldn’t have explained why she felt the need to tell the wolf everything she was doing, but for some reason she felt that it was important that this wolf trusted her.

It is because of this that YN is in the middle of explaining why she prefers to use one seasoning brand over the other when the wolf lets out an ear-shatteringly loud howl. She flinches so hard she almost spills the cooking meat, hands flying to cover her sensitive ears as she whips around to find where the wolf is and what he’s doing.

The great wolf, his beautiful black coat shining in the morning light, is standing just outside her back door, eyes gliding over the trees as he lets out another howl, his face turning up to the sky. He looks like he is waiting for a response, and YN can tell that he got one when his head snaps sharply to the left of the small path YN loved to take.

Quite suddenly, the wolf turns around, padding back into the house and partially shutting the door behind him. He leaves enough room that he could stick his nose or paw into the crack and open it if he needed to, giving himself an out. YN lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when the wolf returns to lazily lying in a patch of sun in the kitchen, his attention fully on YN and her movements while she makes the food. For whatever reason, she didn’t want the wolf to leave just yet.

~~~

The rest of the morning and the afternoon go well, with no hitches or startles. YN quickly falls into the habit of telling the wolf all the things she’s doing, not wanting him to be startled by anything she’s doing, and the wolf just watches her, not reacting much to what she does, and instead occasionally bumping his head into her hand for a light scratch behind the ears.

When YN changed his bandage after they ate, she was shocked to see how much he had healed. While the wound was still clearly very tender, it looked like it had been healing for weeks or months instead of just a few hours. YN shook it off, deciding that it was just some strange ability this even stranger wolf had. It had been shown to her clearly before this point that he was special in more ways than one, so why not have accelerated healing?

After the bandages were changed, and YN told the wolf just how well he was healing, the pair went back into the living area. YN took a seat on the lovely leather couch her uncle had left her, taking her usual seat and telling the wolf that he could come up if he wanted and was able. With a small noise that YN couldn’t place, the wolf clambered onto the sofa, laying his great head in her lap again.

Without a second thought, YN turns on the TV and absently begins to stroke the fur around the wolf’s ears, relaxing at the repetitive motion and mindless noise. Together, they sit like that for a few hours, both of them resting and healing and mulling over the events that had happened to both of them.

~~~

There they stayed, for a long while, both half asleep and mulling over the events of the past 24 hours. YN was slowly coming to terms with everything that had been happening around her, with all of the weird things this strange, inky wolf could do. Absently, she wondered what else the wolf could do, and if the fanciful bedtime stories her uncle used to tell her were actually true.

The wolf seemed to be resting peacefully, seemingly completely unaware of the turmoil swirling around in YN’s head. The wolf was just waiting, wondering when the rest of his pack would get there, and what the determination about YN would be. He knew that, despite his growing fondness for the strange human, if the rest of the pack didn’t share his liking for her, he would be forced to do things he would rather not do.

When the door bursts open, YN might as well have jumped completely out of her skin. When before there was relative silence and peace, the room now had an unknown number of bodies snarling and pawing around. YN was understandably terrified, not having any idea as to what was going on or how that would affect her.

The black wolf that she had been sharing her home with for the past day rose to his feet, eyeing up the other wolves that had entered the room. YN could feel the tension as the black wolf snarled, snapping as the other wolves did the same. All she could think about were the sharp, gleaming teeth and huge bodies around her in a way that was almost suffocating.

Fear was rolling off the girl in waves, to the point that the wolves all were put on edge, looking for a threat deserving of that great amount of terror.

It takes a couple minutes, but eventually all the bodies in the room calm down. YN gets off the couch and heads towards the kitchen, giving herself the illusion of an escape that puts her mind at ease. At this point, she is able to see that a beautiful grey wolf and two light brown wolves have joined the black wolf she had opened her home to.

Her living area is filled with the sounds of the wolves “talking” to each other, which YN decides not to break until there is a reason to.

‘Who are you?’

Once again, the voice is directly in YN’s head, but this time it isn’t the black wolf. It seems to be coming from the grey wolf, but YN couldn’t be sure of that.

“I’m YN, I moved in a few months ago. My uncle left me the house when he passed.” She answers simply, eyes flitting between the new wolves as “her” wolf comes to stand beside her. There seems to be some sort of silent communication going on between them that YN isn’t privy to, though she feels that it’s important for some reason she can’t place her finger on.

‘Niece? Good.’

The same voice is in her head, and the fierce look in the eyes of the wolves fades into a softer, more general one. YN is confused by the statement, and the actions, remaining on edge, awkwardly shifting on her feet.

“So, uh, do you guys want some of the beef I made earlier? I don’t know how far you guys have gone or have yet to go but food’s always a good idea, right?” YN can feel her ears burning with an unknown embarrassment, as she looks between all of the wolves before her.

One of the light brown wolves yelps and heads towards YN, who puts her hands up on instinct, fear rising in her chest that she was going to be the one on the menu. Instead of attacking her through, the massive animal licks her palms, yelping some more as the word ‘eat’ is exclaimed into her mind.

Letting out a little giggle and petting the massive head before her, YN is put more at ease, smiling as she turns and walks into the kitchen properly.

“Well, I’m not quite sure how I’ll do this, because I only have one of these big bowls and there are four of you here, but I’ll figure it out.” YN muses to herself, again telling the wolves everything she’s doing so they don’t think she’s up to something, completely unaware of the fact that each and every one of the wolves in her home can read every one of her thoughts with complete and utter ease.

“Oh! I have a baking sheet! I can just put it on there and you guys can share, yeah?” YN asks, dropping to her knees to rustle through a cabinet and find the baking sheet in question. Hearing no complaints, YN prepares the meat for the wolves, placing it carefully on the floor, holding onto one corner so it wouldn’t slide around on them. The two brown wolves quickly move to take tentative bites, the more playful of the two occasionally tossing his head over towards YN to receive a few scratches before returning to his eating.

Once they finish, YN takes and dutifully cleans all the dishes she had made that day, ears straining to make sure she wouldn’t be attacked from behind, but yet trusting them enough to turn her back to them. She sings softly as she works, playful kid songs that she used to sing with her grandparents as she did her chores, inadvertently playing those loving memories for the wolves in her room as she does so.

By the time she has finished with her chores, she turns to find the black wolf asleep directly behind her in a nice patch of sun, the grey wolf is carefully watching her actions from the corner of the room, and the two brown wolves laying further away, also having found nice patches of sun to lay in. YN smiles to herself, finding the sight of the wolves lounging in her space oddly sweet, before stepping over the black wolf, crouching down beside the great beast, giving him a few soft pets to partially rouse him, waiting for his eyes to open before letting him know that she would be checking his wounds and changing his bandages.

She could feel the shift in tone as the great wolf let out a bit of a whine as the bandages come off, the others perking up a bit to watch what YN was doing, immediately ready to jump to his defense if she were to try to hurt the wounded wolf any more.

Weary of the eyes on her, YN sets about making sure that she has everything she needs to clean the wound and change the bandages with as little pain to the wolf as possible.

“Alright wolf, this is the part that stings, I’m so sorry.” She mutters under her breath as she does what has to be done, impressed by the amount of healing that’s been done already.

“At this rate, you’ll be good to go by late tonight or early tomorrow morning.” YN sighs, taking the old bandages and throwing them out, before turning towards the wolves again.

Checking the time, YN shakes her head and explains to the wolves that she is going to go to the study and write, as that’s what she usually does during this time, and that they are welcome to come with her if they want to. Turning on her heel, she heads towards the study on the second floor, fully expecting the wolves to either leave, or to just stay where they were. She really did have work to get done, regardless of the strange wolves that seemed way too comfortable in her space. Deadlines were deadlines, and she really didn’t want to have to crunch out a crap chapter for her editor, regardless of everything going on around her.

What YN didn’t expect was for the black wolf to follow right behind her, limping slightly as he goes, but following nonetheless. Or for the two brown wolves to half-bark at each other, following behind their inky counterpart much more playfully, bumping into each other in a way that YN would have said must have been painful. Or for the grey wolf to follow behind them, much more somber than the duo in front of him, moving smoothly and surprisingly silently through the house.

“You do know there’s no sun to lay in, the study is the innermost room. Please don’t mess anything up, if you can help it, the study is my private place, really.” YN speaks much softer than she had been, causing the wolves to pay more attention to her words than before, feeling the importance of them.

She opens the door, smiling to herself at the sight of the beautiful old books, the scattered journals, the overstuffed-and-ancient chairs, the slightly dusty paintings on the walls from artists YN couldn’t hope to know, the soft lighting, everything. It was comforting, but packed full of memories, some of which were still too painful and fresh to think of.

YN heads over to the giant desk, opening her laptop and settling into the seat. She was aware of the four pairs of eyes that followed her movements, and she similarly followed theirs as they each found areas to curl up in. The grey wolf stayed by the door, facing it as if to make sure nobody tried to come in. The two brown wolves circled around the room a bit, before settling down by the overstuffed couch against one of the walls, both of them moving around periodically. Something in the back of YN’s mind told her that they were young, restless in a way that gave away their age.

It was the black wolf, however, that captured most of YN’s attention. He decided to place himself directly behind the huge desk chair, similarly positioned to the grey wolf, in the way that he seemed to be there for some sort of protection. She thought it was strange, the way these giant wolves were being so gentle, so protective.

They settle in like that, with YN quickly getting immersed in the chapter she needed to finish, words flowing out of her in a way that made her feel almost buzzed. She loved that feeling- the feeling of creating, of making something out of nothing and breathing life into something so dead as a piece of paper or a computer screen.

The whole scene was peaceful, in her opinion. She felt protected, she had ideas flowing out of her, and despite the fact the desk and it’s accompanying chair were both way too big for her and a little uncomfortable, she absolutely adored the study and all it had to offer. For whatever reason, it felt to her like home- the wolves in her space, the ideas, the old-artsy style of the room, all of it.

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ask-the-friendly-ink-demon · 1 year

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Inkwell Hell, Chapter 1- The King Of All Demons

Plot: every story has a beginning, and a end. but how do they all start out? how do they end? From an world that was united as one, to a whole multiverse being created as a result of an war gone wrong, everything has to start somewhere, in this universe though, is where the story truly begins for someone, and a certain little demon. The Past can never truly Go Away. welcome to how it all begins welcome. to the start, of the terrors, of the inky past within Joey Drew Studios.

Chapter Summary: For Eons ago before the multiverse was created, they were all one entire universe, where everything was conjoined as one, and there was only one being in the whole universe at that time that was the only life, The Cosmic Entity. Though eventually after life slowly began on earth thanks to a meteorite, the Cosmic gets a idea and uses the remains of the meteorite to create the very thing that would eventually become the demons, but it all started, with the very first ones in the universe, with the last of the originals, becoming the King of all demons itself, Arzaxoth. ---

It is finally here, i’ve been waiting forever to show this. but seeing how i only got three chapters so far done ever since i made it in 2021 to mid 2022, i feel like i can show you all this so far for the time being, this and the next two chapters afterwards that i’ll also be linking after this post, are mainly backstory stuff for the demon within prowler, with any other characters mentioned OVERALL IN THE AU ITSELF AS EITHER PHYSICALLY APPEARING OR SIMPLY CAMEOS belonging to amazing friends of mine, mainly @sammys-sanctuary @ask-soul-bendy @outcast-shadow @tkvulturez @thesoftbean @core4lost and a few others that i sadly do not remember or do not interact with much anymore bUT YEAH, here IT IS FINALLY. well, here is the LINK! That is right, i am not going to be doing what i did with the last one, cause one, way to time consuming, two, i don’t want to suffer FJDKGHDFKHK and three. i’ve seen others do the same thing with their fanfics of their aus so YEAH. this is just something im trying out, that is all! enjoy the first chapter of the prologue to terrors of the inky past! and the LORE enjoy :) https://archiveofourown.org/works/33117046/chapters/82212157

#The Memories (Lore)#Terrors Of The Inky Past AU #King Of All Demons (Arzaxoth)#Backstory Stuff #this has been in the burner for #a while now #so im sorry that this uhh took me basically 3 years to finally show #I WANTED TO WAIT UNTIL I GOT ALL THE CHAPTERS FOR THE PROLOGUE DONE.#BUT BRAIN SAID NO #SO YEAH #friends's Characters #Sister Of The King (Azzy)#The Outsider Among Demons (Alder)#The Guardian Of The King (Jeonsa)#Creator Of The Multiverse In Essence (The Cosmic Entity)#i may update this if i see anything not in line with the new lore i have in store #but yeah #HAVE FUN #IT'S FINALLLY HEREEEEE #REAL AND TRUE BOYS #gonna be linking the next two chapters pretty soon so yeah expect two more posts LOL #The Alpha Among Demons (Kodai)#The Guardian Of Demons (Senshi)#The Punisher Among Demons (HABIT)#The Kingdom Of Arzaxoth (Prologue Prologue Verse)

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poison--ivory · 3 years

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Haikyuu! Virus AU (Random/Reader) Part 1

“I don’t fear the dark itself, but what may lurk within it.”

Warning: Blood, Gore, Character deaths and trauma

Part 2: link

Yamaguchi loathed the inky room of which he sat in. The only source of light that gave him some comfort was the natural light of the moon. Since the power in the city was out you could hear the wind blowing or the soft barking of dogs. He could barely make out the outline of team Nekoma’s manager, Y/n Shibayama. She was already knocked out as soon as her head hit the makeshift pillow. While he was wide awake, and sort of jealous that she could just sleep like everything was fine. He can’t stay mad at her for too long since her school lost their middle blocker, So Inuoka. Their team captain hasn’t been the same since. Not even a couple hours ago they too had lost another member of their group.

Ennoshita screams still wrecked his mind and the smell of rotting flesh was forever inscribed in his nose. It really should have been him who went in that trench by himself. He was the one to point out the food truck and even made a small plan to gather the canned goods. Ennoshita and him had a little dispute on who would go and by the time he turned his head to give his side to Daichi, Ennoshita was already marching down the steep hill. A couple of seconds of arguing, before he heard the sharp screech, loud enough to pierce his ear drums. The next thing he knew, Suga and Yaku were rushing down the hill to try and save him. They stopped half way before running back, a herd surrounded Ennoshita in under a minute leaving little to no gaps for escape or retrieval.

He knew deep down that it was his fault even if the others told him that there was nothing that could have been done. Yamaguchi knew that if he kept his mouth shut Ennoshita would still be alive, yelling at his second year teammates and patting us first years on the head. He tried everything to get his mind off the details, the screams and the stench. Yamaguchi’s mind even makes up certain info to scar his psyche.

Ennoshita wasn’t the only causality. At the very beginning of the outbreak, which to him felt like years, but in reality it was really a few weeks. Karasuno, Nekoma, Fukurodani, Ubugawa and Shinzen planned a last get together for the graduating third years. They all met at the training camp to play volleyball, visit Tokyo and to gain a few memories before they graduate. Really sunny that, but it wasn’t as hot, mostly a comfortable warmth that hugged his whole stature.

When it started the Yamaguchi and some of the other first years were gallery gazing at the various window shops. Yuki Shibayama was buying a couple sticks of dango for his sister, Tsukishima made a small remark of him being a real sister boy. Haiba at the time seemed to be annoying a very displeased Teshiro. A small and weak yell was heard, however it was quickly brushed off due to the large crowd. Yamaguchi stopped at a food stall that sold fries, even though they weren’t soft as he wanted them, they still tasted pretty good. Hinata and Kageyama were arguing about something. Yachi stood in the middle to make them stop their yelling since they started to draw a small crowd. Another scream echoed this time a bit more heavier. The noise left his heart beating a bit faster; it sounded kind of. . . primal. Before he could react another yell followed by a wave of screeching rang throughout the air. The howling caused even the duo to shut up for once.

He froze in place as a girl who looked no older than thirteen, a middle schooler was pinned down a lady. Her shrieks sent shivers down his spine, her dog bit the neck of the lady who fell off to the side trampled by oncoming people. The dog licking the girl’s cheek in a loving manner didn’t sense the sudden change in his owner. Her small frame was on him in a second tearing fur and flesh off his yelps and whine would fall on death ears. He managed to escape, but the large chunk left a noticeable hole in his side. Yamaguchi felt useless in that moment, his feet glued to the very dry cement he stood on. He turned to stare at Tsuki who was too engaged in his phone to notice what was transpiring around him. Yamaguchi's hand reached out for his friend, however in a split second Tsukishima was yanked from behind by a man, who looked extremely ill. Everything played in slow motion as the man bit Tsukishima on the neck and in complete shock elbowed the man square in the face. Clenching at the wound to dull the jarring pain.

Blood flowed down his neck and coated his white shirt, his headphones ripped off his ears hitting the pavement with a harsh smack. Yamaguchi remembered running to aid his best friend, dropping the fries in the process, his mind running faster than his legs and before he could even inch forward the same man and a woman gripped Tsukishima and tore his skin from his flesh. His gut wrenching screams through terror into his heart. Witnessing his childhood friend being eaten alive was a pill he tried swallowing, but soon regurgitated it back up. Throw up ran down his chin as Kageyama shoved him forward making him trip on ground beneath him. Yamaguchi noticed Hinata yelling at a very dumbfound Yachi, she stood there frozen, shaking and stunned by the madness happening around her. Everyone knew she was a very anxious and scared teenage girl, even suppressing a scream when she met the captain from Ubugawa again.

Hinata’s pleading fell on deaf ears as Yachi stared off into the chaos, her mouth slightly shifting like she was mumbling under her breath. He shouted at her as well, but Kageyama pulled him again, cutting him off half way. Yachi was lifted from her stupor the moment someone else bumped into her. She ran off so fast in the crowd shrieking before even Hinata couldn’t grab her and before he could run off to catch up with her Kageyama snatched him up from the back of his shirt. They sprinted through the thick crowd and with luck on their side made it back to the camp and collapsed on the grass from exhaustion. He took notice of the other first years slowly arriving, a dazed Inuoka clutched at his side. Haiba guided him down to the ground and ran inside. Tears fell on the back of his hands and they streamed down his face like a water spout. He lost two of his friends in less than thirty minutes that day and it wrecked him.

It sounds so much like the beginning of a movie more than anything. Even the part of when we thought everything was okay Inuoka transformed into one of those sick creatures. He tore out the throat of Nekoma’s team coach. Coach Ukai with the help of Daichi and Kuroo shoved the reanimated Inuoka out. No one talked as we listened to the moans and screeches constantly banging at the locked doors.

Yamaguchi snapped himself out of his depressing thoughts as a soft rustle startled him from the dark corner of the room.

“Go to sleep. I can feel your depressing aura from here.” Konoha grumbled.

“S-sorry.” His face grew warm from embarrassment.

Konoha groaned as he sat gazing over at one of his teammates. Washio was still sound asleep as Konoha shifted out of his own makeshift bed. “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah, my mind’s running faster than a rabbit right now.” Konoha nodded strutting across the room to my futon, sitting down on his rump and leaning on his head on his knee. “Sorry, that I woke you up.”

“Ya know it’s nearly morning, so don’t worry about it.” Yamaguchi just nodded. “Let’s just keep it down. I really don’t wanna hear Washio complain about us keeping him up.”

“Y-you don’t have to stay up with me. You don’t know when you can sleep peacefully again, ya know.”

“Nah, it’s fine already awake now and I don’t think I can force myself too either.” He gingerly smiled back at his senior. The two young men stayed up for the rest of the night mostly talking about anything that would keep their minds off their dead friends. They yammered on about family members and past friends that still lingered from childhood. Konoha mentioned his older brother and younger sister, but soon switched the topic. Yamaguchi talked about his mother, father and his grandmother who makes his fries extra floppy for him. The memories of sitting in his living room under the kotatsu with Tsuki. The air surrounding them would usually be scented with whatever his grandmother was cooking at the time. It really made him think about some of the embarrassing situations he was in with some family members. Now he kind of wants to wake up to that familiar smell of home cooked meals and laughter.

The conversations waived from school life, hobbies to old crushes. Yamaguchi had opened his mouth, but quickly closed it, he knew it was only a crush. But, knowing that the girl he liked was presumably dead made him suffer a wave of guilt. Konoha on the other hand was shyly gazing behind himself.

“You know, I kind of have or may have developed a small crush on their manager. During my first year, we met Nekoma for the first time. Her cheeks were so plump that they bounce when you pinch them.” His facial expression stayed the same, however his cheeks were heavily flushed. “She probably doesn’t like me in that way, and that’s fine. I just don’t want it to be weird.”

“I heard that confessing can make you feel better. Maybe, I don’t really have that much experience in this or any experience for the matter.” Yamaguchi shrugged.

Konoha tore his gaze from the small frame hidden under the thin covers. “Maybe, but when shit settles down I’ll do it. Right now, seems like a very bad time.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s the better option.”

Konoha glanced around the room, seeing that the room was being illuminated by the morning sun. “Guess we’ve been talking for a while now.” Stretching, the sound of joints cracking invaded their ears, “So, wanna come with me on morning prep?”

“Yeah, sure.”

So, the day starts over. The endless cycle that now fills Yamaguchi’s life starts anew.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu au #virus #self insert #kuroo x reader #tendou x reader #oikawa x reader #konoha x reader #character death #daichi x reader #suga x reader #zombie au #virus au #haikyuu!! au #Haikyuu zombie #Haikyuu zombie au #Haikyuu deaths

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wolveria · 4 years

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Unable to perceive the shape of you - Ch. 9 [End]

Pairing: Connor x f!Reader x Nines

Summary: After breaking the RK twins out of the MarineLife facility, you were determined to return them to the ocean before getting caught by your employer.

What you hadn’t counted on were the brothers deciding you belonged to them.

Prompt: Mermay! (Shape of Water/Splash AU)

Word Count: 1.8k

AO3

There was nothing in the bitterly cold darkness. Just a sea of inky black where you were lost and unable to remember.

There was something important you had to recall… but you were very, very tired. Hadn’t you struggled on for long enough? Wouldn’t it have been easier just to sleep and forget the events that were already slipping from your mind?

You might have surrendered to the nothingness, but the frozen sea around you was illuminated with a soft glow. The light increased, shining brighter, blue and luminous from two pairs of hands, touching you with a tenderness that was achingly familiar. It called you back, pulled you away from the edge of nothing.

That’s when the burning started. Igniting you from the inside out, molten liquid in your veins as unbearably agony dug into your stomach.

You tried to scream, but you had no voice. No air. There was nothing you could do but suffer, because there was no enduring this.

When you thought you couldn’t withstand the molten fire under your skin, you did. The heat moved from your chest and stomach down to your legs. The agony worsened beyond anything you imagined was even possible.

The hands were still cradling you with gentle firmness as if trying to comfort, but you knew this had to be Hell. Punished for some terrible deed you could almost remember.

What had you done to deserve this?

I failed them.

With a shuddering gasp, you opened your eyes. Clear, bright sunlight caused you to blink rapidly, your heaving chest taking in the salty air. It was cold against your heated skin.

Everything around you was the exact opposite of the damnation you’d expected to find. Shimmering blue water expanded out before you as far as the eye could see, lazy seagulls wheeling overhead against the cloudless sky.

Barely able to move, your limbs uncooperative and heavy, you turned your head and saw you were lying on a sandbar, barely crested above the waterline. You were propped up against something warm and alive.

Your heart leapt in your chest as adrenaline surged through your body. Everything was too much. Too loud and too bright, and there was an animal panic rising to the surface you couldn’t control.

Someone spoke a name, you thought it might be yours, and a hand reached toward you.

Snarling, you bit down on the pale, muscled forearm. Warm, blue fluid filled your mouth; you almost let go but you were too terrified to do anything but latch on tighter.

Words were shouted in a panic. Your brain was slow to catch onto them, struggling to form them into something you could understand.

“Nines!”

“I’m fine, Connor.”

The voices spoke above you. Again, you felt that sense of familiarity, but you also noted the deeper timber of their words. They were larger than you, bigger and stronger. You ground your teeth down harder, trembling and growling in your throat.

“Don’t move,” the second voice spoke again. “Give her space. She feels threatened.”

It took you a moment to process that they were talking about you. There was an undertone of concern there. As if…

…they knew you.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

The lab… driving in the car… the motel pool…

Your jaw went lax.

The campsite… the bridge… the river. Gunshots ripping you open. Nines unmoving on the ground. Connor, in agony, but still trying to comfort you in your last moments.

Releasing your hold on Nines’ arm, you finally lifted your head.

Connor stared down at you from where he was kneeling on the sand, hands curled into fists on his thighs and his face pale. You’d never seen him look so worried before, as if he wanted to reach out but held himself back.

You tilted your chin up to realize your head was resting on Nines’ crossed legs. They were both naked and without their tails, and you saw pale star-shaped scars on their skin. Two on Nines’ torso, one each on Connor’s chest and thigh.

The gunshot wounds. They had healed through them. They were alive. Impossibly, incredibly alive. And somehow, so were you.

“H…How…”

Your voice was hoarse and abused, barely sounding like you at all. You tried to sit up but Connor placed a hand on your bare shoulder. You, too, were naked, and you should have been freezing in the chilly water and morning air. Why weren’t you cold? Instead, you felt almost… warm. As if the earlier fire was still inside you, reduced to a faintly glowing pile of embers.

“You shouldn’t move.” There was something in Connor’s tone that set the hairs on the back of your neck upright. “Just… stay still for a while.”

Frowning, you tried to pull your legs up so you could at least turn toward the two brothers to speak—

Panicked welled inside you. Thrashing clumsily, terror gripped your throat as you writhed on the sand.

“I can’t—I can’t move my legs!”

Nines’ hands were on your arms to hold you still, but you twisted harder, feeling a dull, strange movement in your lower body as you heard the sound of splashing seawater.

Connor was at your side in an instant, your face in his hands as he tried to get you to look up at him, but it was too late. You’d already looked down.

You shook off their hands, propping yourself up on your elbows as your heart thudded in your chest. The slapping sound of the water stopped as the panicked limb stopped thrashing.

“…oh,” was all you said as you stared at the sleek, muscled fin that used to be your legs.

You couldn’t stop staring at it. It was impossible, and yet there it was, staring you in the face. An actual, real tail. Thousands of questions should have been flooding your mind. How this was possible? What exactly had they done to you? Why had no one documented this kind of transformation before?

All the questions were silenced as you reached a tentative hand forward and touched where your thighs used to be. It was warm and rubbery under your fingertips, the pattern a sort of greyscale gradient. The fin was dark along the back, grey along the sides, and a pure white on the underbelly.

You gave it an exploratory pull on a muscle you had no idea how to use, and the fin twitched in response. It definitely didn’t seem as deft and precise as a pair of legs, but you could sense the power lingering in the muscle mass.

You could have stared at it forever, but you eventually tore your eyes away to look back up at the brothers. Connor’s expression was wide and vulnerable while Nines was closed and grim.

“We… we didn’t know what else to do.” Connor’s voice was tight, as if on the verge of panic himself. “You were dying. We had no choice.”

“There was no other way,” Nines added, softer than his brother. “Allowing you to die was… unacceptable.”

“You’re… one of us now.” Connor bit the inside of his cheek, brown eyes wide as he silently pled with you. “Please… don’t be angry. We had to-to do something.”

“Angry? Connor, you…”

You found it difficult to speak past the tightness of your throat. You forced it through, needing them to understand there was only one wrong that had taken place, and it wasn’t theirs.

“You… you saved me. If anyone’s sorry, it’s me.”

You lowered your gaze to the bite mark on Nines’ arm that was still trickling blue, but the apology was meant for so much more than that.

“I... made a promise to keep you safe, and I broke it. I let you both down.”

The lump in your throat grew as your eyes burned and your vision blurred.

“I should have known… it wouldn’t be that simple to get you home. That someone was following us. I should have known Gavin—“

It wasn’t Connor who moved toward you first, but Nines; he pulled you into his arms and against his chest, holding you tightly. Connor joined him immediately after, one hand planted on your back while he pressed his cheek against your shoulder.

Your world narrowed down until there was nothing but you and the brothers. That was appropriate, because they were your world, and without them you would have lost everything that made it warm and beautiful and alive.

Connor and Nines said nothing, allowing you to fall apart within their arms, your soft sobs barely heard above the lapping water. Words were unnecessary, always had been with the two of them. You’d understood them, truly and in all the ways that mattered, before they’d ever said a word.

One of them softly stroked your hair while the other trailed his fingers along your back. You didn’t know which touch belonged to whom, and in the end, it didn’t matter. You loved them both with everything that you had left in you to give.

You clung to them both as tightly as possible, unable to truly believe they were here, alive, and you were there with them. All of your knowledge and education and expertise told you it shouldn’t be possible.

Perhaps humans had a lot to learn about what that word actually meant.

They held you until the last of your tears dried and your hitching breaths had become smooth breathing. You didn’t want to move, wrapped in solid warmth that made you feel truly safe in such a long time, but the strange, new limb was already itching to be used. It flexed almost on its own, gently flicking at the water as if it knew exactly what it was meant for.

And you realized, for the first time in as long as you could remember, there was no pain.

Too soon, Connor and Nines pulled away, their hands never leaving your skin. Now that they were touching you, they seemed as reluctant to let go as you were.

“What do we do now?” you asked as you looked up at them, feeling for the first time that you were the one out of your element, relying on them for guidance. The future was tenuous and unknown, and you hadn’t begun to figure out what it meant yet.

Nines’ brows rose as a subtle curve touched the corners of his lips. But Connor’s smile was wide enough to show teeth, his eyes bright and full of something too indescribable for you to name.

“Now,” he said. “We swim.”

Unable to perceive the shape of You,

I find You all around me.

Your presence fills my eyes with Your love.

It humbles my heart,

For You are everywhere.

#detroit become human #detroit: become human #connor x reader #nines x reader #mermay #mermaid!Connor #mermaid!nines #rk800 x reader #rk900 x reader #rk1700 x reader #my writing #my fanfiction #unable to perceive the shape of you

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

Beautiful, Beloved (8/8)

Titanic!AU Kylo Ren x Reader

7.6k ; Warnings: Angst.

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

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

There was nothing around you, in that moment.

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

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

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

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

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

Your defiance would shake the stars.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the emergency power began to shut off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One,” Kylo said,

“Two,” You looked down into the ocean,

“…Three!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Much time passed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or was it a sigh? You didn’t know.

You were just thankful for it at all.

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N).” Kylo said, a warning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” Kylo asked, and you nodded.

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

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

“I have seen god and she wears your face,” He whispered, a secret just for you and the ocean, “That is how much you mean to me.”

“I wish I could kiss you, but I –” You tried to reach for him to, but to your panic your arms would not respond. They were too heavy, they would not lift, and you leaned into his hand, eyes pinched tight, “Kylo I c-c-cannot move.”

“You don’t have to, not right now.” He replied, carding his fingers through your hair, “Just stay alive, stay with me, keep breathing, wiggle your fingers, your toes.”

“I’m so cold.” You wanted to whine, wanted to complain, but the words came out devoid of any emotion, simply a fact stated. You were struggling to put together real sentences, the cold sapping away all ability for anything other than breathing.

“They’re coming for us, I swear to you (Y/N).” Kylo mumbled, his words slurring together with great difficulty too. “You know, when all of this is over and we are in our nice soft bedding with our hot tea, I’m going to call my lawyers and we are going to sue the White Star Line blind. How does that sound?”

“M-m-m-marvelous.” You laughed together, trying desperately to stay together, to stay sane. Had that already flown out the window?

“(Y/N) darling I need you to talk to me, okay?” Kylo continued to card through your hair, the chunks of ice melting underneath his touch. “I cannot see you, it is too dark, you must keep talking to me so I know you’re alright.”

“W-what shall I say?” You whispered, voice raspy, throat shredded up from the crying, the screams, the cold.

“Anything, anything at all, please.” He said, nudging your foot, “Wiggle your toes for me.”

“Are – ” You struggled for a long while to get the words out around your chattering teeth. Your tongue filled your mouth but was so heavy it would not cooperate, you felt like you were made of an anchor, wondered how you managed to stay afloat. “Are we going to have to board a cruise ship back home?”

“No, I’ll charter a private plane for us.” Kylo said straight away, “We won’t ever go on a boat again, after we are rescued.”

It was a promise, and Kylo, oh your Kylo. He never broke a promise.

But then, then you remembered the estate. Remembered how beautiful it was with its yellow brick and sprawling gardens. You remembered flowers, memories of peonies, irises, lavender, delphiniums, edgings of bergenia, and foxgloves filled your vision. You remembered the sun shining and sparkling on water.

“Perhaps,” You were delusional, you had to have been, “Perhaps we may get a small boat, one for the lake.”

“The lake?” Kylo asked, confused as he hugged himself around your legs in the same manner you did his.

“P-p-pond, the pond at home.” You corrected, did your best to explain, did your best to keep talking. “When I saw it, I thought oh how nice it would b-b-b-be, to have a rowboat.”

“Tell me about the pond, (Y/N).” Kylo sighed against you, and you swallowed, swallowed again, tried to get the words to come.

“There were swans, and a willow tree. The branches cascaded down into the water, leaves rippling the surface. Oh I’m so cold, Kylo.” You whispered, eyes closing slowly.

“I know, I know but you will be warm soon.” Kylo combed your hair away and cupped your cheek, pinched and prodded at your flesh so blood could rush there, could keep you alive. “There will be blankets and hot beverages and I will kiss you until the blood returns to your cheeks. I will wash away the frost from your eyelashes with my very hands, but you must tell me more about the pond first.”

Before you could though, something knocked against the side of the panel. It was small and light, rocking atop the water.

“What is that, that noise?” You were curious but terrified at the same time.

“I don’t know, I cannot see. Can you reach it?” Kylo replied, his body mostly on the other end of the panel, leaving it up to you to lean over and fish around for the small object.

“It’s a whistle, it’s come up onto the paneling.” You noted, raising it to your lips with numb fingers. You could not muster your lungs to blow and handed it to Kylo with a sigh, “I-I’m afraid I haven’t the breath.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry I’m right here.” He raised the whistle to his lips and blew, took in a deep breath and blew out a long steady tone that carried itself across the water, out to lifeboats far far far in the distance. And then, then he struggled to prop himself up just enough to point, “Look – (Y/N) look, do you see it?”

You could see nothing, nothing at all, until – until!

“Are those…?” You gasped, pushed yourself up enough too, disbelief and shock and the thrill of adrenaline and excitement giving you this much, giving you that much energy to prop yourself up just a few inches off the panel.

“Lights, in the distance. We are saved -- oh blossom, we are saved.” Kylo thudded back down onto the wood, blew and blew and blew the whistle.

“Tell me now, tell me how much you love me now.” You demanded.

“You’re so…” He blew into the whistle, took all the strength he had and blew into that damned whistle, signaling the ship, your savior, your rescuer, “Bossy.”

“I am bossy, and you love me.” You coughed and wheezed, your teeth chattering bones rattling. It was so cold, but you were saved, the ship was coming, it was only a little while longer now.

“I do,” Kylo agreed, his stomach rising and falling rapidly, trying to blow the whistle harder, make the sound louder. “I love you more than anything in this whole world. Do you know, my entire life I dreamt of someone like you? In my darkest hours all I asked for, was someone to love me for me.”

“I – I daresay there are no darker hours than these,” Your body trembled, shock taking over you. “And you have me. I love you Kylo, and I am more grateful for you than for the air in my lungs.”

“There was a little girl, her name is Ruth.” He said apropos of nothing, his voice soft. “You should have seen her. She had her eyes.”

“She can come back with us, if she’s got no one left.” You let your eyes close, for there was little to worry about now. “She can come with us and Rose and Dopheld, when we find them. We will all pile into a plane and fly home.”

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

The next time you opened your eyes, it was not to darkness.

“The sky is pink.” You whispered, for you had no more strength than that, nothing left in you than that.

Kylo had blown the whistle for what seemed like an eternity, and the sounds of a ship had grown louder and louder. You could hear sailors now, could hear the slap of oars of lifeboats heading towards you. You could hear them shouting, calling, begging for survivors to make themselves known, and Kylo had blown his whistle, and they had heard.

You opened your eyes to a pink sky, the night finally over.

Dawn, a sunrise, a new day.

“That it is.” Kylo agreed, and you struggled to open your eyes, struggled to do anything at all as he continued, “The sun has risen, and we have made it. We just have to wait a little longer. We have waited this long, we can wait a little longer.”

You took in the sights around you, and nausea washed over your brain.

“Kylo…Kylo there are so many people.” You watched as their bodies bobbed like buoys, held afloat only by the lifejackets which in the end, did nothing to save them. A sea of white jackets, a sea of bodies carefully being nudged aside, pushed and pulled by the gentle wake of water, water which claimed them.

“Keep your eyes up blossom, keep looking up.” Kylo insisted, tried to comfort you, “Look at the sky, watch the sunrise.”

But you realized, if the sun was up, and you could see the bodies and the sky and the water surrounding you, then you could see him too, and you much rather would see him too.

“No, no I want to look at you. I haven’t seen you in so long.” You shuffled around on the piece of wood, which now in the light of day you saw to indeed be a piece of the ship’s side paneling.

“Move a little to the side, and there we are – ” Kylo said, as you both moved yourselves enough to be in full view of the other. He smiled at you, his lips were cracked and his skin was pale but he was smiling at you. “There you are.”

You drank in the sight of him, of his proud nose, his big ears. How you loved those ears, you began to cry, began to cry just at the sight of him smiling at you, looking so young. His suit was dark with water, and his cheeks were sallow, hair clinging in little strands against his forehead.

He was the most magnificent thing you had ever seen.

“You are so handsome, darling.” You whispered, resting your head against his legs and offering him a smile.

Kylo reached down to you, tucked some of your hair behind your ear in the way you had always done for him, looking at you – really looking at you.

“And you are beautiful, beloved.” He whispered right back.

You laughed then, laughed and cried with tears of joy as the sun rose and the lifeboats of the Carpathia made their way to you, pulling survivors out of the Atlantic water. So many had perished, so many would be lost to the sea forever, but somehow, somehow somehow somehow, you would not be one of them.

And while you wait for your rescue, as the sky bloomed into the pinks oranges yellows purple blues of sunrise, all you can do is laugh and smile at your husband, this man who had once been a stranger now seemed the most important thing you held in your heart. Before all of this, you had met three times; the first, an introduction. The second, a lunch. The third, your wedding.

Could such strong bonds be made in such short a time as a honeymoon aboard the ill-fated Titanic?

Yes.

Yes they could.

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

The End.

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Tagging some friends: @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @goodboybensolo @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan @flapjacques @thepilotanon @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @runhbo @theold-ultraviolence @og-selene

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren reader insert #titanic au #titanic!kylo #edwardian au #historically accurate au #my writing #beautiful beloved #kylo ren smut #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren angst #the end :)

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