#it feels like a proper look back across my journey with these two must feature the three steambabies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kosmosguk · 4 years

Text

Lineage (M) | 3

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader; Duke Namjoon x Princess Reader (one-sided)

Word Count: 8.7K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Warnings: HEAVY yandere themes, mentions of gore and death, future major character(s) death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, SMUT (cunnilingus; a whole 1.5k of pure smut: blindfolded, unprotected sex; exhibitionism; a bit of breeding), 18+, explicit language, self-loathing

A/N: Finally! The banquet scene (and a wonderful helping of Namjoon) is here! I hope you guys stick with Lineage and me to the very end of our journey <3 This chapter took a bit of time to write (can’t believe it’s 3k more words than the last part). Please, if you liked this part, comment or leave a detailed review (reading them makes me super happy and motivated)! Thank you for 2.6k+ followers :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

“Namjoon?’’

He stood up and turned around to look at you. Though he now had an aura, both elegant and cold, that was similar to the Duke’s, you could recognize that face anywhere. His expression was schooled into a composed and almost frigid look, a look that sent shivers down your spine. However, as soon as you felt goosebumps rising on your skin, his expression turned warm. It almost felt like you were imagining the coldness you had felt from him before. He smiled at you in the same manner that he had done when he had been posing as a messenger, his dimples flashing in his cheeks, though you did not notice that his eyes continued to remain cold.

“Your Highness,’’ he paused in his speaking,’’ Well, I suppose it’d be more proper to refer to you as a Duchess now. It’s been a while, has it not?’’

“It has,’’ your words stiffened as your mind spun in confusion,’’ been a while. I apologize for impolitely referring to you by your first name. If you are a close acquaintance with my husband, then you must be…’’

Your voice trailed off as you looked at him in an unsure manner. Namjoon chuckled at your attempt to mask your apparent uncertainty. The icy coldness in his eyes had melted somewhat.

“I’m of the House of Kim. We are on the same level when it comes to status, so you don’t have to act so…stiff around me, and I will take the opportunity to do the same as well. Last time I met you, you were much more carefree than the you of now, Duchess Min.’’

“I suppose you are correct with that, Duke Kim. It’s rather shameful to think of the way I greeted you back then, but that shame seems to dissipate when I recall the way you had taken on the identity of a servant, Duke Kim.’’ You dropped the stiff façade you had put on yourself, and your tone was light instead of accusatory. Your shoulders, which had been squared in an uncomfortably rigid posture, relaxed a little bit, and you couldn’t help the genuine smile that bloomed across your lips. “Now, what event brings you to a meeting with me? I believe you would rather meet with the Duke instead.’’

Namjoon paused, as if he was thinking of an answer. Whatever answer rang through his head must’ve been amusing, with the way his noble features had tilted up in a slightly playful expression.

“The Duke is not someone who throws a birthday banquet, or any banquet really. The typical complaint of the people on the territory is that there is little festivity outside of the annual week that celebrates the Kingdom’s establishment. A bit dreary, isn’t it, though I hope you take no offense at my comment.’’ Namjoon’s tone was almost teasing, and you curved your lips up lightly to show that you didn’t. “I owe the Duke a favor, and since the Duke rarely uses a favor, I believe doing something for you would equate the same as paying back the favor. And besides, helping you prepare for the birthday banquet would be the same as helping Yoongi.’’

You paused as you thought over your response. True, it would be very helpful to have a more experienced noble assist you in preparing for your first banquet—it was even more pressuring to hear that the Duke of Min rarely held a banquet, too, as the expectation for the first banquet was always much higher than the ones after and would also prove your abilities as the Duchess. But you worried about the rumors that would emerge if you were too close with Duke Kim. After all, the society you lived in was flawed in this sense of thinking.

“If you’re worried about any rumors emerging, don’t worry. You are not only the princess of this kingdom but a married woman, and I am but your husband’s friend. Any rumors that come will be easily taken out by the combined powers of both your husband’s House and the royal family.’’

He was correct with that. You made a decision right then and gingerly extended a hand out, your lips carefully curving into the poised smile that you had spent days practicing with your tutor.

“Well then, I will look forward to your assistance, Duke Kim.’’

Namjoon’s charming smile sobered into a more reserved and serious expression as he clasped your delicate hand in his own. You could feel the calluses of his hand, which was different from what you had expected a nobleman’s hands to be like. His touch was cold, too, the kind of cold that seemed less human and more marble. You faintly remembered that Yoongi’s hands were like that too, and your cheeks lightly flushed at the rather intimate memory that unfolded at that thought before you could force yourself back to earth.

Namjoon leaned down slightly as he raised your hand up, his lips brushing against your knuckles. Though this was a common gesture exchanged between those of the nobility, you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You wanted to pull your hand away, a strange paranoia in your throat that someone else would witness this and view polite courtesy with slanderous eyes, but you forced yourself to keep your hand steady.

You, still caught up in your own thoughts, did not witness the way Namjoon’s lips twisted into a teasing smirk as his eyes flitted to the window and made eye contact with the beady eyes of the crow perched outside of the window. The bird, having been caught, fluttered its feathers in agitation and let out a strangled caw. Then, it stretched out its inky wings, each hollow bone crackling slightly, and flapped away.

Namjoon straightened his back, gently letting go of your hand. You hurriedly allowed your hand to fall back at your side.

“How amusing…,’’ he murmured faintly, his voice barely above a whisper. You blinked rapidly; you were unable to catch the words he had spoken.

“I apologize, but what did you say? I couldn’t hear what you had said just now,’’ you questioned.

Namjoon was about to open his mouth to brush off his comment when the door of the receiving room slammed open with such force that Namjoon would’ve been surprised if there wasn’t a crack in the frame. You spun around to look at who was there, and your mouth dropped slightly open when you saw the Duke standing there.

“Yoongi, what are you—,’’ you tried to speak, but your words were cut off as the Duke marched up to you and grabbed your elbow, pulling you behind him protectively. You tried to take a look at Duke Kim, but the Duke only moved to shield your view.

“If you have any words to say to my wife, you can also speak them in front of me. If you were to come by, it would’ve been more proper to inform me before your arrival,’’ the Duke’s words were like ice. You could feel yourself shiver. You, who had become accustomed to the softer and more gentle tone the Duke had taken with you, had never heard the Duke speak like that before, with such bite and barely restrained anger.

Perhaps the Duke could sense the way you had tensed. The imposing aura around him softened a bit, but he still remained firmly in between Duke Kim and you.

Namjoon smiled good-naturedly, raising his hands to show that he didn’t mean any harm. He had never seen Yoongi so hostile before, not even when he had been on the front of the battlefield soaked in blood. Even when he had the king of an opposing kingdom on his knees, begging and wailing in front of him, Yoongi hadn’t even flinched before he had executed the miserable coward. But now, Yoongi could barely contain the aggression in his eyes as he stared down his closest friend.

Namjoon couldn’t help the desire to just mess around with his friend. After all, it was rare to see Yoongi out of control; Namjoon’s nature, having lived for quite some time, leaned towards anything he found interesting and easy to control. He had never viewed Yoongi as easy to control, not with the power that seemed to overbearingly seep from every pore of the man, but this situation… Namjoon could barely conceal the sheer expression of glee at the thought of what he was about to do. His eyes, which he usually concealed as a dark brown, flickered with a hint of crimson, a shade that strikingly matched Yoongi’s typical eye color.

He stepped closer to the Duke, settling a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder and leaning close to Yoongi’s ear. His voice was barely above a whisper, but Yoongi’s acute senses easily picked it up. You, however, could only look on in confusion.

“Your wife…I can see why you’re so infatuated with her. I hope I can learn more about her.”

If it weren’t for the years of friendship between the two, Yoongi would have not had any qualms with killing Namjoon on the spot. Yoongi’s pupils dilated, the color of his eyes bleeding brightly, and his hands curled into fists, his blunt nails leaving bloody crescent marks imprinted in his flesh. Namjoon nodded politely to you as he walked past the Duke, his playful eyes meeting your confused eyes. The soft click of the door shutting ascertained his departure.

“My Lord,’’ your voice was soft as you carefully crept towards the Duke. There was no response. You tentatively called out: “Yoongi?’’

Your call of his name seemed to snap him out of his bloodthirst as he quickly turned around and grabbed onto your wrist, pulling you towards him until your body was firmly pressed against his. You gasped as he cradled the back of your head, his hands twisting in your locks of hair, and kissed you. It felt like he was devouring you; in that moment, each breath you had was also his. His lips moved almost brutally against yours, and you felt a whine emerge from your throat as he harshly nipped your soft bottom lip with his teeth. Your lips barely had time to part slightly before his tongue was in your mouth, exploring each crevice. You could only hold onto him, fists curled weakly in his white dress shirt and your mind dizzy from a combined mix of lack of oxygen and heated frenzy.

His hands were about to push down the sleeves of your dress and expose your heated skin to the cold air when a sharp knock on the door interrupted him. He seemed to pay no heed to it, his lips still bruising against yours, but you managed to finally pull a bit away from him. The string of saliva that showed the previous heated connection of your mouths caused you to frantically turn your head away in shame to break it. You sucked in a large swallow of cold air. Your knees were soft, your bones barely unable to hold you up; you were about to tumble down when he caught you and swept you up in his arms. Despite the murderous aura that was pouring out of him, he gently let you down onto the sofa in the room, and you watched with hazy eyes as he stormed out of the room.

That night, as you nuzzled your face into the silk pillows of the bed and slept soundly, the servant who was unfortunate enough to have been sent to interrupt the Duke’s time with his rumored beloved wife would meet his end. After that, no one would ever dare to come near any rooms with closed doors in fear that they would meet their hopeless demise at the end of the Duke’s famous blade.

After weeks of you busily preparing for the celebration alongside numerous lessons, the day of the long-awaited birthday banquet finally arrived. Each important noble was to show up, less they be ridiculed by the rest of their peerage, including those from your previous family. Though you had initially did not want to invite them, your logic won over your heart, and the king and the crown princess were to come to the ball too. Ah, you could feel a headache coming on at the very thought.

Little did you know, you would come to regret this choice later that evening.

But now, in this very moment, you were too busy ensuring that everything was perfect. The hall where the banquet would be held hadn’t been used in what looked to be years, a surprise considering how well-maintained most of the places you frequented in the manor were, and you had the servant staff wipe down every single corner of the hall until it gleamed. Marble and silver, now shining gorgeously in the bright chandelier light, were decorated with luxurious drapes made out of rich crimson cloth and gorgeous arrangements of blooming white and red flowers.

By the time the evening had arrived, the hall was already filled with much of the nobility and a few commoners who were wealthy. The Duke was to escort you in, and you had to admit that he looked even more handsome dressed up. His hair was carefully slicked back, showing off his stern marble-carved features. He extended his hand out for you to take, and you lightly placed your hand into his grasp. He pulled you a bit closer to him, his movement soft so you wouldn’t trip, and you heard his voice, low and a bit rougher than usual, by your ear.

“You look…,’’ he swallowed before he continued speaking,’’ beautiful tonight.’’

You could only look at him, dumbfounded, as heat rushed to your cheeks and a silly euphoria settled buzzingly in your veins. His words were clumsy, a rare occurrence for the man who always remained coolly composed. You smiled widely, and he averted his gaze, though you noticed his ears were tinted a slight red. Then, the doors were opened, and the both of you stepped out into the stairs at the very front of the hall.

“The Duke and Duchess of the House of Min has entered.’’ The steward called out, his voice echoing in the hall.

A hush covered the hall as everyone’s eyes flitted to where you stood by the side of your husband. You heard a soft murmur rise up as their eyes fell on you.

You had paid careful attention to the arrangements of the hall and dressed in a manner that fit it. The seamstress that the Duke had sent you had been the most highly sought in the kingdom, perhaps even of the neighboring kingdom, and her talent resonated in the gown you were adorned in. Billowing layers of deep red, accentuated by bits of sparkling diamonds and pearls and sparkling silver embroidery, swathed your waist, and the sleeves, made out of a transparent material, delicately puffed out around your arms. The placement of the neckline of the dress carefully concealed the mark by your collarbone. With your shoulders set back in a poised posture, you looked much different from the nervous and trembling girl who had gotten married a few months ago. There was no doubt that you were anything but gorgeous, perhaps, though many didn’t dare to say it aloud, even more gorgeous than the crown princess.

The hold of the Duke on you seemed to tighten even more on you as he opened his mouth to greet the guests, his tone frigid compared to the warm smile you carefully had on. His words were short, almost dismissive in a way, and the moment they ended, the music from the orchestra resumed to brighten up the cold atmosphere.

He carefully helped you down the stairs, ensuring that your heels would delicately sink into the plush carpet instead of slip and send you into an embarrassing, sprawling tumble. You couldn’t help the way your lips grew even bigger into a smile at the gentle way he led you; truly, though he didn’t show his love often outside of the animalistic way he held you in the bedroom, he was sweet to you. By the time your feet hit the floor with a soft clack, the two of you were crowded by many nobles.

They all clamored to get the Duke’s attention, trying to take advantage of the first proper event the House of Min was hosting. The Duke coldly looked at them, and many of them darted away, leaving a select amount of nobles in front of the two of you. When one noble was done talking, he would leave, and another would dart to take his place. You were to smile and nod lightly whenever they were to mention you in a compliment in an attempt to warm the Duke up towards their offers.

After a bit of time, your feet began to ache in the heeled shoes that you had forced them in, and the sides of the shoes viciously dug into the tender flesh of your feet. You tried to shift your weight, but the pain refused to settle. You decided that you were going to fetch a servant to bring you a comfier pair of shoes and rest a bit in the ladies’ powder room.

“My husband,’’ you leaned in close to his ear, keeping your voice low. “My feet are aching. I’m going to the powder room to rest for a little while.’’

He nodded, but as you were about to slightly wobble away, he clasped your hand and, in front of the other nobles, pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. You could hear an audible gasp and the rising volume of chatter in the hall as people witnessed the rare sight of affection. The Duke, who many viewed through fearful eyes, was looking at you so gently. Now, it didn’t seem so impossible for the rumor of him being infatuated with you to be true.

“Come back soon, my wife. I will be waiting for you,’’ he spoke into your skin, his lips tickling you a bit. You fondly smiled at him, feeling much like a maiden, as he let go of your hand before leaving to send a servant for better shoes and continuing your way to the powder room.

You settled into the seat in the powder room with a soft exhale, closing your eyes briefly. Finally, you could relieve your poor feet from the aches and pinches of your previous heeled shoes. You heard the door open, and your eyes opened to see who it was.

It was the crown princess.

She was as beautiful as ever, with gleaming strands of hair rolled up in a curling updo and a gown that did little to hide the delicate curves of her body. She wasn’t alone, though; she was accompanied by her usual entourage of three unmarried girls from other high-ranking aristocratic families.

“Must be rather lovely to be able to express such affection with your husband,’’ the crown princess spoke. Unlike the angelic disposition that she exuded when she kept her mouth shut, her tone was venomous, and her words were like hidden blades. You recalled the gossip you had overheard when you had been living in the palace. The crown princess was obsessed with the Duke, your husband, and had wanted to marry him. This was hidden from outside of the palace, but maids liked to talk. She would often go to the manor he had near the palace, but he would refuse on seeing her every time.

In fact, though you did not know this, the King had been planning to marry her to the Duke to strengthen the ties to the House of Min, but the Duke had insisted on marrying you.

You barely could keep back the sigh of exhaustion that threatened to escape your lips. God, having your feet dwell in agony would have been much more preferable than having a conversation with such a… You refrained from continuing your thoughts, not wanting to dirty yourself by using such vulgar language.

“Your Highness, would it not be proper to greet me first before continuing onto a different topic?’’ your lips strained in the forced polite smile you had on.

One girl stepped forward, her face pinched in anger.

“You! How dare you speak to Her Highness like that!’’

“You must be from the Count Park family, correct? To speak so disrespectfully to someone of a higher rank… The etiquette teachers must be rather lenient on their lessons.’’ You could feel the start of a headache throb in your skull. “And, have you forgotten? I am also of the same status as Her Highness as her sister, and I have married into a family that does not take disrespect lightly.’’

The girl flinched before stepping back. She refused to relax the aggressive expression she had on. The crown princess’s demure smile stiffened a bit.

“Yes, my younger sister. We are related,’’ the crown princess stepped closer to you. You kept yourself steady as she halted in front of you and placed a delicate hand on your shoulder. “And as your older sister, I want to provide some helpful advice to you.’’

To the outside, she seemed like she was the perfect caring older sister. But you knew better. This was the same girl who had taken the main part in looking down on you with her mother, the queen, when you were younger at the palace. She hid the darker, more vicious parts of her under a beautiful mask.

“I am grateful for your care of me, sister. Since we are so close, and you didn’t bother using formalities in the first place, you must not mind me talking to you casually then.’’ You watched her with careful eyes, waiting for her to strike.

“Not at all. In fact, I was hoping that we would drop the formalities between the two of us. I am quite worried about the relationship the Duke has with you. You are so innocent, sister, that you are not aware of the way men work. They treat you so well in front of you that you convince yourself that they’re in love with you, but behind you, they commit vulgar acts.’’

“That is a rather unpleasant way to view the world, is it not? Besides, the Duke, my husband, is not the typical man, though you must already be quite aware of that with the way you used to cling onto him, hmm?’’

Her eyes flashed menacingly, and the smile on the crown princess’s face grew, warping an angel’s mask into the face of a demon. The fingers of the hand she had placed on your shoulder tightened its grip, her nails lightly digging into your skin.

“Oh, you are innocent. The Duke is like any other man. Do you ever wonder why the garden in the back of the manor on the territory is so well taken care of? Do you know why he chose to marry you, a forgotten princess with half of the blood from a low wench?’’ Her fingernails were drawing blood, but you couldn’t focus on the pain, not with the way your eyes couldn’t leave from her sadistic face. “You were fortunate enough to look similar to his first lover. No one knows anything about her other than her death, but she’s the reason why anyone who dares to even bruise a flower from the garden is immediately killed. She’s the reason why he even chose to marry you.”

She stood back; you could barely feel the prickling pain of the bloody fingernail marks in your skin. Your throat closed up, and the noble bravery you had feigned earlier seemed to mock you now.

“Father told me that the Duke, after seeing a picture of your face, wanted to marry you. Why? You know the Duke is not foolish enough to believe in love at first sight. The Duke has never cared for anyone in his life, yet he carries a painting of his first lover with him everywhere. Why would he marry you? You must’ve asked yourself this, too. The whole kingdom has! You should be smart enough to figure out the real reason why. You can check for yourself, but you know my words are true.’’

You couldn’t say anything as she whirled around on her heels and stepped out. You hated the pity you could feel from her entourage. Even the girl who had shouted at you earlier had a glimpse of pity in her eyes, mixed in with a mocking glee, as she left. Did they pity you for being attacked by the princess? Or did they pity you because they agreed with her?

You wanted to shrug off the words of the crown princess. She was jealous. Jealous that you, her younger less blessed sister, got the man she wanted. But some part of your gut told you that there was a ring of truth to her words. You remembered the odd looks the staff had given you when you had attempted to go to the garden.

Your own thoughts seemed to choke you. Was she right? Was she wrong? Could you fool yourself into thinking she was wrong? You could feel the agony of your heart well up and splinter into small fragments of glass.

You wanted to run away.

But you couldn’t.

Somehow, you managed to get yourself together. At one point, you realized that you were spending too much time in the powder room. It would be suspicious, wouldn’t it? You couldn’t bring yourself to return back to the Duke’s side. Besides, he was talking to the king now. It’d feel awkward to face the King after having such an unpleasant conversation with his daughter.

You leaned against the wall, watching the orchestra play and people dance on the floor, twirling layers of sparkling colored dresses and sleek muted colors of suits. Your throat felt dry, and a nausea churned in your stomach.

“Duchess Min, it’s an odd sight seeing you so solemn.’’

You looked up, your eyes widening. Namjoon was standing in front of you, dressed up in an elegant suit. He smiled at you, flashing two dimples. His eyes were warm. Your cheeks flushed slightly from embarrassment as you remembered the last time you had seen him. You had been checking the materials delivered for the banquet with Namjoon when you had stumbled over a box. You had braced yourself for the impact of the hard floor, but you ended up falling on top of something much softer than the floor. To your profound shame, you had fallen on Namjoon, who had thrown himself down onto the floor to avoid you from hitting it. You had profusely apologized once you had gotten up, but he had brushed it off. Thus, you had decided to brush off the memory as well but seeing Namjoon again made you feel extremely embarrassed.

“Nam— I mean Duke Kim. I didn’t see you earlier.”

“Well, I don’t really enjoy coming to these events, but you did spend a lot of time working on it, and I wanted to see the results of your efforts. You can rest easy knowing that your first banquet looks a lot better than the tenth banquet for many families.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that grew on your face. The sickening mixture of nausea and numbness seemed to fade away and settle itself back into the marrow of your bones. If you simply erased the incident in which you had embarrassed yourself by falling upon him, the both of you had developed a more than suitable connection over the time you spent working together. Though the two of you were often surrounded by servants and Jungkook, the quick wit of Namjoon shown through each time you spent with each other.

After all, few men could get into the good graces of your husband. You, although a bit more wary after the troubling incidents you had encountered with your old tutor, found yourself falling into the pace of friendship with Namjoon.

“Thank you, but, Duke Kim, you do know that I could not have pulled this off without your help. The Hall only looks this splendid because the quality of your products is of the finest in the kingdom.’’ Many nobility often used compliments for their own advantage, but in this case, your praise was genuine.

“Then, as a way to thank me, may I ask for this dance?’’ Namjoon charmingly smiled. You noticed that the previous music had stopped playing, allowing time for people to switch their partners. Namjoon extended a hand, bowing graciously. You let out a light laugh at the mischievous sheen in his eyes and reached out your own hand, about to clasp his in yours when…

“My wife, I need to speak with you alone.’’

Your hand hovered in the air as you turned your head to look at the voice; your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the Duke in front of you. He looked terrifying, even more so than the time he had burst into the receiving room when you had first met Namjoon as Duke Kim. His eyes gleamed a fierce red, and his expression looked murderous, the aura around him seeming to cool the air. The music barely managed to warm the chills rising upon the skin of everyone in the hall.

You could barely hear the faint noise of strings dragging themselves out into a sweet melody. No one else seemed to either with the way everyone’s eyes fell upon the three of you.

Was he angry because he didn’t want you to ruin the reputation of the House by getting close to another man? Did he view you as, what the commoners would often refer to, as a wench? You felt hurt at the thought.

Before you could choke out a flustered and indignant response and possibly shatter the noble image of a duchess in the process, the Duke had already pulled you to him with a swift movement that left you clumsily crashing into his chest. Then, he all but dragged you out of the Hall.

Namjoon could only watch as the Duke disappeared with you, no look of amusement painted on his elegant features. Before, he might’ve grinned devilishly at the sight, but now, his chest seemed to twist and pull, an irony considering his true status.

Near Namjoon, standing next to the crown princess who kept gently smiling but had a look in her eyes like she wanted to tear off your face with her pretty nails, the King rejoiced in this new outcome. He was well aware of the nobility’s muttering of taking the king off the throne; with the rumor and proof of the fearsome Duke being infatuated with the royal 8th princess, the muttering of rebellion would die down. Though the King trembled like a coward in front of the Duke, what laid inside his heart was one of a selfish bastard.

When the Duke finally left, carrying the frigid tension with him, the whole room seemed to sigh in relief. But for the three who stood above the crowd, two were filled with envy and one was filled with greed.

You didn’t know where Yoongi was leading you. He had grasped your wrist in his own icy cold grip, and although his pace was unrelenting, he made sure that he wasn’t walking too fast in case you would slip. You didn’t know why Yoongi…the Duke had reacted that way.

If it were the you of the past who frequently indulged in sappy romantic novels in which a brooding male lead fell in love with a witty heroine, you would’ve been caught in a delusion that he was jealous. But the you of the present had lessons that left you stiff and every rule of etiquette and propriety drilled into your brain. The you of now was aware that the intimate nights in which you could fool yourself into believing the Duke loved you was nothing more than a fallacy. The you of now was aware of the truth. Though the crown princess wanted to hurt you and she was many despicable things, you, having grown up with her for part of your lonely childhood, knew that she wasn’t a liar. You fought the bitterness that threatened to envelope your heart.

You broke out of your thoughts just as the Duke had opened the door to your shared bedroom. He had suddenly halted, and you nearly clumsily crashed into his broad back.

“What are you doing, my Lord?’’ you managed to say,’’ The banquet in your honor is still ongoing. We can’t leave our guests like—.’’

You stopped speaking, your words caught in your throat, as Yoongi whirled around. You were taken aback by the look in his eyes. He looked almost feral in this moment, his eyes darkened in a tumultuous mix of emotions that only caused shivers to tremble fiercely down your spine.

“I need to…,’’ he closed his eyes, as if he could calm himself down, but when he had opened his eyes, the emotions in his eyes seemed to be even more heightened.

He suddenly pulled down the front of your gown—you had shouted in alarm, an expression of shame painted over your face as beads and pearls popped off the delicate fabric and hit the floor—and pressed a gentle kiss against the mark on your clavicle. His lips, a rosy pink, were a breathtaking contrast against the distinct red of the mark.

“Duke!’’ you had exclaimed, trying to push him away. “Although we may be husband and wife, you can not behave in such an…outlandish way, not when the banquet is still occurring!’’

His lips had curled up in a small smile, an expression so different from his regular brooding, stoic look that it would’ve left his aids in mute shock at the sight. You could feel the movement of his lips against your skin. He didn’t make any further moment, and you had believed him to be more tame. Perhaps he had regained his senses as a refined nobleman.

Or…perhaps not.

“It is typical here to grant a wish for one’s birthday, is it not?’’ he softly spoke, his lips ticklish against your soft flesh,’’ And I wish to have you.’’

He tilted his head back slightly to look up at you with red eyes shadowed by ink-black eyelashes. The expression in his eyes… You couldn’t put your finger on why they looked so loving but so vulnerable. He was different from the first time you had met him. He was even different from the second time you had met him at your wedding. Why did he look at you this way? Why had he chosen you?

You could only continue to desperately ask yourself this in your heart, but you knew the answer. Your old tutor knew the answer. The crown princess knew the answer. Hell, didn’t everyone know the answer? How foolish and lovesick you were, (Y/n)! But you did not mind the temporary illusion of being his only one love if he could hold you like that was true.

A loud yelp left your lips at the sudden pain in your clavicle, tears filling your eyes. He had bitten you! When you had been distracted with your thoughts, he had slyly dug his teeth into your mark.

“Don’t be distracted by anyone else when you’re with me,’’ his voice was raspy at the edges, almost unhinged in a strange way. “Don’t think of anything else but me.’’

The pain faded into a faint tingle, and you laughed breezily as you looped your arms around the back of his neck. You were the only one he was holding. You were the only one he loved right now; that was right.

“I’ll only think of you. I suppose it is tradition to grant one wish, Yoongi.”

Every restraint Yoongi had been holding back seemed to snap then as he devoured you with his lips. You were faintly reminded of the way he had kissed you in the receiving room after Namjoon had left, how he had seemed to want to imprint the mark of his lips onto yours. You were caught up in the vicious heat of his own touch as his tongue probed deeper into your mouth that you didn’t notice his hand slipping up to your evening dress. He practically ripped off your dress, his strength tearing through layers of silk and sending another shower of tiny sparkling beads to the ground, and you could only make a sound of discontent against his lips as the cold air nipped your flushed skin.

You took a step back to take in a breath, but he matched each of your steps, his lips still firmly against yours. The back of your legs knocked against the bed, and you ungracefully fell onto the bed. The breath spun out of your lungs, and you were vaguely reminded of the time the Duke had taken your purity on the same very bed. You inelegantly climbed back further onto the bed, your palms sinking into the bedding. Yoongi pulled away, and barely a moment later, you felt his hands tie a strip of silk fabric around your eyes.

“Yoongi, what are you—?’’ you sputtered slightly as your sight was suddenly taken away. Your voice was cut off in a haggard breath as you felt his hand slip down your delicate flesh to where your most vulnerable place was. You felt the tips of his fingers against your already soaked folds, and you heard a soft groan from Yoongi.

“You make me want to sin,’’ Yoongi’s voice sounded farther away as he moved down. You fumbled around a bit, trying to figure out where Yoongi had gone, before you realized that he had settled down further down your legs. Your mouth opened to speak, but a moan stretched out of your throat out as his lips closed around your throbbing clit and lightly sucked on it.

“You taste so fucking good.’’ You heard him say, and your cheeks flushed from embarrassment, before your mind went blank from pleasure. He licked your clit in short flicks that left your toes curled before flattening his tongue against your pussy, pressing your soft thighs deeper into the bed as his tongue probed even deeper into your sensitive walls. You could only rasp out whiny sighs, calls of his name that garbled into incoherent squeals, as every nerve in your body trembled. Your senses seemed to be even more heightened by your lack of sight, and you could feel every slight movement of his tongue deep within you.

Your legs unconsciously curled tighter around his head, and before you could collect your thoughts, you were pressing his face even deeper into you. You could hear the soft schlick sounds and the slurping of your essence faintly underneath your wanton cries. You didn’t care about your propriety, not with how good you felt. Your hips raised slightly as you felt yourself tip further near your release, and then you were spiraling and crashing into your climax, your mouth straining open in a loud pitched keen.

When you finally settled down, you felt the lips of the Duke meet yours for a heated kiss. You could taste the mix of your own juices and his saliva, and you sighed lightly into his mouth.

Your breathing was uneven by the time he broke away to let you breathe, and your mind buzzed from the aftermath of your orgasm. You should’ve built up stamina from the many nights you had already spent with the Duke, but the blindfold seemed to rob you of it, leaving you practically limp already.

“Onto your hands and knees,’’ you heard the Duke say. You whined in protest, but your body automatically began to rise up and blindly fall onto your hands and knees despite your mind not wanting to. You felt something hot press against the slicked folds of your pussy, and you barely could open your mouth to protest. You just came; you were too sensitive. These words were lost, replaced with a soft sigh of pleasure, as you felt the stretch of your walls around Yoongi’s cock. The press of Yoongi into you caused your cum and juices to leak out of your sensitive pussy and run down your inner thighs.

“You’re so fucking tight, squeezing around me like this,’’ Yoongi rasped into your ear,’’ You just came, and you’re still ready for more? You’re a whore underneath that perfection.’’

You barely were allowed to adjust to the intrusion before he pulled out and slammed back in so hard that your arms that were holding you up wobbled. Another rough piston of his hips against your ass sent your sprawling onto the bed, your mouth opening in lewd cries and practically drooling. You couldn’t make one single thought beyond the spine-tingling pleasure you received from having him so deep within you and the graze of his calloused palms against your soft breasts. The mix of the gentle feeling of his fingertips twisting your hard nipples and the rough feeling of being fucked so hard made your mind spin.

Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. Those are the only words you could say, and it’s his name you cried out the loudest when his next thrust caused his cock to bump against your womb. You came a little at the feeling, toes curling in tightly and your hands practically scratching at the sheets. And then you’re climbing again, about to crumble into another orgasm that’d steal the breath out of your lungs and make you forget about the ache of your body and heart. Before you could, Yoongi pulled out, his breath ragged, and you didn’t know what he was going to do, yearning helplessly for him to just thrust in and spill his seed into your trembling womb.

You let out a sharp cry of surprise when he tenderly pushed you onto your back and suddenly picked you up, and you grabbed onto his shoulders, feeling his muscles tighten and flex underneath his soft skin. You didn’t know where he was taking you until you felt something cold against your back. Glass? There was no glass on the walls in the bedroom except for the…window.

“Yoongi, if there are any guests out there who see us—,’’ your next words were cut off by him driving his cock back deep into you, crushing your breath and your next words. He set an unforgiving pace, his hips crashing against yours, and you whimpered and moaned so loud that you could barely hear the raspy groans being dragged out of Yoongi’s throat. You were reaching your high again, and you forgot the fear of being seen by any banquet guests.

You could tell Yoongi was reaching his high too, with the way he throbbed and stretched and hit you just right. You felt his hot breath spill against your sensitive skin.

“I’m going to cum in you, my wife. You’re going to have our child.’’ The Duke’s grip tightened around your hips, and you knew his touch was going to leave marks on your skin.

You let out a choked sob in response, urging him to pound you even further.

“Please, please, Yoongi, please,’’ you sputtered, your mouth dry as you beg for his touch. You were so close, just nearly there.

You wanted to cum so badly, wanted to feel Yoongi even deeper in you, and you wrapped your arms around Yoongi’s neck, letting out an alarmed squeal, as your back slipped slightly on the glass and sent you further down Yoongi’s cock, impaling you. That movement seemed to be both the undoing of you and Yoongi.

Your legs locked around his waist, and you could feel tears leak out of your eyes and roll down your cheeks as you cum hard. Your head slammed into the glass, and your tongue lolled out of your mouth as your walls squeezed and fluttered around his cock. Yoongi groaned, his cock throbbing in you, and you felt his teeth tear into the skin of your neck as he reached his own orgasm. You let out a sound that was a mix of a moan and a sob as you felt him cum deep into your womb.

In that moment, you hoped new life would come forth. With a child, perhaps you wouldn’t feel so empty from thinking about Yoongi’s infatuation with his first love.

He rocked lightly, still buried deep within you, as if he heard your thoughts and wanted to seal his sperm deep within your fertile womb. You were too tired to do anything else as he slipped the blindfold off around your head and sent for servants to get the both of you cleaned. You, right then, were content with pretending that you were the only Yoongi loves.

And with the faint sound of music pulled out of strings humming through the manor and the warmth of a hot towel carefully cleaning you, you fell into an unsettled sleep.

Snow finally made way for the brightness of spring. The pure white of the landscape melted away into cold puddles of water and made way for grass, the vibrant color of emerald, to take a breath and peek into the sun. Specks of color bloomed in the form of tiny flowers, and you, who seemed to grow colder despite the warming of the seasons, were reminded of the garden in the back of the manor.

You were wilting; you could feel it. With nights plagued with dreams that let you bitterly numb in the morning and a head that seemed to throb at the slightest change of weather, it was unfortunate but not unexpected that the beginning of spring came with the beginning of your cold.

It was nothing major, but it left you stuck in bed, bleary eyes clinging to the drops of condensation rolling down the large glass windows of the bedroom. There was little for you to do, most of your work having been taken over by some of the Duke’s aids, and so you were stuck pondering over who you meant to the Duke. Due to your illness, you were kept in a separate room from the bedroom you shared with the Duke, and thus the seeds of the negative feelings you had been hiding in your heart began to sprout.

Many would’ve viewed this rest as a blessing but having time to get lost in your own thoughts to you was a curse.

You felt pathetic. The you who had freely run through the streets, the you who had wistfully sighed over romance novels, the you who had been so naïve would never have been this pathetic. Namjoon had visited you one day when you had started to finally recover from your ailment. You had remembered the shock that you had felt when you had opened the door to the balcony, wanting fresh air without a servant around, and taken a step out only to see Namjoon standing on the balcony.

“Namjoon, how did you get in here?’’ you asked. He smiled mysteriously at you but did not reply to your question, his eyes softening at the sight of you. You recalled the way you looked, so weak; your hair had been in a mess from having laid in bed all day, your cheeks had gotten sickly thin from your cold, and you were scandalously clad in your nightgown. You tightened the shawl you had thrown around your shoulders further around you.

“You don’t seem that well. I heard you were recovering, but I wanted to check in on you with my own two eyes.”

You sighed, trying to look disappointed in him, but the perk of your lip was not something that could be easily hidden from his sharp eyes.

“Well, aren’t you a good friend? But this isn’t proper.’’ You hushed your voice, taking a step back just in case any servants passing below happened to glance up at your balcony. “Does my Lord know you are here?”

“If Yoongi knew I was here, do you think he would’ve allowed me to get so close to you?’’ Namjoon’s smile turned a little bitter, though you did not know why. You nodded mutely, unconsciously pulling the shawl even tighter around you.

“This meeting isn’t proper either. My Lord must be afraid that I will make a fool out of the House of Min if I am not proper,’’ you spoke, your words hollow in your throat. You didn’t know why, but tears began to build up in your eyes and one drop slipped out, rolling down your cheek.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed slightly in concern, and he took a step closer to you. You took a step back, wiping your eyes frantically with your hands as you fought to keep the tremble out of your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,’’ you inhaled, closing your eyes and using your hands to cover your face as you fought to rein yourself in,’’ My deepest apologies. I can’t…I can’t believe I lost myself like that for a second, in front of my Lord’s closest friend either. Please pretend that you never saw anything.’’

Namjoon’s expression softened; he remembered how strong and carefree you had looked when he had first met you, and now you looked so weakened, both from the cold and the tears you tried to hold back. You were like gold when he had first met you, shining brilliantly, but now you were as fragile as glass. His heart, though he had rarely felt the use of it, began to ache slightly. He reached out, about to touch your head, but he couldn’t. He dropped his hand back towards his side.

“I…,’’ the words Namjoon had never said in his lifetime rose in his throat. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from speaking such human words; Namjoon was not human. He was not kind. But for you, he could be. “What can I do to help you?’’

Your shoulders froze, your palms wet from the droplets of tears. You were desperate now; no sense of propriety made its way to your mind as you reached out and grasped Namjoon’s hand with your own trembling hands. He stiffened at your touch, at how delicate it was.

“Please…,’’ your voice was shakily soft, hoarse from your lack of use and your tears, your head lowered in shame. You were bowing now in front of him, hopelessly unable to meet his gaze. You were so pathetic, (Y/n); you didn’t deserve the title of princess. You didn’t deserve the title of Duchess. Bu your mouth continued to move, rushing words out. “Yoongi…the Duke…This is too much to ask you; I know this is too much to ask of you, Namjoon. I’ll owe you forever. Please, find out who the Duke’s first love, and…’’

You looked up at him, eyes rimmed in red and glossy with tears as you pushed out your last words. “Does he even hold me in his heart?’’

Namjoon’s eyes looked so conflicted then, his smile looking a bit colder on his lips. Even then, you clung onto his hand, shaking and pleading silently. Finally, he grasped your hands with his other hand and gently pushed your touch off of his.

“I will.” The smile he put on next was warm, but it seemed forced, too wide and too happy for what you were asking. “I suppose next time you will owe me a favor, Duchess.’’

You lowered your head back down in shame, and when you finally managed to raise it back up again, Namjoon had been long gone.

You were stuck on the balcony, the spring air, which should’ve been warm, cooling down. The sky faded from a pale blue to a dark gray, clouds rolling in to signify the season’s famous sign of pouring rain, but you could only stand there, frozen, as the wind lifted locks of your hair. When you felt the first droplet of rain against your cheek, rolling down reminiscent of your own tears, you finally broke out of your trance. Pinching the fabric of the shawl to keep it from falling down, you, on shaky limbs, turned around, sliding open the glass door and heading in.

That moment would later turn out to be one of the very few last moments you would ever see Namjoon, your friend, ever again.

And you would later regret ever asking him for the favor.

A/N: As always, if you want to be added to the taglist for part 3, reply with a 👑. I make a new taglist for each part based on the emoji replies, so thank you for understanding and cooperating. If you enjoyed the story, leave a comment or a detailed review below!

Also, please send any memes/moodboards based on Lineage in! The more there are, the faster I work haha :)

3K notes · View notes

twisted-crumpets · 3 years

Note

The soft Vil and kissing headcanons I'm- 😭😭😭😭😭 Could I have headcanons for NRC having a ball and MC just walks up to Riddle, Azul, Vil, Idia and Malleus (seperately ofc) being like "I've decided that you're gonna be my date for the ball 😊". I know I picked like, the 5 worst characters for this, imagine the audacity and guts you gotta have to pull that on Vil and Malleus 😂

Pff MC strolling up with guts of steel

I- Imagine like slamming down a corsage or smth and being like “you, me dance a lil, get to know each other, maybe smooch idk” to Vil 😂😂

Also, thank you very much for liking my Vil headcanons, it made me smile.

━━ Riddle Rosehearts ━━

To say that Riddle wasn’t stressed out of his mind would be a complete and utter lie.

After spending a good chunk of his time dedicated to scolding Ace and chasing Floyd the poor crimson leader was staring at his watch, panicking as the seconds tick by.

Hearing soft footsteps, he whipped his head ready to berate whoever was dawdling in the dorms and not laying out the table for the upcoming unbirthday party, but froze upon the sight of his darling.

“Oh! Love, I’m sorry you have caught me at a bit of a bad time. What is the reason for your visit?”

He was not at all prepared for his darling to demand his presence at the school ball and couldn’t help but splutter as his face slowly began to turn into a shade that could rival his hair.

“I- you... do you have any sense of decorum or poise?”

Ignoring the blush smeared across his cheeks, Riddle began to criticise the “invitation” and how it did not comply with the rules of the queen of hearts.

However, he soon quietened down when his love teasingly asked if that meant he was rejecting them, reducing the strict dorm leader into a flustered mess.

“That most certainly was not a no!... I just, I believed that we were automatically going to arrive together... I didn’t expect to be asked so abruptly.... I... let me try this again.”

Clearing his throat, Riddle knelt onto the ground, surprising the dorm members who were slowly filing into the room, sweetly holding onto his dearest’s hand.

“Darling, it would be the upmost honour of the highest degree to accompany you to the ball.”

Laying a kiss onto the back of their hand, he couldn’t hide the smirk beginning to grow onto his face as he amusedly watched their face grow as brightly as his own.

━━ Azul Ashengrotto ━━

Due to the rise in contracts during the exam season, Azul’s paperwork began to increase as well and the poor octopus could already feel every part of his back creak in protest everytime he leant down.

Opening the heavy door to his study, his darling was not surprised that he barely even looked their way before pressing his nose against his documents, scanning their contents tiredly.

Attempting to gain his focus, his darling decided to demand that he join them at the ball.

His response was lacklustre at best, not even taking his eyes off his his work to reply.

“Hm? Ah yes, of course my treasure.”

Suddenly, his quill paused in its journey across his contracts and he froze, dropping it against the pristine desk.

At first, his response was “hmmm? Ah yes of course, my treasure.”

That was until, the demand finally processed in his mind, then he just stood wide eyed and froze, dropping his quill.

He gasped at his darling, his azure eyes getting increasingly smaller in shock.

After a few minutes, his darling was finally able to call his name through their giggles, and he snapped back to life.

“Oh my angelfish~ what a tempting command. But, I can only make wishes come true if they are a request.”

Smiling coyly, he observed his darling floundering for the proper words to ask him.

Crooking a gloved finger, he beckoned them closer, mischief practically glowing in his eyes, and gently pulled them into a slow kiss.

“That is a deal I could simply not turn down. Alright, I will gladly join you, my pearl.”

━━ Vil Shoenheit ━━

As a deep lover of all things intricate and organised, this was nothing short of messy.

Fabrics ranging in colour, texture and pattern covered every inch of his room, and Vil was extremely critical of which would be worthy to be used to decorate the dorm room.

He revelled the peaceful silence that lingered in the room, which demanded complete and utter focus, until his darling came barrelling into the room.

“Ah! Fairest no! You could’ve sullied the fabrics... whatever possessed you to come stumbling in like an elephant better be of high importance.”

Returning to his work, he did not expect shaky warm hands to cup his face, and he slowly moved his gaze to their face, observing the rosey flush due to their exercise prior.

In a shocked trance, Vil watched as his darling bolted from the room, after loudly proclaiming that he was coming with her to the ball.

Snapping his manicured fingers, his poor love was dragged like a sack of potatoes over the shoulder of his loyal huntsman, who overheard the events that unfolded with a wide grin.

“My dear, whilst your confession was executed rather... uniquely, I believe I must be the one to give an answer on whether or not I shall attend with you.”

With a cat-like smile, he basked in the nervous gaze of his darling which bounced around the room, whilst he pretended to find his nails exceedingly interesting, before finally accepting with sophisticated air.

Striding up to his darling briskly to tenderly cradle their face, peppering sweet kisses and giggling at the look of bewilderment and shock that graced their face.

━━ Idia Shroud ━━

Finding Idia furiously slamming his fingers into his keyboard, fully enamoured with the happenings on his computer, was not new.

Observing his hunched and focused figure, his darling decided that it was due time for him to take a break and attempted to tear his eyes away from the harsh glare of the screen.

“Oh pixel, I promise I will stop right after this round don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t even press a single key when he heard his lover announce that he would be attended the ball alongside them.

Turning a blind eye to the blatant ‘game over’ on his monitor, Idia’s hair began to burn a vibrant assortment of deep reds and he muttered incomprehensible half sentences, his current state akin to a phone after being dropped into a pool.

“You... me... public... together... d..dancing..”

Like a mouse, he burrowed his way inside the cozy depths of his hoodie, squeaking out his agreement, before flinging his arms around their middle and smooshing his face into their stomach in an attempt to distract them from his vermillion hair and face.

“.. I would love that very much thank you.”

━━ Malleus Draconia ━━

For Malleus, midnight strolls are the highlight of his day.

From exploring the picturesque ruins of castles he might’ve known once upon a time, to marvelling at the loyal gargoyles that remain standing guard at the entrance, that frequently remind him of the two guards of his back at his dorm.

Although, he couldn’t deny that, the main reason for his enjoyment in his nightly activities was when doing so with his truest love.

On this day, instead of the usual lighthearted air between them, a nervous yet determined one replaced it, filling the horned boy with curiousity, which grew as he gazed deeply into the eyes of his love, who appeared to be summoning every ounce of courage to look back into his.

“Truest, what is ailing you?”

Nothing could quite prepare him for the explosive torrent of words that spilled from their lips that took his brain a whole series of seconds to decipher.

When it finally clicked that he had received that invitation, no one could’ve possibly smiled brighter or laughed merrier than he, as he whisked his beloved into his arms, pressing his lips against theirs passionately.

Pulling away, his chest rumbling with laughter, he cheekily beamed at the dumbfounded expression that graced his love’s features.

“My my, inviting me so suddenly, and with such a demanding tone too. Why this is an interesting declaration, and I would be a fool to not accept. Very well my truest, I accept. You best do well to not be late, I am looking forward to this.”

I’m so sorry this took so long, school said no❤️

I hope you enjoyed your meal!

#brain frying #twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #vil shoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #g/n reader

407 notes · View notes

vibraniumwing · 3 years

Text

my heart belongs to you.

a neville longbottom x reader wherein despite of everyone wanting the reader, the reader’s heart only belongs to a certain gryffindor.

WARNING: long fic (really), slow burn, mentions of blood (nothing too bad) but aside from that, nothing else.

A/N: okay so this is an anon request and i honestly just got carried away in writing this. this is so adorable and akdfnksjf okay nonnie i hope you like this. also, this is the first long fic i’ll be posting so aaaa yay for me i guess ?? anyways here, let me shower you with neville fluff. also do you like the banner ?? its kinda bad i know, but i made it uwu

word count: 5.6k

---

The Sorting Ceremony is always exciting for any person who shall start their journey in any Magical school, but if you were a 15 year old in the middle of small 11 year olds, it was hard to say that you could feel the excitement due to the shyness that took over you; sticking out like a sore thumb wasn’t exactly all that pleasing.

As you reached the front of the Great Hall alongside the tiny children, almost all the boys had their eyes on you, instantly swooning at how elegant you carried yourself; causing half the girls inside the room to roll their eyes at how many men were already having heart-eyes at you.

You didn’t have a clue what the other students were thinking but it made you shift uncomfortably, feeling everyone’s eyes at you and how the whispers seemingly all arrow down at you.

“I wonder who’s that,” Ron whispered to Harry, motioning to the front, his eyes trained on you, “Seems like she’s in our year.” the ginger continued, lifting his head to get a better view of you.

“(Y/N) (L/N)!” You were called by Mcgonagall, motioning you to sit as the Sorting Hat was placed on your head, the pounding that your heart had is ringing through your ears; the anxiousness settling in as the hat made its judgement, “GRYFFINDOR!” it exclaimed, causing the long table of students who had red adoring their robes to cheer quite loudly.

Slowly getting up, you made your way to the long table where a few cheers and greetings came across your way from the students. Your eyes were frantic in searching for an empty spot at the table, spotting one to next to a boy with round glasses.

You walked over to the available seat, hesitantly motioning if the spot was taken by anyone, to which the brunette replied with, “I-It’s not taken.” as he barely spared you a glance. Quietly thanking him, you sat down; it was an awkward encounter, no doubt, but you couldn’t blame him You were as timid as he is when it comes to meeting new people.

“Seriously Harry- Alright let me switch places with you.” The girl next to him said, motioning the two of them to swap places which the other happily complied with. She then turned to face you with a warm smile, “I’m Hermione Granger” She introduced herself, offering her hand which you gratefully accepted and shook.

“I know you’ve heard already but I’m (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). I studied in Ilvermorny for the first four years before moving back here because of my dad’s work,” You properly introduce yourself, now settling down on the bench as the food popped up from the table, making you jump lightly. “Pleasure to meet you, Hermione.”

She smiled once more, “The pleasure’s mine.” her words calming the nerves that had been bugging you since the start of the night. As the two of you turned to silence, you took this moment to finally munch on some snacks.

The two males next to her nudged her from behind, making the girl look at them with a serious face, discussing something in a hushed tone before turning back to you, “So (Y/N), these two are my friends” Her words making you look at her with a small smile.

“I’m Ron Weasley.” The ginger introduced, giving you a single nod which you returned.

The one with round glasses then spoke up, “I’m Harry, Harry Potter” as he mirrored the smile you had.

You looked at the both of him with a happy expression, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

The night then rolled on normally—with the exception of Umbridge’s interruption of Dumbledore’s speech— and you soon found yourself walking up the moving staircase with the trio. Usually, it was hard for you to converse with anyone at first meet but something about these three just made you blend in so well.

That’s when you knew you would fit right in.

---

The next day soon came and you were skipping your way down to the Common Room to go head for breakfast when a tiny firework that burst in front of your face made you stop in your tracks. The quiet little pop it made resonated throughout the room of what seems to be rather sleepy first years who were also waiting on their friends.

“Oh sorry about that!” A rather tall ginger approached you, giving you a sheepish grin as he rubbed the nape of his neck. Your eyes observed how he shared the freckle-littered skin Ron has and how he sported the same fiery orange your friend has. ‘Must be his brother’ You thought, shrugging lightly as you sat down by the table. “No harm done, Weasley.”

The surprised look on his face was dead give away that your guess was correct, “How’d you know I was a Weasley?” he questioned, grabbing the seat next to you as he squinted his eyes, “Are you a Legilimens?”

His question made you laugh, shaking your head the thought he had, “Sadly, I’m not. The freckles and the hair were pretty solid evidence that you are— not to mention, the reaction you had when I called you by your last name.” You explained, the shit-eating grin never leaving your lips as his face contorted into one of amazement.

He was about to open his mouth when someone who looked exactly like him popped up from behind him, “Freddie, getting along already with the new girl?” making ‘Freddie’ look at him with a smirk similar to yours, nodding. “Well I was about to, George.”

“You two are twins?” You suddenly asked, making the two of them stop in their conversation to look at you; the realization of how stupid your question was made you visibly cringe, your nose scrunching up as you shook your head, “Okay wait, let me rephrase that queston— who’s who?”

The two chuckled lightly, the one standing leaning against the backrest of the chair as the other one leaned forward on the table. “Try to guess who is who” they both replied at the same time, confused even more.

“Oh stop it you two” Another ginger spoke up, making you look at her in surprise. You took note of how she had the same features the twins and Ron had, thinking that maybe she was their sibling as well. She was with Hermione who was looking at you rather curiously.

“Sister dearest, we were only asking if she could tell who is who” the one standing answered, giving you a knowing look to which you rolled your eyes playfully at the way he was so laid-back with his actions.

“Just so you know, I don’t even know your proper names. I only heard you say Georgie and Freddie.” You retorted, standing up and walking over to the two girls who were already giving them smirks.

The girl from earlier spoke up as you joined them, “I’m Ginny, by the way. Theirs and Ron’s youngest sister.” She introduced herself, giving you a warm smile to which you mirrored, offering your hand, “I’m (Y/N)”

“The one standing is George and that one on the chair is Fred.” Ginny explained, pointing at the twins who were playfully scowling at the girl for giving away their identity so easily.

You turned back to look at them, “Pleasure to meet the both of you” You say, bowing playfully before looking back at Ginny and Hermione who were quietly snickering, “Right, shall we go get breakfast now?”

---

The rest of the day flew by rather quickly, you’ve enjoyed all your classes except your Defense Against the Dark Arts (for obvious reasons) but that didn’t really affect your day.

You were now lounging around the Common Room with Ginny, watching how Fred and George were selling their products to first years, laughing at the effects of the treats they were giving them. “Your brothers are natural businessmen, Ginny.” you commented, sitting back down on the seat comfortably.

Ginny shrugged lightly as a proud expression painted over her face, “They’ve got a knack for trouble that’s for sure, but their inventions are no doubt the best.” She said, getting comfortable on the floor as she leaned back into the seat that you were in.

Your eyes roamed the room and you saw a brunette quietly tending to his Mimbulus Mimbletonia alone, you didn’t know what it was but he immediately piqued your interest as you remembered him to be the one to speak up after Harry and Seamus’ feud the night before, making you tap Ginny’s shoulder, “Who’s that?” as you motioned to the male.

Ginny looked over to where you pointed at, “Oh that’s Neville Longbottom” she replied, looking at you curiously, “What’s up with him?”

You shook your head, eyes never leaving his peaceful expression while caring for his plant, “He does quite well in taking care of his plant. It just intrigued me, that’s all.” you lied, shrugging as you tore your gaze from him to look back at Ginny.

She nodded, “I’m guessing you have a thing for plants as well. You’d get along with him, he’s invested in Herbology.” Ginny shared, munching on the muffin she had sneaked out from the kitchens and looked back at you. “He’s very shy at first but he’s no harm.”

You hummed softly, pretending to look back on the book that was resting on your lap as your eyes glanced at him from time to time, biting down on your lip in an attempt to stop the smile that the butterflies in your stomach are starting to give you.

“Oh just go over there and stop being a wuss and go talk to him, I’m sure he’ll like you.” Ginny nudged, head secretly pointing at the male with a devilish smile on her lips.

Knowing that devious smile of hers meant trouble, you gave in and stood up, glancing down at her with a ‘if this fails i will jinx you’ look before making your way towards the quiet Gryffindor. You were always nervous when approaching people for the first time, but nothing could compare to how you were feeling right now.

“That’s a Mimbulus Mimbletonia, right? Those are very rare.” You spoke up as you reached the table, giving Neville a small smile as he looked at you with a surprised expression. “My mom only saw that once back at my aunt’s place in America, the nasty little thing spurted out this sap that smelled so rancid.” You shared, laughing softly at the memory.

“I’m (Y/N), by the way” You introduced yourself, giving him a warm smile as you grabbed the vacant chair and sat across him, playfully peering through the magical plant.

“I’m Neville, Neville Longbottom” he introduced himself, carefully moving the plant to the side to get a better view of you. His cheeks were flared at the realization that the girl everyone was talking about was talking to him, let alone be the first to approach. “Y-You seem like you know a lot about magical plants.” He continued, placing the tweezers he was using on the table, putting his attention on you.

“My mom’s a Herbologist so I’ve started young, honestly” You told him, looking at the plant before looking back at him with a grin, “Where on earth did you get this plant in the first place?”

His eyes glanced at the plant before looking back at you with a proud expression, “This was a gift to me” making your lips form a small ‘o’ in amazement.

“Actually, did you know that…”

The conversation that soon followed was so natural and fun that you didn’t even notice the Common Room slowly being emptied out, until Neville brought it up. “Oh, we’re the only ones left” he said, making you look around to see that indeed, the two of you were left.

“Oh we should head back to our dorms then” You told him, standing up from your seat and gave him a smile, walking towards the stairs and turning around to look at him, “See you tomorrow, Nev”

This made the male turn around and sported a toothy grin, “See you, (Y/N).”

---

“Okay fifth-years, today we are learning about the Chinese Chomping Cabbage and how to re-pot them.” Professor Sprout’s voice echoed through the Greenhouse, making all of you look at the teacher, peering over to see the plant chomping on a carrot. You’ve encountered this plant numerous times due to your mother’s side-job of growing these to brew Skele-Gros.

You leaned to your side to whisper to Neville about your experience with the said magical plant, but when you turned around, Neville was pushed to the far back and was placed with an unfamiliar face, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Uh, not to be rude or anything but who are you exactly?” you questioned the boy, upset that your friend had been kicked to the back of him and his side goons.

A confident smirk washed over his lips and stood proudly, “I’m Callum Williams, a Ravenclaw.” the young boy introduced, making you smile at him with disinterest, turning back to listen to Professor Sprout who was already showing everyone how to carefully re-pot the biting creature without getting hurt or breaking anything.

“Alright now, carefully-” Her voice was drowned out with the same boy whispering in your ear, “These are Chinese Chomping Cabbages. Saw a few of them myself back in the summer.” Callum shared, making you look back at him with an irritated expression, nodding and turning back to listen to the teacher in front.

“Now, do it yourselves” Was Professor Sprout's last instruction, giving everyone the leeway to do their own thing in replacing the biting vegetable. Your eyes looked back at Neville who was already readying the next pot for the plant, looking up to meet your gaze and shoot you a grin, making you shoot him an apologetic one in return.

You heard the male next to you clear his throat, making you sigh and look back at him, “As I was saying, these plants couldn’t do no harm to me at all. Look.” Callum boasted, playfully waving the wand at the calm cabbage making you widen your eyes, knowing better than to do something as foolish as that.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you-” but your words were too late for the poor boy as the plant reached over and chomped on the wand, effectively bending it in half, making you cringe and snicker at his own ignorance of the subject.

“Mr. Williams! Haven’t you been listening to what I instructed? 5 points from Ravenclaw” Professor Sprout said, making everyone from his house groan and the male blush a deep hue in shame for his actions, making you look at him with a teasing grin, patting his shoulder.

“Maybe try not to be a show-off next time and listen to the professor’s instruction.” you said, your tone a very teasing one as your irritation from earlier was slowly fading away, seeing Neville laughing quietly to himself.

The sight gave you the same butterflies you felt the first time you saw him, making you smile as you tended to the plant in front of you.

---

After William’s attempt in flirting with you, a lot of other boys tried to sway your emotions with gifts and Herbology facts after knowing your love for the subject, but all of them deemed ineffective as your eyes were only trained to one person, who was actually sitting in front of you.

“Hey (Y/N), are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” McLaggen suddenly approached, plopping down on the seat next to you, his awful cologne hitting your senses way too soon making you shift away from him.

“Uh yes, I am actually.” You answered, trying to be polite as you went back to your dinner, praying to Godric that he leaves you alone. His mere presence annoys the living light out of you and you aren't sure how long you can keep up this kindness for him. “I’m actually going with someone, if you were going to ask that.”

This came as a surprise for the male, making him look at you in disbelief, “and who might that be?”

“Neville. I’m very much excited for tomorrow, actually.” You were quick to answer, making the boy in front of you choke on his dinner, caught off guard at the mention of his name, but was quick to catch on, coughing as he sipped on his pumpkin juice.

“I can’t believe this,” Cormac said, shaking his head as he stood up, retreating back to his original spot, making you sigh in relaxation, actually happy that he was gone.

“I’m so sorry about dragging into this mess, Nev.” you apologized, giving him a sad smile, feeling bad about using him to get away from a male yet again.

He shook his head, brows furrowing lightly as he leaned into the table, a small smile on his lips, “I was actually planning on asking you after dinner.” Neville said, making you blush in surprise, the butterflies in your stomach.

“See you tomorrow then.”

---

“A little bird told me you scored a date with your lil ol’ crush” Ginny’s voice bounced through your dorms, making you bump your head against the cover of your trunk. You looked back at her with a slight glare as you rubbed the spot you’ve hit.

You then looked at Hermione who was pretending to read a book, failing to hide the smile that was on her lips, “It’s not a date!” You told Ginny, resuming to find a sweater you were going to wear for tomorrow’s event with Neville.

“Oh sure it’s not and I’m not a Weasley” Ginny answered back, sitting down beside you with the same shit-eating grin plastered on her lips, “If it’s not a date, why are you desperately looking for something to wear tomorrow, hmm?”

This made you drop whatever you were doing and looked at the ginger, realizing that you were, in fact, a worried mess for tomorrow. You never cared for what you wore during your weekends at Hogsmeade, usually throwing on whatever was for the weather and headed down with Ginny and her friends, but there was something different with Neville.

“Okay maybe I am worried for tomorrow, what if I look ugly and he takes it back and goes with his friends instead?” You sighed, shoulders slumping at the thought.

This was where Hermione chimed in, looking at the mess of clothes before sitting on your bed, “That’s where you’re wrong, (Y/N). Have you seen how Neville looks at you? He’s clearly mad for you.” She exclaimed, quite surprised that you’ve said that about yourself.

“Clearly, you haven’t seen the amount of boys who try to hit on you because you’re all googly eyes for him.” Ginny continued, also looking into the trunk when she saw the perfect gray knitted sweater for you to wear. “Now how about this?”

You turned to look and saw the sweater, making you nod in agreement, “Alright. I’ll wear this one then.” taking clothing from her and folding it by your lap, looking at the both of them with a smile, “I don’t know how I’d survive without the two of you.”

“We know.”

---

You looked at yourself once more in the mirror, straightening out the jacket you wore over your knitted sweater and headed on down to the Common Room to see Neville waiting for you by the end of the stairs.

“Good morning, (Y/N)” he greeted, giving you a smile as you stood beside him, securing his scarf before motioning you to walk with him, “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Nev.”

---

“Where on earth are you taking me, Mr. Longbottom?” You asked him, following his brisk movement along the village, your teeth chattering from the cold wind gushing through your face.

He stopped in his tracks, facing you with a small smile, “You’ll see soon enou- wait are you cold? Why didn’t you tell me?” Neville said, quickly taking off his scarf to wrap it around your neck, securing it with a loose knot.

“B-but what about you?” You asked him, eyes wide at his gesture.

He shook his head and replied, “I’m not that cold anyways. Keep that as long as you need it.”

And with that, the two of you kept walking until you reached a somewhat run-down inn, your eyes reading ‘Hog’s Head Inn’ sign before noticing Dean who was waiting by the door, “Took the two of you long enough! Let’s go in, it’s freezing in here.” He shouted, opening the door to the pub before turning back to the both of you, “By the way, nice matching sweaters,” He teased, making the two of you look down to see that indeed, you were wearing the same clothing.

“L-let’s go in, shall we?” You asked, motioning to the door. Neville shyly nodded, walking towards the door and opening it for you, “After you, (Y/N)”

You smiled, walking inside the shabby looking place with him behind you.

---

The next sort of events happened in such a whirlwind, finding your eyes wide in surprise at what Harry had gone through within his stay at Hogwarts. You believed that You-Know-Who was back because of your Aunt’s warnings to stay in America rather than to go back to London; but you didn’t know that it was Harry who had faced him the flesh.

You had this big resentment towards Umbridge as well so you were completely on-board with joining this secret organization your friends have made. “D-did he really kill a Basilisk?” you whispered to Neville, eyes still on Harry as he explained what could possibly happen when you’re actually in battle. Neville nodded, “He did, it was amazing how he did it honestly.” he replied, making you nod in agreement.

“That’s why we need your help, because if we’re going to have any chance at beating—” Hermione explained, stumbling over her words “—Voldemort.” she finished, glancing at all of you before looking back at Harry.

“He’s really back?” The boy in front of you (which you learned his name to be Nigel) asked, making Harry nod once.

“Well then, if You-Know-Who’s really somewhere out there, I’m here to support Harry any way I can.” You spoke up, giving the trio a knowing smile which they returned with grateful faces.

You were now writing your name on the list of students who would join Dumbledore’s Army when Ron leaned in to whisper, “You and Neville look great together” making you look at him in shock, shaking your head immediately as his assumption. Your head snapped up and looked at Ron, then at Hermione and Harry who were agreeing with Ron.

“W-we’re just friends, nothing else.” You denied, knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way as you do. You shot the three a small smile as you set the pencil down, walking over to Neville who was chatting with Dean.

“Blimey (Y/N), you even have Neville’s scarf? Is there something going on between the two of you?” The talled boy asked, making the both of you shake your head in disagreement, cheeks both flushed red at the question.

“We’re friends, Dean.” Neville was the one to answer this time, giving you a tight-lipped smile as he looked back at his friend to resume whatever topic they were speaking about.

You were the first one to deny any speculations about the two of you, but why were you so hurt when Neville was the one to say it?

---

The holiday break was over and all of you were back at Hogwarts, meaning that the D.A meetings were back on track and you were more than ecstatic to learn more spells. You were arranging your clothes back into your drawer when you caught sight of an unfamiliar scarf, grabbing it from under the heap of clothes, you finally saw the scribbled “Longbottom” on one of the ends.

You smiled fondly, recalling how he gave it to you without hesitation, making your heart flutter at the gesture. Bringing the piece of clothing up to your nose, you can barely pick up Neville’s minty scent, making you smile even more.

“I guess it’s time to give you back, I guess.”

---

You carefully looked around the hallway, eyeing for anyone from the Inquistorial Squad before entering the Room of Requirement.

Instead of seeing a room filled with students, you were greeted by Neville and Harry’s backs, deep in conversation. “I’m quite proud to be their son.” Neville’s voice echoed through the empty space, “but i’m not sure if i’m ready for anyone to know just yet.” He continued, his voice laced with sadness.

You knew what he meant, remembering every story he’s ever told you about his parents, how his mother would give him gum wrappers whenever they visit— even showing you how many he’s kept over the years of him visiting with his grandmother— and your heart swelled even more for the boy, knowing that what he’s doing is not only for himself, but for his parents as well.

“We’re gonna make them proud, Neville. That’s a promise.” Harry’s voice soon followed and as their conversation stopped, you stepped in, clearing your throat. The both of them looked back, relieved to see that it was only you.

“Mind if I have a word with Neville, Potter?” You asked, to which he shook his head, stepping aside and playfully motioning his hand over to the latter, patting him on the shoulder before leaving the two of you alone.

Your heart was pounding at the sudden quietness that enveloped the two of you, your hand gripping the scarf tighter, “Neville, just so you know, I think your mum and dad are very proud of you.” you said gently, stepping towards him with a warm smile, to which he returned with a similar one.

His eyes avoided yours, the tip of his ears red that you’ve caught him in such a vulnerable state, “And if it means anything, I’m also very proud of you.” you added, stepping another inch closer, now making him look at you.

When he looked into your eyes, Neville only saw sincerity and love filling them, making his heartbeat quicken in its pace. He’s always had a crush on you but he never really put anything into action because of the fear that you might not feel the same way. He was about to open his mouth, about to admit his feelings when you heard the door open once again, the voices of the other members filling the room.

He shut his mouth and sighed in defeat, thinking that maybe it wasn’t the right time for his feelings.

“H-here’s your scarf, by the way. I accidentally brought it home for the break.” You spoke up, coughing lightly as your cheeks reddened, realizing how close the two of you were before stepping back to hand him his scarf, “Good luck with today’s spells, Nev.” You bid him before turning your back to run towards Ginny and Hermione.

---

“A full-bodied patronus is the most difficult to produce but shield forms can also be queally useful against a variety of opponents.” Harry explained, walking around the litter of students who were trying their hardest to conjure their patronus.

You were by the corner, struggling to even produce a single stream of light when Harry spoke up again, “Fantastic, Ginny!”, making you look her way to see that she had actually conjured a full-grown horse while you couldn’t even make anything out of it. Your shoulders were slumped at the frustration you feel for yourself.

“Think of the happiest thing you can.” You heard the golden boy’s voice once more, causing you to avert your attention to Neville who was also struggling to make his patronus, smiling at how adorable his focused look was.

Your eyes lingered around everyone who was fascinated by the animals that filled the Room of Requirement, amazed at how powerful happy memories are to protect a person. As you turned to look at Ron, you were surprised to see the figure of a Jack Russell Terrier run and knocking an unsuspecting Neville down.

You snickered quietly at your friend’s unfortunate set-up, you closed your eyes to try and focus on something that truly made you happy; head raking through the endless memories you have made with different people that made your heart bounce with joy.

Until Neville’s goofy smile popped up in your mind, making you smile at the small memory of his features carved deep within your mind and heart.

As you opened your eyes, you muttered the incantation and with the flick of your wand, a St. Bernard dog leaped from the ray of light and wagged its tail, walking around the people in the room.

Your head turned around to call Neville, wanting him to witness this moment when a sudden boom echoed from the other side of the wall, making everyone stop in their tracks. The spirit animals of the students slowly vanished as the wall of their entrance continued to create noise.

As Harry and Nigel got closer to the source of the noise, Neville was quick to rush to your side and put you behind his back as small pieces of the wall flew around the room. You peeked against his side, heart racing as his subtle minty smell filled your senses, managing to calm down your fast heartbeat.

The next thing you knew, the whole wall imploded and Neville’s arms were around you, shielding you from the big chunks of the wall. As he let go, you saw Umbridge, Flich, The Inquisitorial Squad and a guilty looking Cho on the other side.

---

You balled your hand into a fist as you walked out of the Great Hall, jaw clenched as you tried to fight back the tears that welled up.

Dumbledore’s Army had been caught by the Inquisitorial Squad and all of you were sent into detention, forced to use the black quill that engraved deep scars into your hands, as “a reminder of what happens to students who disobey the rules”

As you reached the Common Room, you sat down by the couch, letting your wounded hand’s blood freely drip down. You were too tired to even cast a basic healing spell on yourself, drained from Umbridge’s horrid ways.

Almost lulled into slumber, you’ve been awakened by Neville who grabbed your wounded hand and continued to clean up the mess, gently wiping away the blood with his handkerchief. Silence wrapped the both of you up comfortably, his wordless actions making a warm feeling spread across your chest, sending you into a wholesome state of euphoria at the realization of how much you adored the dark-haired boy.

“Neville” You whispered, making his brown eyes meet yours for a split second before placing your lips against his slightly chapped ones, capturing it in a sweet kiss.

His eyes were wide with your sudden gesture, remaining still as the both of you stayed in that position. Neville was in more than just disbelief, his heart beating out of his ribcage when he felt you slowly pull away from his lips, frowning subtly at the loss of your warmth against him. He searched for the adoration that he’s always seen in your (E/C) orbs, finding comfort in knowing that his feelings were reciprocated.

That the girl who had everyone wrapped around her finger, returned the emotions he swore to keep under the carpet.

His silence broke your heart, thinking that you were rejected and you ruined the only thing that made you happy. “N-Nev, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what came over me, you just looked so perfect and-” but what you didn’t expect was for his lips to be reconnected with yours, his larger hand holding your smaller ones gently, thumb coaxing against your knuckles.

Neville broke away from the kiss, opting to rest his forehead against yours as he asked, “Y-you like me too?” his voice laced with hope and happiness as his eyes met yours once again.

You hummed in agreement, letting your other hand reach up to place it against his neck, the pad of your thumb coaxing his soft skin, “I’ve always had, Neville.”

Leaning back, you saw the confusion etched on his features, “But there were so many boys who are much more good looking and worthy than me, s-so why?” He asked, tone now filled with worry at the realization that he might not be the right person for you.

“Because it was always you Neville. In the sea of people who liked me for my physical appearance, you were the only one who looked passed that and saw me for who I really was. You are worth so much more than what you think of, my love.” comes your answer, heart fluttering at the sight of him leaning into your palm, feeling the tension of his body release.

“I may not come from much, (Y/N), but I promise to always protect you. I promise that my heart only belongs to you.” Neville said, showing you the same smile that filled your heart with joy, the memory that made you the happiest.

“So does my heart, Neville. My heart belongs to you.”

---

BONUS:

“Oi Fred! George! You owe us four sickles” a certain Weasley and a brown haired girl whispered, overlooking the sweet moment the two of you shared by the stairs.

As much as they loved the slow burn the two of you had, they needed their own fun by placing bets who would confess their love first and how it would go down. Your two friends betted that you were the first to move while the twins went with Neville.

“Merlin, remind me to never trust Longbottom again.”

“I swear this is your fault, Freddie.”

---

TAGS: @theweasleyslut @eunoia-kth @starlightweasley @minty-malfoy @glimmering-darling-dolly @sailor-maddie101 @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @ge0rgeweasley @loony-loopy-lupinn

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x y/n #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom fics #neville longbottom imagines #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom fluff

464 notes · View notes

saphirered · 3 years

Text

The Lovers

Spoilers for Campaign 2 Ep141

Man oh man oh man. I've had this one written since the day after the last episode but I've been soooooo hesitant to post it at all 🙈. Anyway... I'm just gonna regardless because it's just sitting there staring at me to either delete or post it 🤭. I hope you enjoy because I'm still so conflicted about his piece of writing 😅. Unless people actually like it I might just end up deleting it after all.

---

Jester had asked you to come along on another journey of the Nein Heroez. She needed your expertise for something but couldn’t get across what for within the twenty-five word limit. Regardless, the opportunity to see and travel with your friends is not one you’re just going to pass on so of course you happily made your way to Nicodranas. Maybe the ocean would do you some good. It’s been a while after all.

In the first few days of your journey Jester had been keeping a close eye on you, watching your responses and reactions. Specifically your reactions to any and all interactions with a certain lavender tiefling. When she was certain your responses to the tiefling in question were not in any way negative and cordial if not friendly you found yourself being paired with him more often than not. Watch, hoisting the sails or dropping them, food shifts and even at the helm a few times.

You caught an argument between Fjord and Jester a few weeks later. Fjord was defending you and telling Jester she couldn’t just play matchmaker after everything that had happened between the previous inhabiter of Kingsley’s body and you and how it might still be a painful subject of not once but twice being faced with someone that’s not the person you loved and lost.

Jester seeing reason in Fjord’s arguments put aside the love story she’d been trying to unfold with you and the poor tiefling as her main characters. The shifts you shared with Kingsley came to a close and would be no more often than any shifts shared with anyone else on the crew.

One day the Nein Heroez made port to stock up on some supplies after being hit by a storm and running short on food. The crew was given some downtime to enjoy the many pleasures port has to offer but you decided to stay back at the ship. You asked Jester for the cards.

You’re sitting crosslegged on the docks watching the sunset as the crew leaves in groups bidding you goodbye while they go. Once the majority of them have left you take out the cards and begin laying them in certain patterns starting with simple ‘yes/no’s onto the past present future and more complicated readings. You’re not paying attention to any particular results but instead study the drawings fondly.

“You’d call me a sentimental fool.” You snicker as the fool card is revealed in front of you.

“Sentimental? Yes. A fool? I’ve yet to decide.” You turn around at the familiar voice seeing the tails of the black sleeveless coat you’ve grown accustomed to seeing around. You pick up the cards and put them back in their order stacking them.

“Oh really? You’d think a few weeks of being not so inconspicuously paired together on any task possible would give you enough time to form an opinion on that?” You tease beginning a new read.

“Maybe that makes me the fool then.” You can almost hear the smirk in his words.

“Care to find out?” You put down card by card face down. You know how to push for certain results. A trick you’d picked up from your former lover. It feels right to use it against him in a strange twisted way like this. Not really him but close enough.

Kingsley sits down to the side, not trusting you to not push him off the docks if he were to make an offensive (in jest of course) remark. Gathering the cards back up you start over. Time for a bit of fun. You push for the first card setting it down face up in front of him.

“The owl and the bear. Some might say the most deadly combination when put together. Be watchful of the owl’s words or you might find yourself at the ends of the bear’s claws.”

“So it was a good idea to sit on this side and avoid meeting my waterlogged demise.”

“Are you doubting my capabilities, Kingsley?” You smirk and watch the tiefling gulp. You move on to the next card making a show of pulling it from the deck and displaying it.

“Look at that! What did I say. The fool has appeared. The cards have spoken. my fool.” You take a bow as if addressing the most pretentious royalty around limited only by your crosslegged position on the docks. Kingsley can’t help but let out a chuckle at your theatrics.

“The cards have spoken indeed! A fool I must be.” He plays along. You begin picking up the two cards and restack the deck.

“Hey hey hey, isn’t there supposed to be three cards for this one? Not two?” You stop. He’s not wrong technically. You raise an eyebrow at him, fan out the cards and allow him to pull one from the deck as per the variant of this reading, putting the fate in the hands of the drawer. Not really of course. Usually you’d still be able to push for a card for them to draw but for this one you’d leave it up to the divines. You’ve had your fun.

And fun it was until Kingsley kept the card for himself, studying it closely. You were curious to see which one he pulled but you hadn’t exactly paid attention to that like you’d otherwise done. You wait for him to either give it back or tell you what it is but he takes a long time.

“So what is it?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. It still takes a good few seconds before he lowers the card so you can see it too.

“Oh.” Is all you manage to vocalise upon seeing the card. The Lovers. The familiar drawing of a lavender tiefling looking at another figure arm outstretched and love in their eyes. The image of the tiefling reaches for the outstretched hand of the other figure; your figure. You’re staring back at your own face and the expression Mollymauk had claimed to have plenty of visual references for to know he could properly draw you but would always ask for one more just to remind him.

“I’m so sorry.” Kingsley hands the card back to you and you keep staring at it. He stays for a little bit to make sure you’re alright as you’re hit with a whirlwind of emotions. Once he’s sure you’re alright he begins to get up.

“I’ll leave you to the rest of your evening. Someone’s gotta make sure these fools drink just enough and start a brawl or two.” You snap out of it putting the card back into the deck.

“Kingsley. It’s alright. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” The whirlwind subsides and you return back to a peaceful state of mind. You offer the tiefling a kind smile and he halts himself sitting back down still somewhat tense. He opens his mouth to say something but is quick to close it again. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as you shuffle the cards absentmindedly. You catch onto the conflict and hesitation in Kingsley’s features.

“If there’s something you wish to say please do say it.”

“When you said you loved him… I think it never registered it was anything other than the love the others held for him. Strongly yes but I always assumed it was akin to Yasha’s. Why didn’t you say anything?” Kingsley states piecing things together watching you closely.

“It’s not a burden for you to bear.” You pull the Lovers card back up to the top and study it closely.

“I might not know much but I don’t think being faced with your dead lover’s body inhabited by someone not him doesn’t bother anyone. That’s just cruel.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Not anymore. I’ve grieved Molly when he died. I grieved him again when Lucien returned. I’ve gone through it all and accepted he’s not coming back and that’s okay. Everything comes to an end at some point. I don’t think it’s cruelty. I think everything is as it should be.” You speak honestly stroking your thumb over the card.

“I have so many questions.” Kingsley states. You get it. He woke up one day, recovering from death not knowing who he is or was before that moment beyond emotions and flashes of a past that didn’t feel like his. That’s exactly why you wanted to spare him another previous relation to figure out. Yes it might make things slightly more difficult for you but that’s not his fault. That’s no one’s fault.

“And I believe Beau gave you her notebook so you can read back about your predecessors. But you’re not ready for that yet, are you? That’s okay. Don’t read it until you feel ready.” Kingsley’s head shoots up to look at you. Why do you understand him? Maybe you’re wiser than he gives you credit for but he thinks you’re already pretty wise.

“Expectations. Everyone expected something of me but I didn’t live up to it. I’m not who he used to be and that disappoints people. But from you, you never expected anything from me. Why?” He’s piecing it together bit by bit. You never slipped up. Never asked him to put on a coat that wasn’t his or asked him if he remembered something. You never even asked him if he recalled anything about you or sought to involve yourself in his life without his permission.

“It’s unfair to expect someone to be or become someone they’re not and never will be. You get to be your own person free of the constraints of the past.” The answer is simple. There’s no deceit or doubt. No hidden message or intent behind it.

“How is it you of all people can say that without pain or regret or wishing it were different?” You turn the card back around and put it back in the deck in its place and put the cards away. You take a second before answering trying to formulate a proper answer as Kingsley waits studying every micro expression.

“Bear with me for this one.” You start and he nods. “Lucien was born lonely forced to fend for himself and make friends out of the need to survive. Molly rose from a grave alone and scared. He was taken in by friends but he had to find a home his home with them. He found that home and got kindness and love. You awoke surrounded by friends, no family you didn’t even know but would still love you regardless. No matter what, you’d always have a home with them. You’d be neither alone nor lonely unless you choose to be.” You explain and take breath before you continue.

“You plant random seeds in the ground it’s very unlikely you’re going to receive the same flower twice. The only similarity they have is that they are seeds and will grow as long as they have the right foundations to do so. When I look upon you I see Kingsley Tealeaf, a man that became a sailor after we brought him back from the Astral Sea. There may be similarities, your roots may even be the same but you are not the same. You are separate.”

Kingsley takes in your words very carefully with a sense of understanding and something with in him he couldn't quite pinpoint until now. Acceptance and content. Whatever might have been holding him back before, he’ll have to come to terms with that. That’s the past and if the past comes searching for him one day, so be it. Until then, Kingsley Tealeaf has a life of his own to live and to enjoy. Enjoy all life has to offer, to its fullest and don’t hold back.

Let the sailor become captain of his own ship knowing he has a home and a family that will welcome him with open arms to return to. Let the eight be nine despite the expectations of others. Be free and be happy. Live content.

#critical role spoilers #critical role #critrole x reader #critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #kingsley tealeaf #kingsley x reader

78 notes · View notes

hiddendreamer67 · 3 years

Text

Giant Mers are Good Mers

That's right, it's MerMay baby! Introducing my new bois. Caspian is a giant siren with influences of Mediterranean monk seals and leopard seals. Beckett is a lil' human who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This piece is a completed oneshot, but I've got a couple ideas for more oneshots with this pairing, including a few ideas for alternate universes (especially after seeing all the fun @ibis-gt seems to be having with AUs of their bois).

Word count: 6,001

Initial prompt idea: human was taken by a giant siren but then let go (on a whim / siren got bored) but human doesn’t know why they were spared so they come back to thank the siren. The siren doesn’t even remember doing that because it was such an insignificant event to them, but now it’s interesting because humans never came on their own.

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

Beckett had always been a simple fellow. He grew up in WhiteBridge, on a small town farm with his three older sisters picking on him ceaselessly. While he loved WhiteBridge and its quaint charms, Beck found his true passion in books, and studied at Oxford for several years before scouring the globe for his passion. In his quest for knowledge, Beckett chose to join a month-long excursion out at sea, and found himself regretting that decision a few weeks later.

“Steady on there.” One of the sailors, Michelle, handed him a pair of earplugs. “You’ll need these where we’re going.”

Beckett eyed the little pieces of foam dubiously. “And just where might that be?”

“Siren territory.”

Beck hardly believed in such fairy tales, but to calm the sailor’s superstitions he inserted the plugs as instructed. Siren tales aside, Beckett found himself growing as twitchy as the sailors. The coastline hadn’t been visible for ages due to a large amount of fog accumulation. The stormy skies were foreboding as well, indicating that proper precautions would need to be taken. This far north, the weather reports often indicated rocky waves far beyond what should be normal.

Would Beckett sink, out here in the middle of nowhere? Was that to be his fate? The young man began to fret, hastening to make himself useful as the first rolls of thunder sounded off and the waves grew steadily higher.

And then, he heard it. Beckett paused, arms slack on the rope as he attempted to hear that haunting melody. Was the weather playing tricks on him, or was someone calling out to him.

“BECK! EARS!”

Beckett blinked, stunned to find himself standing on the slippery railing. When did he get up here? Beck hastened to climb down, noticing the rest of the crew had their hands firmly clasped over their ears, even with the ear plugs inserted.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Even with the double protection, the voice grew in volume, its booming voice penetrating into their heads. Every single person on board fell victim to its call, the ship’s captain turning the wheel to head towards the beckoning beast. Beckett climbed back up to the railing, plunging overboard into the crashing waves.

With a sputter, Beckett fought to keep his breath, legs kicking desperately against the current. Even in his desperate survival state, the voice called to him, and instinctively Beckett swam in the right direction to answer its call.

Every time the voice paused to take a breath, Beck would regain control for only a moment, his heart pounding as his fate flashed before his eyes with nothing to be done about it. Between one blink and the next, the sky grew darker, a looming shape breaching in the distance. Another blink, and Beckett’s face lost all complexion staring up at his demise.

A great sea serpent, half man half beast, towered with its human half over the pitiful human. With a single shift of its body, the beast created waves that threatened to pull Beck under. Those sharp features and piercing blue eyes were unforgettable, and subconsciously Beck realized this was the last face he would ever see.

Another blink. This time, when the serpent let out a hum, Beckett remained conscious but still out of his own control. His body was lax but his mind manic. The siren reached for him, slimy claws surrounding his form and making Beck shudder as he was raised 50 feet in the air in seconds. Beckett whimpered, coughing out sea water as his gaze was drawn down to the siren’s lips. The creature grinned and revealed its razor-sharp fangs. Taking a deep breath in, the siren revealed the cavernous depths beyond as it prepared to inhale its next meal.

Beckett pleaded nonsense pitifully, tears pouring down his cheeks as the haunting nothingness washed over his mind yet again. Would he even wake once more? Was the beast merciful enough to let Beckett go in his sleep?

When Beckett woke up, he thought he was dead.

He squinted, the sun too bright for his eyes. The sun? What happened to the storm? Stranger yet, the water that had soaked him to the bone was no more. Beck was dry, wrapped in blankets in a stranger’s bed.

“You’re awake.”

Beckett turned his head, his sore muscles protesting the movement. Beside him sat an older looking fellow, hair greying with age. “Who’re you?”

“The name’s Seymour.” Seymour introduced himself. “And who’re you?”

“Beck.” Beckett’s voice felt like he hadn’t spoken in days. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you tried awful hard.” Seymour assured him. “Found you passed out on the shore two days ago. Guessin’ you were part of some shipwreck? Though there wasn’t much wreckage to be found. Awfully impressive for you to have swam that far.”

Is that what happened? Beck frowned, trying to parse out the details. His body ached something terrible. He did remember swimming for a great distance. Had the siren all been a strange vision of his adrenaline-infused thoughts?

“...huh.” Beck settled back into the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. “I… didn’t know I could do that.”

“Well that, or an angel saved you.” Seymour chuckled. “You’re one lucky soul.”

Beck squinted in thought. If that’s what angels looked like, he could understand why all biblical depictions had humans cowering in fear.

(...was it an angel?)

Beckett spent some of the most confusing weeks of his life recovering from the shipwreck. Even as his physical form healed, Beck couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the events that transpired that night. He couldn’t get the notion out of his head that the giant sea serpent was real. It had all felt so lifelike, the claws and the fish breath and the dark melodious tones that haunted his dreams…

Seymour was kind enough to open his home to Beck, offering the traumatized lad a position maintaining his lighthouse while Beckett still fought to gather his wits. “Yer’ not the first.” Seymour assured him with a chuckle. “It’s no water off my back if you want to keep me company while you figure things out.”

You’re not the first. Beckett had cleared his throat, wanting to address that thought. “The other people who wash up on shore… did they ever… see anything?”

Seymour raised a patient eyebrow. “What do you mean, seen? Figure you lot have all seen a lot, what with the wreckage.”

“No, I mean, out at sea.” Beck felt foolish, twiddling his thumbs a bit. “Like a… like a merman.”

To his credit, Seymour did nothing more than a slow blink. “A merman.” He repeated.

“But, not a regular merman.” Beck winced at his own words. Just what was a regular merman? “A big one, like a hundred feet long, and pale white skin, and white locks of hair, and piercing blue eyes-”

“Kid.” Seymour cut him off. “I’ll tell it to ya straight. No, I ain’t ever heard nothing like that.”

Today, Beckett found himself on the cliffside, safely back from the edge as he watched the distant waves. His knees were tucked up to his chest, chin atop them as Beck sat lost in thought. Somewhere out there, Beckett’s giant captor- and later savior- was out there.

Why did the beast let him go? Even further than that, the siren had gone out of its way to give Beck a chance at life. There’s no way Beckett could have made it all the way to the shore on his own, disoriented as he had been.

Despite his better judgement, Beckett had to know the truth. With this foolish notion in mind, Beck set out a few months later, having rented a boat from one of the local fishermen. It took a lot of practice for Beckett to learn how to guide such a vessel, as every crest of a wave made the poor lad jump.

Seymour must think he was mad. Often the kind old man reminded Beckett that he didn’t have to conquer his fear of the waves directly, but Beck had just shook his head. Seymour couldn’t understand the debt Beck felt to the creature that had saved his life, and his curiosity kept him captive. Beckett wouldn’t be free until he had answers.

Of course, once he was out on the waters, Beck realized how foolish of a plan this truly was- he knew nothing about aquatic navigation. Every part of the ocean looked the same to him. Even worse, his memories of the last sea journey were extremely muddled. How on earth was he going to find the same location?

And even as Beck drifted in waters that may or may not be similar, the human realized he had no surefire way of gaining the siren’s attention. He settled for calling out often, hoping his carrying voice would be enough. Did the beast understand english? It was deceptively human-looking.

Beckett’s throat grew parched, and Beck sat down a moment to take careful sips of water from his dwindling bottle. The sky was growing darker, and a familiar fog had begun to roll in. An eerie chill began to creep up the back of Beckett’s neck. Suddenly, this plan wasn’t feeling so wise.

That’s when he heard it. The familiar song of his dreams was echoing across the water. Beck had forgotten the feeling, his limbs stiffening against his will like a marionette pulled taunt.

Blink. A gigantic fish tail, just the tip cresting the waves. Blink. Beckett found himself in the waves, gasping as he kicked frantically to keep his head above water. Blink. All too soon, Beck found himself clasped between those claws, water dripping from his locks as he stared at those terrifying chompers.

Oh god. This was a terrible idea. What should he do? What was there to do? All the blood left Beckett’s face, watching the siren lick its lips. It raised Beck higher, dangling the human by the back of his shirt above a now gaping maw. Beckett let out an unholy screech, realizing he had made a terrible mistake.

Beckett squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the words out of his lungs before he never got the chance again. “WHY DID YOU SPARE ME?!”

To Beck’s great relief, he didn’t find himself lowered onto the beast’s tongue. Instead, after the longest pause of Beckett’s life, he opened his eyes to see the siren’s mouth had gone slack.

“What?”

Beck’s eyebrows shot up into his scalp, shocked to hear the siren actually speak. Guess that meant it understood english, too. Beckett cautiously raised his gaze, meeting the siren’s eyes instead of its teeth. The creature looked confused, to say the least.

“You-” Beck cleared his throat, knowing he had to keep the siren’s attention lest he become a meal. “You spared me.” The siren’s brow furrowed further. Beckett frowned. “You… you saved my life? I mean, first you threatened it, but… 3 months ago? You- our ship, and the song, and… I woke up on the shore…”

Unfortunately, despite being the most momentous occasion of Beckett’s life, the giant sea serpent didn’t seem to have given the night a second thought. Beck couldn’t stop the sinking feel in his chest, knowing this whole journey was pointless after all.

The siren slowly shook his head. “That sounds unlike me.”

“It’s true!” Beckett insisted, especially because his life seemed to be on the line. “I was baffled too, but for some reason you spared me, and-and I don’t know why either! It’s been driving me insane. Why else would I sail all the way out here trying to find you?”

“You came looking for me?” This, at least, caused the siren to raise an interested eyebrow. “That would be a first.”

Beck nodded quickly. “Yes! I’ve been shouting for you all day. And before that I’ve been training for weeks, saving up for a downpayment to borrow Ben’s boat, which I’ll probably be losing now that I have no idea where that ended up…” Beckett grimaced, once again meeting the siren’s gaze. “Sorry, I’ve been told I have a tendency to sidetrack conversations in uncomfortable situations. Boat’s not important. Please don’t eat me.”

To both of their surprise, the siren let out an amused snort, the hot fishy air rustling Beck’s hair.

“I apologize for that.” The creature had the decency to look sheepish, even as its words curdled Beckett’s blood. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Wait, what?!” Beckett immediately began screeching, attempting to squirm out of the claws still holding him captive.

“Stop!” The siren hissed, his grip tightening painfully around Beck’s ribs. “You will fall with that behavior.”

Beck winced, continuing to struggle against the crushing appendages. “That was kind of the idea. I choose waves over teeth.”

“Waves over…?” The siren shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I will not eat you.”

Beck found that hard to believe. He squinted, judging the gigantic face before him even as the pressure stayed tight around his chest. “So, you were going to?”

“Yes.”

“But now you’re not.”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Because you’re quite interesting, little human.” The siren admitted. “Your question confuses me. Do you want to be eaten?”

Beck chose wisely to avoid that question. “My name’s Beckett.” He said instead. “Beck, for short. Not little human, or anything.”

The siren blinked. It must be strange putting a name to your not-food. “My name is Caspian.”

Caspian. For some reason, Beck hadn’t actually pictured the siren having a name. Or talking. Or generally possessing much humanity at all… the self-reflection made him feel a bit guilty.

“It’s nice to meet you, Caspian.” Beck greeted. He glanced around, realizing the sun had finished setting. “Can we circle back to the boat issue? I mean, I’m glad this hasn’t ended fatally, but it is getting late.”

“Hold on.” Caspian frowned. “You spent all that effort to reach me, only to leave? Little Beck, your story has holes.”

“No, no no no.” Beck quickly shut that down, hastily trying to avoid any possibility of a vengeful siren. “No that’s not it at all. It’s just, your time must be very valuable, and I don’t want to intrude. And also, contrary to popular belief, I'm not a great swimmer. Hence the boat.”

“Hmm.” Caspian seemed to consider this for several moments. The giant seemed to reach a conclusion, but Beck was uncertain what it was as he was raised up above Caspian’s head. “Climb on.”

“Climb on?” Beck repeated, confused.

“And hold on tight.” Caspian advised, opening his palm and tilting it so that Beck slid off with a yelp. “I was under the impression you need air to survive?”

“YES! Yes, that is- yes, I need that.” Beckett confirmed, quickly grabbing onto Caspian’s hair as best he could. Not the easiest task in the world with how everything, including himself, was soaked. Nevertheless, Beck was wise enough to prepare himself for whatever a massive sea serpent might have planned.

Without further warning, Caspian lowered himself into the water, only keeping the top of his head above the waves for Beck’s benefit. Beck hastily lowered himself onto his stomach, not wanting to slide off Caspian’s head as the mer began to swim through the ocean faster than a speedboat.

“Where are you going!” Beck shouted above the wind whipping at his face. He squinted, trying to see where the siren was headed but having no luck. Were they swimming to the boat? Had Beck really gotten so far away from it?

Unfortunately, the siren himself offered no answers. The night sky and fog did not help Beck’s visibility. In these conditions, he was practically blind.

After several minutes of this less-than-ideal water travel, Caspian came to an abrupt stop. Beck frowned, finding himself staring at a rocky cliffside shore. Was Caspian trying to return him to the lighthouse again? But none of this looked familiar…

Caspian raised his head above the waves, sending Beck scrambling to keep his hold. It didn’t matter, as those familiar claws came up and plucked the human from Caspian’s hair.

“Hold your breath.” Caspian advised. This was Beck’s only warning as he was cupped between Caspian’s hands, the mer diving beneath the surface.

Thankfully, Beckett was intelligent enough to take the warning to heart. He held his breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut to avoid getting saltwater in them. The pressure became quite intense as Caspian dove several dozen meters down with ease. It made Beck feel like his head would pop at any moment. Was Caspian trying to drown him? But why go through all the effort of telling Beck to hold his breath, if only to drag it out?

Just as Beck could take it no longer and felt on the verge of passing out, Caspian breached the surface. Immediately Beck began to suck in large gulps of air, snorting to get the water that got stuck unpleasantly up his nose.

Despite being above the surface, Beck couldn’t see anything. He tried not to panic, heart racing thanks to all the uncertainties of the situation. “Where- where are we?”

“Home.”

Caspian’s answer only brought on further questions. Home? What kind of home did a gigantic merman have, anyway? Slowly his human eyes began to adjust to the darkness, noticing that bioluminescent moss seemed to give the space just enough light to see the outlines of shapes. It appeared they were in some sort of underground cavern, the water lapping against a craggy water-worn shore.

“Ah, yes. Of Course. Home.” Beck tried not to think about the several deadly reasons a wild animal might welcome him into its living space. But thankfully, Caspian wasn’t just an animal. He could talk, he seemed half human- that had to amount to something, right?

Of course, Caspian had still planned to eat him. So. There’s that.

“You’re still not gonna eat me, right?” Beck asked, not about to leave something so important to chance.

“Right.” Caspian sighed, as if the question were a mild annoyance and not tied to Beckett’s entire livelihood. “But you have disturbed my hunting time. I’m hungry.”

“Not sure that’s entirely my fault…” Beckett murmured to himself.

Caspian lowered his cupped palms to the rocky shore, setting Beck down away from the water’s edge. “Stay here.”

“Wha-? Stay here?” Beck became alarmed, taking a few nervous steps to catch his footing on the slippery slope. “Where are you going?”

“Do not worry.” Caspian assured Beck, easing himself back into the water. “I’ll bring you back something to eat as well.” With that, Caspian dove back into the water, leaving Beck alone in this dark murky cave.

Beckett blinked, shocked to find himself alone in this enclosure. “I don’t think he knows what humans eat.” Beck grimaced, not eager to see just what Caspian would be bringing back for him. Would it be wriggling? Slimy? Would it be human? The thought made Beck want to throw up.

Beckett shivered, feeling chilly now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. He found himself in an unknown underwater cave off the coastline somewhere, still soaked to the bone in his wet rags. The icy temperature in here was freezing, and the water wasn’t any warmer. Was Beck going to die of frostbite here? How long was Caspian planning on keeping him prisoner?

Beckett walked up and down the shore, looking for any driftwood or materials to make a fire. He had no luck, of course, but even if he had Beck didn’t know the first thing about starting a fire. So with nothing to warm himself, what should Beck do? Beckett knew from all the books he’d read on environmental conditions that staying in his wet clothing was one of the worst strategies for survival, but standing around naked in the freezing cave didn’t sound any more appealing. Not to mention, Beck had no way of drying his clothes even if they left his person. He would just have to put the soaking wet rags back on eventually.

Making a foolish decision, Beck kept his clothes on in the hopes that his own body temperature would help dry them eventually. Coming from the man who went out to sea to search for his would-be murderer all day, perhaps Beck shouldn’t be treating himself as a good source for advice.

“What was I thinking?” Beck murmured, pacing back and forth to try and keep the blood flowing to his extremities. His fingertips were growing numb, and Beck shoved them in his armpits to try and keep them warm.

Should he try and escape? Beckett guessed there must be some underwater entrance to this cavern, but there was no way of knowing how deep he would have to dive to reach it, how long the tunnel itself was, nor how high he’d have to swim to reach the surface on the other side. Beckett wasn’t known to be a particularly decent swimmer. Even just the idea of getting in the water right now made Beck shudder, not eager to get soaking wet once more.

Beckett let out a yawn, the excitement of the day catching up to him. He was cold, and tired. Nothing sounded better than stripping off these clothes and lying down in a warm, dry bed back at Seymour’s.

Oh gosh, Seymour. What was the old man gonna think when Beck didn’t return home like he claimed? He knew Seymour had little faith in Beck’s sailing abilities, but Beckett had foolishly promised to be careful. Would Seymour mourn him? Worse yet, would Seymour try to send out a rescue? What if Caspian found him and wasn’t so merciful?

Beckett was dead on his feet by the time the water began to shift. Beck slapped himself out of his stupor, standing to attention in his semi-dry clothes as the giant merman emerged.

Caspian pulled himself partially up onto the shore, holding out one hand to Beck. As expected, none of this looked edible in its current form. There was a live octopus, still wriggling around, a half dozen oysters, a few slimy eels, and a few other squirming entities Beckett wasn’t certain how to classify.

“Oh, thanks.” Beck tried to keep the disgust off his facial features. Even with not eating all day, Beck didn’t have much of an appetite. But would Caspian be mad if Beck didn’t eat it? It’s not like Beckett asked for it in the first place...

“I was uncertain what you would like.” Caspian admitted, a soft frown gracing his features as he nudged the human with his fingertips, encouraging Beck to eat. “Will this be good for you? Do not be shy, I ate my fill already.”

Beck cleared his throat. “Well, uh, some of this is what humans can eat, but we don’t eat it… raw. Or alive, usually.”

“Hmm.” Caspian considered this for a moment, taking one of the eels between his claws. Caspian raised the creature to his lips. In one swift motion, Caspian used his fangs to tear off the eel’s head, sending a small spurt of blood spattering down.

Beck cried out, quickly covering his head with his arms to try and avoid getting caught in the rain. “COOKED! IT NEEDS TO BE COOKED!” Beck hastily corrected, turning a bit green as Caspian tried to once again offer him the bloody corpse. “It needs to be prepared right, too, I don’t think I’m supposed to eat a lot of stuff found in live fish, they usually gut ‘em and stuff, and I’ve never been one for sushi in the first place.”

Caspian licked his lips, clearing away the blood stains as he tilted his head like a pup. “What do you mean, ‘cooked’?”

Beck slowly uncovered his head, thankful Caspian seemed to have backed off for a moment. “Right, cooked.” Beck nodded to himself. “Guess you wouldn’t know what that is, living in the ocean and all. Um, do you know what fire is?” It was Caspian’s turn to nod. “Wait, you do? How?”

“Fire chokes out life.” Caspian explained. “It creates the smoke and the ash that destroys the shores.”

“Well… yeah, I guess it does do that, sometimes.” Beckett admitted. “But we use it in smaller, healthy doses. You use it to cook your food, usually heating it up and changing it to be healthy.”

Caspian seemed more confused the further this conversation went on.

“Unfortunately, there’s no fuel here anyways.” Beck gestured to their surroundings. “And I don’t know how to make a fire anyways, so-”

“No fire.” Caspian said sternly. He sounded more like a stern parent, banning experimentation with firecrackers in the house.

“No fire.” Beck confirmed. He glanced at the ceiling. “Probably wouldn’t have been the best idea anyways, all enclosed like this. But anyways, no. I can’t accept your fish. Thank you, it was very kind of you, I’ll be forever grateful, but if I eat that I will be sick.”

“...hmm.” Caspian looked- disappointed? Frustrated? It was hard to tell the mer’s emotions, but Caspian at the very least seemed to understand Beck’s meaning, as he pulled his handful of fish back to himself. With a thoughtful expression, giving Beck one last option to protest, Caspian tilted the whole mixture into his mouth, chewing it into a paste and swallowing with ease.

Gross. Beck kept this thought to himself, grateful he was not on the other side of Caspian’s abs himself as the pleased merman gave his stomach a few pats.

“Then what will you eat?” Caspain asked, laying down to be more at eye level with the little man.

“Well, uh, I suppose I can always eat after I get home.” Beckett chose his words carefully, still uncertain what Caspian’s intentions were. “My friend would usually make meals with me. Stew, most of the time.”

Caspian’s eyebrows furrowed. “I can make stew with you.”

“No, you can’t.” Beck corrected. Gently. “No fire, remember? Fire’s needed for stew, too. And we don’t have any of the other ingredients. Vegetables, seasonings, broth, cooked meat… stuff like that. And any we got in here would be soaked with sea water, and that’s not great for humans either.”

The giant siren seemed displeased with this answer, obviously intent on keeping the human alive. This, at least, was one positive note in a storm of negativity for the evening.

With a displeased hum, Caspian reached out his hand towards Beckett. Instinctively Beck flinched away, worried the siren had gotten bored and wanted to do away with him, but all that happened was a giant digit began carefully stroking the top of Beck’s head and down the length of his back.

“Uh...what are you doing?” Beck asked, still stiff as a board.

Caspian didn’t seem inclined to answer. Instead he tilted his head, curious blue eyes intently studying Beckett. “Can you sing?”

Beckett blinked. “Can I what?”

“Can you sing?�� Caspian repeated, and after Beck gave a nod: “sing for me.”

“Oh, well, I can sing, but not very well, mind you.” Beck admitted, looking a bit sheepish. The stage had always been his sister’s forte. “Certainly not to your caliber. I don’t think you want to hear me sing at all, actually.”

“Yes I do.” Caspian insisted gently. “Sing.”

Beck let out a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for such a task. What song does one even use to serenade a siren? After careful consideration, Beckett selected an old nursery rhyme from his childhood, both for its brief length and easy melody.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star-” Beckett began, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat, trying to project a bit more even as Caspian leaned in to hear. “How I wonder what you are. Like a diamond in the sky, up above the world so high…”

Beckett had shut his eyes, trying to forget about any pressures to perform. A nice benefit to this impromptu concert is that Caspian had paused his petting to allow Beck to focus. “Twinkle twinkle, little star… how… er, ...up… ah…y’know what? I’ve forgotten the last line, actually.”

Beck grimaced, opening his eyes. Caspian was as difficult to read as ever, the siren’s face passive as Beckett awaited any sort of review.

“That was it?” Caspian clarified.

“Yeah, not a very long song.” Beckett agreed. “Meant for children, y’know? Just to… well I don’t know the point of it, actually, I guess it’s just something to sing.”

“Ah.” Caspian drummed his fingers along the rocks. “It was…”

Beckett waited not so patiently. “Well?” He spoke up. “I told you I’m a lousy singer.”

Considering the siren made no effort to disagree, Caspian held the same opinion, yet he wore a pained expression. Perhaps Caspian had held out hope for Beck after all? But then again, even if he were a renowned opera singer, how could a human voice ever possibly appeal to a siren?

“I thought everyone could sing.” Caspian admitted quietly.

For some reason, this bashful admission is what finally set Beck roaring with laughter. Beck clutched at his sides, doubled over with mirth as a concerned siren watched. Caspian let out a noise of concern, reaching out his hand to prod Beck in the side.

“No- I’m good!” Beck hastily assured him, pushing away the finger as if he had any chance of telling the siren what to do. “It’s just- ah, fuck. What a day, you know?” And with that, tears began to pour down Beckett’s cheeks, the poor exhausted boy helpless to stop them as he alternated between laughing and sobbing.

Now Caspian let out a whine, the trill noise echoing across the cavern walls as Caspian scooped the human up into his hands. Beck gasped, momentarily without air as he was forced against Caspian’s chest. “Shh, shhh.” Caspian hushed him, patting his back like he was a child.

Well, what did it matter? Beck felt like a child. He was tired, and hungry, and cold, and he just wanted to go home. Unable to work on any of those things, Beckett tried instead to take the comfort that was given to him, so overwhelmed by the day that this might as well happen.

Beck hiccupped, his tears still coming but too exhausted to keep wailing. Beckett leaned into Caspian’s chest, the smooth seal texture feeling surprisingly warm and dry for a creature that spent most of its life in the ocean. If he focused, Beck could hear a rhythmic thumping. It was Caspian’s heart, just on the other side of this ribcage.

“I wanna go home.” Beck murmured, more to himself than the siren who wouldn’t listen. “I just wanna go home.”

A rumbling sensation filled Beck’s ears, which he slowly recognized as Caspian’s singing. Beck closed his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to the call.

…

“...Beck?”

---

“-OI! Wake UP!”

Beck coughed, startled awake as he found himself once again doused in sea water. He blinked, disoriented to feel the surface beneath him was rocking like a boat. Before Beck could ponder that out, a bright light shined directly in his eyes, making him squint.

“Blimey, you look half dead.” Seymour whistled, taking stock of Beck’s appearance.

“I...what?” Beck frowned, looking around. They were on a boat. What happened? Last thing he remembered, Caspian had been coddling him like a wounded babe. “Where’s Caspian?”

“Who?” Seymour didn’t have a clue.

“Caspian! I- the giant siren!” Beck looked around, trying to spot anything in the darkness of night.

“Boy, I think you swallowed too much seawater.” Seymour shook his head, easing Beck back down. “Take it easy, you’re lucky to be alive.” Seymour pulled out an emergency orange blanket, wrapping it firmly around Beck’s shoulders. It was only then that Beck came to the startling conclusion he was naked, stripped of his wet clothes entirely. At least he could see them lying on the deck as well.

“The voice.” Beck insisted, staying down only because his head felt dizzy. “You must have heard him singing? He was singing. What’d I miss this time?”

Seymour had no answers, as far as giant sirens went. Instead, he explained his side of things. “When you didn’t come back yesterday, I came out to look for ya.” Seymour explained. “You must have a guardian angel after all. Caught you in my sights only by change with the spotlight, adrift in the waves. No idea how the hell you’ve got a speck of life in you, jumping in without a liferaft or lifejacket or nothin’. Holy hell son, ya got a death wish, there’s easier ways of going out.”

“I- what?” Beck frowned. “No, that… that’s not what happened.”

“Hypothermia can cause hallucinations.” Seymour swore under his breath. “Shit, you’re in a worse state than I thought. Never should have let you come out here alone in the first place, nevermind with Ben’s boat. He’s gonna kill ya, y’know, if you do manage to survive the night.”

“Didn’t mean to lose the boat.” Beckett rubbed at his eyes. “Got left behind on the way to the caverns.”

“To the caverns, he says.” Seymour rolled his eyes, handing Beck a warm thermos. “Drink. Sit. And don’t fall asleep.” With these last instructions, Seymour moved over to the captain’s chair, starting the motor and steering the boat back towards shore.

Beck stared at the waves passing by, sipping gently at the contents of the thermos. Tasted like hot lemon tea. Beck would have preferred hot chocolate, if shipwreck survivors were allowed to have preferences.

Was it a shipwreck? Did he jump in? No… no it was Caspian, wasn’t it? Dumb seal’s fault for it all. That, Beck was certain. Too bad he couldn’t charge the siren for Ben’s boat.

Before, Beck had barely escaped with his life, lost and confused about his potential giant savior. Now, he knew so much more than he had before. Caspian was real. Caspian’s name was Caspian. Caspian had intended to eat him, didn’t, and then let him go. Caspian had forgotten him.

Would Caspian forget him again? Why did that notion make Beck feel so uneasy?

It wasn’t like Beck owed Caspian anything, truly. The guy had saved his life twice now, but only after endangering it in the first place. But why did Caspian let him go this time? It seemed as if Caspian was intent on keeping him around like some sort of amusing lil’ pet. What had changed?

Beck’s mind was too tired to process through such things. He sipped more of the tea, growing drowsy.

“No sleeping!” Seymour yelled.

“Yes sir!” Beck jolted upright, regretting it when his head pounded. The sound of the waves had changed. Beck could hear them crashing against the shore, indicating they were almost to the dock.

Seymour expertly steered the ship into the harbor, a feat which took a good deal of skill in the middle of the night. Once securely fastened, Seymour offered Beck a hand, hauling the boy to his feet and keeping Beck steady all the way up to the lighthouse.

“Alright, in you get.” Seymour instructed, easing Beck into bed. He piled more blankets onto Beckett, disappearing briefly to grab a warm compress which he placed on Beckett’s forehead.

“I really did see him.” Beckett murmured, closing his eyes as the warmth lulled him into a deep slumber.

Seymour let out a low sigh. “I’m sure you did.” Seymour murmured, patting Beck’s arm.

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant mermaid #giant mers #giant siren #OCs #Caspian #Beckett #giant!siren!caspian #human!beckett

119 notes · View notes

wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Fraternizing and Spineless (Kabuto x Reader, FINALE)

Synopsis: Kabuto has a fixation and you sometimes apologize to inanimate objects. Ever since one fateful day, you’ve been drawn to each other from opposite sides of the battlefield.

Word Count: 3,169

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Language Probably, Canon Divergence, Alcohol, Implied Torture, Espionage, Fem!Reader @tiktoktheclockisticking

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Finale

Notes: I can’t believe it’s over. Damn... okay.

Kabuto sat at the bar. He fiddled with the neck of his near-empty bottle.

You hadn’t been home for about three days.

Even in a village full of trained shinobi, no one seemed to notice him. But with all his years in espionage, Kabuto would be surprised if anyone did. The bartender came over, motioning to take the glassware, but Kabuto held up a hand with the shake of his head. The bottle stayed. He originally intended for the bottle to be more of a prop than an actual drink, but the more he asked about you and the more people didn’t seem to know, the less decorative the liquid became. No one seemed to know your name and if they did, they certainly didn’t acknowledge it. Kabuto only heard the same story and not much more: that a terror attack was carried out on the Leaf by the Sound. While Orochimaru did send men after you, Kabuto saw that crater with his own eyes. He knew two things for sure: your chakra signature and that the Leaf was trying to cover it up. Kabuto took a deep breath, assuring himself that he just hadn’t found the right person to talk to yet.

“That was a pretty deep sigh there.” Kabuto turned to his right. The man next to him leaned on his elbows, slightly hunched over the counter. A few wisps of hair fell from his high ponytail. He took a sip of his drink, nose scrunching at the strength. The scar across his face flexed with his red-tinted cheeks. The man met Kabuto’s gaze. He motioned to Kabuto’s, unknown to him, stolen vest. “Are they working you Jounin as hard as I’ve heard?” Kabuto faked a slight laugh.

“Oh yes they are,” he answered, bobbing his head a few times. Kabuto fully intended on leaving the conversation there, but he took a momentary pause and studied the man out of the corner of his eye. Kabuto bit the inside of his lip before turning fully on his stool to offer his hand to the stranger. “Asai Takehiko,” he lied. The man grabbed his hand without a moment of hesitation.

“Umino Iruka.” The Leaf ninja introduced himself before downing the rest of his drink before waving the bartender over for another. Iruka motioned towards Kabuto. “I’ve never seen you around.”

“I graduated to Jounin recently. You know how it is with new meat on the battlefield. I suppose being thrown in at the deep end is one way to gain experience.” Iruka chuckled.

“So you must not have been home for a while then. I’ll cheers to that.” He lifted his glass and Kabuto fingers wrapped around the neck of his own bottle. The glasses clinked together. Kabuto held his to his lips, pretending to take a sip as he studied the dwindling liquid of Iruka’s cup. After a few seconds, Iruka came up for air. “Not taking the Jounin exam is definitely something I don’t regret.” Kabuto quirked an eyebrow.

“What are they having you do?”

“I teach.” Kabuto’s eyes flickered in amusement. He restrained the corners of his lips from turning upward, covering his mouth with one hand in order to not give himself away.

“You teach? I’m assuming at the Academy?” Iruka nodded and Kabuto snorted, hitting Iruka playfully on the arm. “You work with kids and you’re day drinking on a weekday?” The mocking tone translated nicely into playfulness.

“It’s been that kind of week, my friend.” Iruka’s smile faltered, his gaze focused on blank space as he seemed to recall a particularly bitter memory. Kabuto’s expression narrowed. He had a hunch, but he wasn’t about to reveal his hand yet. Perhaps luck shone down on him after all. Kabuto took another swig from his drink with a casual shrug.

“I think everyone’s been kinda on edge. You know, with what happened. An attack in the middle of the village is some real scary stuff.” Iruka pursed his lips, a subtle display of body language that was not lost on Kabuto. He went on. “You know, just being a new rank in this line of work. I have family around where it happened. I’m afraid that I won’t be there to protect them if something like this happens again.” Iruka shook his head.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said with a fair amount of hesitation. He gulped, running a palm across his face. “With all the precautions being taken by the Hokage I’m sure that it won’t happen again any time soon.” Kabuto crossed his legs and tilted his head.

“You seem to have more information than I do. And you seem pretty upset.” Iruka let out a bitter huff.

“Yeah, I think that’s an understatement.” Kabuto paused, giving time for his victim to marinate in his thoughts before he probed further. Iruka’s chest puffed out as he filled his lungs with air. Another heavy huff. “It’s all just… very confusing and conflicting and I haven’t been able to get proper sleep for a while because for some weird reason I feel responsible.” Iruka didn’t bat an eye at his own confession or at the fact that he was venting to a stranger. Kabuto’s interest, however, was piqued.

“Responsible, huh?” He put a hand on Iruka’s shoulder and pointed a finger at his chest with the other. “You sound like you’re being way too hard on yourself.”

“I wish I was.” Yet another sigh from Iruka. “I really do…” Kabuto frowned, faux confusion washing over his features.

“It was the Sound Village, my man. I think you’ve had one too many to be thinking that kinda stuff.” Iruka hesitated as he looked around wildly. The bar had, for the most part, cleared out to leave Kabuto, Iruka, and a single stranger at the very end of the bar. The bartender had stepped out at some point during their conversation. Iruka leaned in a bit closer.

“Okay, you promise that this stays between you and me?” Kabuto inwardly celebrated his victory but kept his expression concerned and humble. Demeanor sympathetic, he nodded. Iruka looked around again before whispering, “The Hidden Sound didn’t attack the Leaf. At least not directly.” Kabuto blinked, mouth agape in faux surprise.

“What does that mean?” He started to grow just the slightest bit impatient, but Kabuto reminded himself that after days of information gathering, he had struck gold. He was going to find you, no matter what it took.

“It means that the Hokage is investigating one of our own for conspiracy and treason.” Kabuto covered his mouth before letting his wrist fall back onto his lap.

“No. Conspiracy against the village?” Kabuto couldn’t help the slightest bit of guilt gnaw at him. Maybe he hadn’t been as careful visiting you as he thought he had been, but for the moment he pushed those thoughts from his mind. He tilted his head towards the ceiling, eyes moving back and forth in pretend thought. “This wouldn’t be a friend of yours would it?” Kabuto met Iruka’s surprised eyes.

“How did you know?” Iruka’s guard was officially down. Kabuto offered a friendly smile.

“Well because you’re so distraught! Anyone could take a guess. Have you at least gotten a chance to talk to her?” Iruka recognized something off about his new friend’s statement, but he couldn’t pinpoint it in his intoxication. He nodded, describing the journey to your cell and your painful conversation.

But Kabuto didn’t care much for the bit about your conversation. Rather, he sat in quiet, victorious awe as the building you were in and the floor number slipped from Iruka’s lips. In the end, that’s all he would need. Iruka, at least at the moment, didn’t suspect a thing.

***

The blood remained smeared across your skin despite your injuries healing hours before. The Leaf had gotten creative.

You were certain that Iruka didn’t believe your story, so you were confident that the Torture and Interrigation Force didn’t either. Even if it was the truth. You steadied yourself and slowly leaned back to lay down on your cot. In spite of your closed wounds, your muscles stretched in soreness. You shifted to one side, spine cracking along your back. The taste of your own blood lingered in your mouth.

The moon shone through the sliver of a window near the ceiling of your cell. Looking up, you couldn’t help but wonder what Kabuto was doing. You wondered if he was looking for you. You cringed at the memory of your last conversation. The night where you practically threw yourself at him in desperation, spouting feelings that perhaps should have gone unspoken. Maybe Iruka was right. Maybe you really weren’t making any sense. You sighed aloud to yourself. Yeah, you sure scared him off alright.

You let your eyes flutter shut. You hadn’t been allowed to enjoy a full night of sleep and you knew that it would only be a matter of time before someone came to drag you away again. You didn’t suppose that many fraternized with Sound ninja just for the companionship. The Leaf expected a grander plot. Part of you considered making up a lie, that maybe you’d be let go if you told them what they wanted to hear, but you knew no matter what you said you’d be stuck. Your breathing slowed quickly and for once since you had been locked up, a semblance of peace overcame you.

By the time you heard the door open, you didn’t even know whether or not you had actually had any time to rest. You were still exhausted, but the moment you heard the tinkering of keys at your cell door you bolted straight up. Out of it, you didn’t even register standing until after the fact. Two shinobi entered your confines. You could hardly muster a coherent thought and you certainly couldn’t process the body of the unconscious guard that fell at your feet.

“You weren’t away that long that you forgot about me, were you, dear?”

You dragged your eyes up, heart beating faster and faster. Kabuto stood before you. He still held his kunai. The Konoha Jounin uniform fit him nicely, a vision of what might have been in another world. He grinned ear to ear, smug smirk plastered onto his lips. Your eyes widened. Without a moment's hesitation, you went to him and he accepted you with open arms. His weapon clattered to the floor. Your lips crashed into one another’s like waves on the shore. Kabuto held you close. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your fingers tangled in his hair. Kabuto’s stolen hitai-ate fell down around his eyes. He pushed it back up and you both parted. He was there, right there under your fingertips. You couldn’t stop shaking. You buried your face in his shoulder and he caressed the back of your head. Hot tears ran down your cheeks and down his vest. You didn’t even realize that you were crying.

“I wasn’t that bad, was I? I know this wasn’t really my style, but they’re really stingy with the keys around here.” And Kabuto laughed, blinking back the drops that threatened to spill over his own waterline. He wasn’t ever one to cry and he’d be damned if he looked like anything less than a hero during your rescue. You snickered with him and clenched your eyes shut, further staining your cheeks. The side of your face melted into his palm and Kabuto leaned his forehead against yours.

“You came back for me,” You breathed, inhaling his familiar scent. He smelled like the village, something akin to mornings in the forest. “H-h-how, how did you? What did, did you?” You could hardly find the words. Kabuto grasped your hand.

“Doesn’t matter.” He breathed in. He wasn’t too late.

***

Konoha, despite its strength, was in many ways a dated nation. The alarm bells didn’t even begin to ring until you and Kabuto were half way across town. You had to hurry. Leaf shinobi acted quickly and every second a new set of peering eyes were being awakened from their beds.

You followed Kabuto closely. You didn’t get to ask any questions, you didn’t have time. All that you knew for sure is that Kabuto, once again, came to your rescue. What that meant, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to question it.

Kabuto stopped in front of you and knelt down.

“You go ahead.” You became very aware of the bags under your eyes and the bolt of adrenaline in your veins. He began to unpack a few items from his equipment, attaching paper bombs to kunai and preparing traps that you couldn’t process properly in your tired haze.

“What are you going to do?” The corners of Kabuto’s lips tugged into a sly grin. He took a bit too much pleasure in moments like these. Nimble fingers pulled knots tightly. By the time he rose back up again, he could’ve easily been mistaken for a walking arsonal.

“Buy us a little more time… and little insurance,” he said, not even bothering to hide the glee in his eyes, “It’s a straight shot from here. You know where to meet me. Wait for me there.” As he turned away you grasped onto his sleeve.

“Wait,” You gulped, casting your eyes downward with hot cheeks. Kabuto let out an amused scoff before leaning to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“As much as I appreciate the concern, we’re getting low on time, dear.” He dragged a finger across the outline of your ear, tucking a few strands on hair back. “I’ve got this handled. Go, I’ll be there before you even know I’m gone.”

And with one last squeeze of his wrist, he went. You let out a shaky breath before facing the opposite direction. You had started to build up some nerve a while ago. It was recent, but nonetheless you’ve started… so you supposed you shouldn’t stop now. Jumping from your place, you began running across the rooftops. Your eyes locked onto the forest. You sped to your top speed, darting into the woods. Free. The branches and leaves blurred together as you continued on. You took a sharp inhale. You knew that you wouldn’t be back here anytime soon.

You ran until the exhaustion caught up with you. Your back felt drenched with sweat, you stopped at a small clearing among the trees. Leaning up against the bark, you forced air into your lungs in an attempt to sate the burning within them. Your head pounded as fatigue gripped your muscles. The meeting spot wasn’t too far ahead. An often overlooked piece of the forest, you were sure that no one would find you here.

A rustling came from nearby.

“You know, when you said that you’d be back before I knew you were gone I didn’t think you’d be back that…” You trailed off. The man that stood in front of you was not Kabuto, but Iruka. He wore half civilian clothes. The scar on his face and his hitai-ate were the only articles that could have truly signified that he was a shinobi. His determined eyes met yours unyieldingly as he panted from his travel. You were in no shape to fight him. “How did you find me?”

“You’re leaving,” he noted, exasperated. His eyes were opened slightly wider than usual. Perhaps even he didn’t know what he was seeing. The trees rustled above you. Quiet overtook the landscape. It was only you and Iruka. “This was the only direction you could have taken and not have gotten caught. Direct path from the compound...”

“Yeah,” You answered, heart beating rapidly in your chest. “I…” Your features softened. Your shoulders slumped and you let out a heavy sigh. Iruka remained silent. “You know I can’t stay here. I-I can’t just stay locked up like that.” He hung his head, arms coming to cross in front of his chest. He nodded, bobbing his head a few times. Iruka’s hand came to run through his hair.

“I… I know.” He pursed his lips, stammering over his words. “You didn’t, uh…”

“I didn’t kill anyone.” You defended yourself quickly. A shiver worked its way down your spine. “Anyone else I should say.” You mirrored him and crossed your arms.

A pause. Iruka could have taken you in, but something told you that he wasn’t going to.

“I’m sorry for not having more faith in you. I’m sorry if I could have done something to prevent all of this.” The honesty in his admission shot straight to your heart. You weren’t leaving behind a lot that you would miss in the Leaf, but Iruka was most definitely one of them.

“This was inevitable. You… thought what anyone would think. I can’t blame you for that.” You gestured to yourself. “I’m sorry for what I said and I just want you to know that I’ve always appreciated our friendship.”

“No,” Iruka waved a hand before it returned back to the crook of his elbow. “I—”

“Why don’t you tell me next time?” Iruka’s gaze snapped up to meet yours. You shrugged with a smile. “There’s a lot to talk about. A lot to apologize for. Let’s just… save it for the next time we see each other. Because you’re not losing me for good. We’ll just… catch up a lot later than we meant to.” Iruka’s expression melted into something resembling sentiment.

“Yeah. For sure. We’ll catch up later.” You approached him and you enveloped each other in a sweaty hug. You took him in, the last of your life in Konohagakure. He rested his chin on your head. “He better treat you right.”

“He will. He does. You don’t have to worry about that.” You parted, Iruka’s hands remained on your shoulders. A rustling came from behind you and both of you turned to look as Kabuto appeared at the other end of the small clearing. He had two bags slung over his shoulders. He gave a respectful nod towards Iruka who gave a small wave back.

“Umino Iruka, nice seeing you again.” Iruka pointed a finger towards the rogue ninja with playfulness in his voice.

“You, sir, are a menace to spies everywhere.” Kabuto cracked a smile with a snort.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

And with one last contrite look, you and Iruka parted ways. He jumped out into the wilderness and you turned to Kabuto. Leaflitter crunched under your feet as you made your way over. You wrapped your arms around him. He murmured a few sweet words into your ear and your lips brushed against his cheek.

“So where are we going?” You asked as you took one of the bags with the assumption that it was for you.

“Wherever you’d like to go.” Kabuto’s fingers laced between yours. “I don’t know. I don’t have a plan from here if you’d believe that, my dear.” You gave his hand a squeeze.

“Perfect.”

Notes: Does anyone else smell a sequel series ‘cause, uh, I left things very open for a reason? Like any finale I’d love to hear what you have to say!

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#Kabuto Yakushi x reader #kabuto x reader #kabuto yakushi #kabuto #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto #x you #x reader #reader insert

105 notes · View notes

andypantsx3 · 4 years

Text

war paint | 2 | rumors

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters

summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)

tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut

The city was nothing like you’d expected it to be.

You’d known of course, that it would be filled with people. You’d grown up only a day’s journey south of the capital - you had seen the caravans of merchants that passed close to your family farm almost weekly, the stream of soldiers that poured endlessly out from the city walls to spread out across the countryside.

But still none of that prepared you. It was loud, louder than almost anything you’d ever heard. Thousands upon thousands of people clamored almost on top of one another, running this way and that, chatting and yelling and selling everything under the sun.

You followed the main road through the city gates, carrying you deeper into the city. The castle stood on a high ledge overlooking the city, and the main road eventually wound into looping switchbacks leading up the steep climb.

It was hell after your long walk all the way to the city, made even more so by the tight fabric you’d eventually thought to wind around your chest under your shirt, but you endured it, eager to be done. The sooner you reached the top, the sooner you could speak to a castle guard about enlistment.

At the top, you found a small troop of soldiers guarding a portcullis signaling the entrance to castle grounds.

“Excuse me,” you greeted a guard, “where would I find the enlistment offices?”

He stared down at you. “A little small to be joining the kingsguard, aren’t you?”

You bristled. “I wasn’t aware that the army turned away able men.”

An eyebrow went up. “Able men, no. Able boys, though, are another thing. Are you sure you’re old enough?”

You stared at him in question, then realized what you must look like to him. Though nearly a spinster as a woman, as a man you must look almost like a child, short and fresh-faced and soft-voiced.

“I’ve had sixteen summers, though I may not look it,” you said, pressing up on your heels. You doubted he would believe you any older, considering how quickly boys grew after that age.

“You certainly don’t look it, no,” he chuckled. He gestured to his left, indicating a small building tucked into the outcropping of castle walls. “Office is over there, we’ll see if they believe you.”

You thanked him, pushing down your annoyance, and followed his direction to the building. The door was already open, and just inside sat what must have been the kingdom’s most harried looking clerk, scribbling away over scrolls of parchment, his shirt and hair rumpled as if he’d had no rest for days.

“Excuse me, sir,” you started, but he cut you off with a long, gusty sigh.

“No, he does not have two heads, nor is he in possession of claws or fangs. He is human by all accounts, was born here in the capital, and as far as I’m aware no winds from hell have ever blown through the city.”

You stared at him. “What?”

The clerk heaved another put upon sigh and looked up at you. “You’re here about Captain Bakugou, are you not? You boys always want the same thing.”

You felt your eyebrows go up. “Captain...who?”

The clerk blinked. “You haven’t heard of Captain Bakugou?”

You looked at him blankly. “Should I know who that is?”

He shuffled his papers meaningfully. “Why are you here then, boy, if not to ask about our Lord Captain?”

You leaned forward eagerly. “I’m here to join the kingsguard, sir.”

He looked you up and down skeptically. “You must be of age to join the kingsguard.”

“I am!” you said feelingly. You hadn’t anticipated this much trouble about your age when you’d planned this. You couldn’t let him stop you from joining the guard; you needed that initial fee to send back to your family quickly. “How can I prove it, sir?”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Have you any papers?”

You shook your head. “I’m from the country, sir. A farm. We don’t have any papers there.”

His mouth twisted. “What’s your name?”

“L/N,” you said. “My family name, sir.”

“And how old are you, L/N?” he asked.

“Just sixteen last summer,” you said.

He sighed. “I suppose you could be. And you mean to join the kingsguard, do you?”

You nodded.

He rustled around on his desk, digging through his papers before thrusting a half hand of parchment at you. It was covered with cramped lines in a dark ink, with a small space left open towards the bottom.

“This is your contract,” he said, “can you read or do you need me to read it to you?”

You took it from him. “I can read, sir.”

You scanned the paper quickly, eyes darting over the terms outlining your pay, your meals, and your housing. You picked out phrases like one year and a day, the length of your contract, and the concerning phrase in the service of Katsuki Bakugou, Captain of the Guard and Lord of Musutafu.

“You said this, um, Captain Bakugou...people think he has two heads?” you asked hesitantly.

The clerk waved a hand. “A rumor, nothing more.”

You wondered at that, why a man -- a nobleman at that, if the title of lord was any indication -- would stand accused of possessing an extra head, and from the sound of it, a set of fangs and claws. Was he horrifically ugly? You supposed it mattered not, if he were a good captain.

“Um, I sign here?” you asked, indicating the blank space at the bottom.

The clerk nodded and handed you his quill. You copied out your name in a messy hand, obscuring your first name in a riot of loose loops, and handed the parchment back to him. He looked it over and nodded, handing over a small seal in its place.

“This will get you inside castle grounds. You’re to head straight for the barracks to the east of the palace proper.”

You nodded, and stepped back out into the waning sunlight, following his direction back to the castle entrance. The dark haired guard who you’d spoken to smiled at your approach.

“Looks like we’ll be serving with each other after all, then?” he asked.

You nodded.

He held out a hand, “I’m Hanta Sero.”

“L/N,” you said, taking his hand and shaking it.

Sero gestured you inside the palace grounds, and you set off towards the east, following a wide cobblestone path towards a series of buildings set into the long shadow the castle cast at sunset. Your bindings itched now more than ever, and you looked forward to finding somewhere to sit, eager to get off your feet after a full day’s journey.

As you arrived at the front of the barracks, you were greeted by another soldier. He looked about your age, with large unruly spikes of yellow-blonde hair and friendly features, and he seemed to perk up considerably as you approached.

“I was wondering if we’d get anyone new today!” he said, smiling. “Welcome to the kingsguard!”

You raised a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m L/N.”

“Denki Kaminari,” he replied, gesturing for you to follow him. “You’re lucky you got here when you did! They just rang the bell for dinner.”

He led you into one of the buildings, down a long corridor that emerged into an enormous mess hall set with high ceilings and studded with dozens of tables and low benches. The din of many voices crashed over you, and you gaped at the hundreds of soldiers spread out across the room, chattering in clusters of brilliant red uniforms. A line snaked around the corner of the room, men of every stature tapping their feet impatiently as the queued up to receive their rations.

You were suddenly struck by what it meant to be here. These hundreds of men, you would be living among them, dining with them, sleeping beside them, training and fighting with them. You would need to remain in disguise for a year and a day, need to hide while you bathed, while you changed, while you bled. The thought was incredibly overwhelming.

“So where you from?” Kaminari said conversationally as you joined the line behind a pair of men chatting in low tones.

“Only about a day south of here,” you said, waving a hand. “It’s a small farm village, I doubt you’d know it. You?”

Kaminari grinned. “Born and raised in the capital! I’m a city boy through and through.”

You laughed. “Have you ever been outside of it?”

He shook his blonde head. “Only for the rare training and once on exchange with the city watch -- Captain Bakugou sometimes loans us out to Commander Iida. Last time, Iida made my troop do a perimeter walk around the city.”

“Commander Iida?” you asked.

Kaminari nodded. “Another of the nobles who took a military position, like Captain Bakugou. He’s much nicer, though. Strict, but he hardly breathes fire like our dear captain.”

You could feel your eyebrows lift. “Breathes fire?”

Kaminari laughed. “Well, he doesn’t breathe it. He mostly just yells his head off. Oh, but he can make stuff explode if he gets really into it. He’s got some amount of magic, like Prince Shouto.”

You nodded. Magic was rare, but not unheard of. One girl in your home village had been born with the ability to turn anything smaller than a cat into dust. The other kids had kept their distance from her, until she’d grown up quite beautiful. Last you’d heard, she was married to the village headman’s son and had a little girl of her own.

“The registration clerk seemed to have much to say about the captain,” you said. “Why are there so many rumors about him?”

The line moved forward as you spoke, and you followed. Your ankle rolled underneath you and you stumbled, colliding hard with the back of one of the men in front of you.

“Oh,” you said, backing up a step. “My apologies.”

The two men turned to you, the one you’d run into eyeing you angrily. “Watch it, pipsqueak.”

You frowned up at him, eyebrows drawing together. “Hey, I said I’m sorry. No need for that.”

Kaminari made a concerned noise beside you, but you paid him no mind as the man drew himself up in front of you. He was dark haired and blue-eyed, with the kind of manner that might have suggested he’d never seen a hard day in his life had the sudden spark of violence in his eye not told a different story.

“What’d you say, you little baby bitch?” he ground out.

Your hand balled into a fist, but Kaminari put a placating hand out in front of you. “Nishimura, it was an accident. No need to fight!”

Nishimura growled. “This little fuck thinks he can tell me what to do. I’ll teach him his place.”

What the hell was this man’s problem? Suddenly, it felt like all your emotions were welling up inside of you. Your exhaustion from walking all day, your frustration with your father, your anxiety at being trapped with these men for more than a year, all of it roiled inside you like the churning waves of an angry sea. The words bubbled up before you could stop them.

“Try it, asshole.”

Nishimura lunged, and he was on you before you could blink. The next thing you registered, the two of you were rolling across the floor, scrabbling at each other like starving animals. His fist caught you in your side and you grunted, hooking a foot into his stomach and forcing him off of you. You scrambled to your feet and backed away, knocking roughly into one of the low tables.

You’d never fought with anyone before, and if this is what it was like, you never wanted to again. Your heart beat frantically in your throat, every fiber in your body snapped to attention. You felt scared, threatened, and so apprehensive you might be sick.

Nishimura, however, did not seem to have the same reservations. He rolled to his feet and lunged for you again, catching you around the waist and bringing you to the floor. His fist drove into your stomach, knocking the wind from you. Frantic, and struggling to breathe, you curled your own fist, catching him in the side of the jaw.

He’d just managed to hit you in the stomach again when there was a blinding flash and a deafening crack like thunder split the mess hall. Nishimura’s eyes widened and he swore, pushing himself off of you as fast as he’d dove for you.

You coughed, curling an arm around your stomach, desperately attempting to take in air.

“What the fuck is going on?” a rough voice growled from behind you. Nishimura stepped back from you, stumbling.

“He attacked me, sir,” Nishimura said, his pupils dilating in something that looked like fear. Behind him, the friend he’d been talking with nodded, though his eyes remained fixed, unblinking, on someone behind you.

“Bullshit,” you gasped out, “you tackled me.”

Nishmura’s eyes darted back to you, but only for a second. You rolled to your knees, turning to look up at whoever he’d been addressing, only to freeze under a blood-red gaze.

Suddenly, all the talk of rumors finally became clear.

Though he had no fangs or claws or an extra head, there was no question who the man in front of you was. Captain Katsuki Bakugou was tall, powerfully built, with ash blonde hair, and a handsome face that could have been carved from stone. He stood at the entrance of the mess hall, looking as though he’d just returned from somewhere, dressed in a dark traveling cloak that mostly obscured the red uniform shirt of the palace guard. Power seemed to pour from him in angry waves, and the hard expression that twisted his features was enough to quicken your heartbeat.

“I don’t give a shit who started it,” Bakugou snarled. “I don’t need soldiers who roll around on the floor like squabbling fucking toddlers.”

Indignation washed through you and you opened your mouth to retort, but Bakugou rounded on you.

“You gonna talk back to me, pretty boy?” he demanded. “Say one damn word and I’ll fucking cook you in your skin.”

A volley of sparks lit off from his palm, and your mouth clicked shut.

He sneered at you before his crimson gaze flicked back to Nishimura. “And you, acting like you weren’t the one winning the damn fight.” He growled. “Both of you, one month of extra training. And if I see you so much as breathe in each other’s direction again, I’ll kill you.”

Your blood pounded in your ears as you nodded. Nishimura was similarly cowed, staring at his feet.

Bakugou’s eyes searched over every face in the room. “That goes for the rest of you. Now dinner’s over. Back to your rooms.”

There was a rustle of indignant shuffling behind you, but no one dared disagree with him. Looking satisfied, Bakugou turned on his heel, pinning you with one last hard look, before sweeping from the room. His boots echoed in the hall, easily audible over the stunned silence of the men around you.

You closed your eyes, the pain from your bruises and the gnaw of your empty stomach finally washing over you.

Fuck. This was not how you’d wanted to start your enlistment.

#bakugou x reader #fanfic #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki

287 notes · View notes

songbirdsingingthings · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: The Social Season Begins

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is my first multiple chapter fic! I was heavily inspired by Netflix’s Bridgerton, but I do not intend to stick to its script. The show and the fic are meant to be seat during the early 19th century (1810 -1830) so a lot of things like technology will not be present. Also, this is a quirkless au so no one is going to posses any powers. I plan for this fic to be between 8 and 12 chapters, but we’ll see as we go along. I hope you all enjoy <3!

Next Chapter ~ Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9K

When social season rolled around, all bets were off. The most vicious of claws and fangs were disguised by beautiful dresses and headpieces, followed by the batting of eyelashes and the oh so precarious movements of feathered fans. It happened every year - hundreds of Musutafu’s young ladies braved the social scene in the pursuit of a husband either of their own status or higher. This year was no exception, in fact, it was shaping up to be one of the most influential seasons to date. Several of the most eligible and prestigious lords, viscounts, and barons would be attending the numerous balls that were in the works. While it was expected of the young women to pair up and find a love-match, such relationships always proved to be half-successful. Of course they would be married and well taken care of, but too often did you hear of wives maintaining an empty manor whilst their husbands were off gallivanting at their clubs, or more likely, at brothels. This proved to be your biggest fear - you wanted the beautiful relationship your parents had. The one where your father doted on your mother, bringing her flowers on random days because he happened to see them and think of her. One where he dutifully raised their children together, never once undermining her abilities due to her gender. And one where, right up until her very last breath, he held her hand and whispered sweet nothings to her. It was a sorrowful day when your mother died, but your father carried on in her place, raising you and your elder brother in the most proper and loving way he could. This encouraged you to go forth with your head held high. You would find the one you were meant to be with and not just be a part of a silly little love-match.

“Oh Lady Yagi, you look absolutely wonderful.” With a deep breath you met your eyes in the mirror in front of you and let out a little gasp. The dress you were wearing was utterly gorgeous. It was a very pale blue, even lighter than the powder blue that covered your bedroom walls, and had the most beautiful little detailed flowers scattered across it. There weren’t enough to mistake you with a garden, but there were plenty there to compare you to the most gorgeous dogwood. The necklace that lay across your neck was much daintier than what others tended to wear but you adored it - after all, it was your mother’s. And resting softly on your head was a matching tiara with both diamonds and light blue sapphires.

“My, Mei, you have simply outdone yourself.” You whisper. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of your reflection, the twinkles and glimmers of the jewels doing wonders to accentuate your features.

“Lady Yagi, how you make me swoon,” Mei exclaims, feigning a faint. You giggle at her and swat her gently with your fan. The two of you make small talk as she adds finishing details to your look; smoothing out hairs here and there, clipping in your diamond earrings, and slipping your silk gloves onto your hands.

“Y/N, my sister, we must be heading off!” A call echoed from just outside your room, coming from the main hall downstairs.

“And not a moment too soon, my nerves have been getting the best of me.” You say, a wide smile covering your face. You descended upon the grand staircase to see both your father and your elder brother waiting for you.

“My word! Y/N, my darling, you look divine!” Your father exclaimed, walking forward to place a ghost kiss to your cheek, not daring to mess up Mei’s handiwork. You smiled at your father and looked at your brother.

“Izuku, you look quite dashing.” You tell him, earning a grin from his freckled face. “Hoping to see Lady Uraraka this evening?” A blush quickly covered his face.

“Well, yes, she had told me she would be attending earlier when we took a promenade around- hold on, this is your special evening we need to be discussing.” Izuku says, switching the topic onto you. Rolling your eyes playfully, you took his arm as the three of you made your way into the horse-drawn carriage waiting for you in front of your house. The three of you entered, your father and brother careful of your long dress, and then you were off.

“So my dear, are you excited? Nervous?” Your father asks. You smile and inspect your gloved hands.

“Both. I just wish…” you trail off. Your father leans down to meet your gaze with slight concern in his eyes.

“Wish what?” He says, urging you to continue. A small sigh escapes your mouth as you look back up.

“Father, you have done wonderfully to raise both Izuku and I without Mother here. I think both of us agree on that fact.” You begin. Izuku nods and offers the both of you a grin. “I just wish that she was here. To tell me of what she was feeling when she debuted, how she calmed the churning in her stomach.” You confess, your hands now clenched. You were met with a sad smile from your father.

“How I wish for that as well, my dear. She would always tell me how excited she was for you to embark on your own marital journey. And, while I in no means shared the same experience as she did, I can tell you of what I was feeling.” He says. You look up, curiosity flashing in your eyes.

“Please,” you say, prompting him to tell you. He laughs and leans back on the leather seated cushion.

“Well I, like your brother, had an easy time finding the women we would want to spend the rest of our lives with.” Your father’s sentence earned a blush from Izuku, but no words of contention. I suppose we will be welcoming Lady Uraraka to our family soon, you thought smiling to yourself. “I was a nervous wreck, though, when my eyes found your mother. She was absolutely divine - like the gods had graced the earth specifically with her. She was quick to forgive my nerves and the slight stutter in my voice as I introduced myself to her, and things just seemed to run its own course from there.” You could see the wistful gaze in your father’s eyes as he thought of your mother. “Inko was a most gracious woman, both in mind and beauty. And those qualities, my dear, were passed on to you.” His hand came to cradle your cheek, brushing away the tears that started to well in your eyes. “But this is no time to be in despair, no, it is time to be quite the opposite than that. It’s time for you to find love.”

The carriage stopped rather abruptly, but you didn’t care. You gathered the train of your dress in your hand and were practically buzzing by the time the footmen opened the door. Your father stepped out first followed by Izuku, the latter of which offered a hand to you as you stepped out. The venue was absolutely gorgeous, and it was no surprise considering the man hosting it. Lord Takami was a rather benevolent and expressive man and those traits bled right into his events. With lanterns dotted all over the front steps and the ballroom, candles that seemed to float in midair, and the most magnificent smelling floral arrangements you had ever seen, you understood perfectly - this was what it must’ve felt like for your mother. Out of the corner of your eye, a pretty brunette started to drift towards you and your family, a bashful smile set across her face. Before you had a chance to speak, Izuku stepped in front of you and your father.

“Lady Uraraka, what a pleasure to see you here.” Your brother says, his hand extending to her gloved one.

“It’s truly all mine, My Lord.” She responds as a shy smile flickers across her face. Izuku spares you and your father a nod and a grin before he leads Lady Uraraka towards the middle of the floor, the two melting into the dance being performed seamlessly.

“Those two make such a divine and true love-match, don’t you agree Father?” You gush. Just seeing your brother so hopelessly in love was enough to make your heart flutter.

“I do, my dear,” he chuckles upon seeing your expression, “but we are not here to solely admire them. There will be plenty of time to do that at their wedding,” your father quips, earning a laugh from you. “Let’s get you introduced and dancing, hmm?” Your evening was full of re-introducing yourself to mutual acquaintances and establishing new ones in other young men. You made sure to only dance with those you felt could be a possible match for you, but as time went on you started to lose hope. It’s not that the men were horrid by any means - well, with the exception of one Lord Mineta - but nothing about them seemed to stir your heart. You currently found yourself in a most dull conversation with Baron Ojirou.

“Forgive me, Lord Ojirou, I must get some air. All of this dancing has made me quite light-headed,” you say, excusing yourself.

“Oh! Would you like me to accompany you, Lady Yagi?” He asks nicely. You raise your hand in denial but give him a light smile.

“There is no need. I wouldn’t want to impose on your evening, I will just be a few moments.” You say, slipping away to the outdoor gardens. It was dark, but the luminescence coming from inside Lord Takami’s manor provided enough light so that you could see. You made your way over to the stone railings that bordered the rose garden and held onto it with both of your gloved hands, heaving a sigh. “My goodness…” you whisper, heaving a sigh. The night air nipped a bit at your skin but you paid no mind to it. What does catch your attention, though, was the light footsteps that were approaching you from behind. “Lord Ojirou, as I said before, there is no need-” You begin, but stop immediately when you are met with someone else. He was much different than the man you had just been recently talking to - physically more reserved, taller, and much much handsomer. Even with the scar covering the left side of his face, his presence was enough to make a woman swoon. “Forgive me.” you manage, curtsying a bit.

“Oh, no, it is I who should be apologizing. Pardon my interruption on your… outing.” He says awkwardly. This earns a slight giggle from you.

“This was merely a simple break from the clamor inside.” you say, relaxing a bit more. Before the man could say another word, you see Izuku catch your eye from the steps.

“Y/N! There you are, Father and I have been looking everywhere- Shouto?” Your brother says shocked, his eyes meeting the man across from you.

“Izuku?” He responds, bewilderment flickering across his face.

“My word, it’s been a while! How as your father, the Duke of Endeavor, faring these days?”

“D-Duke?” You stutter out, in awe of the man’s title. Izuku catches your confusion and gives you a smile.

“Forgive me for not introducing you! Todoroki, this is me dear sister, Y/N.” The man, now known to you as Shouto Todoroki, gave you a quick nod. “Y/N, this is Shouto Todoroki. The son of the Duke.”

89 notes · View notes

wwitbeyondmeasure · 4 years

Text

Summer at the Burrow / r.w. fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ron’s Return / Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations / Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise / Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match / Chapter 7: Girl Talk / Chapter 8: Aphrodite’s Push / Chapter 9: Mistakes and Love Potions

Chapter 10: You Would be Fine

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the love and support for this fic, it means so much to me :) Get prepared because this chapter is a lengthy one (about 4,200 words I think...oops). Also, the gif has nothing to do with the chapter I just thought Ron looked really cute lol. Okay anyways enjoy!!!

You were fine. Really you were.

Every time Hermione or Ginny gave you a concerned look while passing, you could easily plaster on an "I'm-good-everything-is-good-thanks-for-asking" smile onto your face.

In reality though, your heart hurt ever damn day.

About 2 weeks ago, Ron broke your heart. Under the oak tree outside, he told you that whatever happened between you was a mistake. Mistake. So instead of moping around for the rest of your summer vacation, you tried to be happy. During the day time you would laugh and joke with the Weasleys, help make meals, finish your school work, and do chores. But at night is when you finally let yourself feel your heartbreak. Once everyone fell asleep, you would creep down the stairs and sit underneath the oak tree, and cry.

It was therapeutic, kind of. With each passing night, you felt better. Yes, it still hurt seeing Ron's freckled face every morning at breakfast. And it still made your skin and body ache when he accidentally brushed up next to you in the tight kitchen. But you were okay.

You knew that if you let Ron fully see how heartbroken you were, it would change the dynamic between you. You were best friends, and nothing more. No matter how much you loved him, that's all you would ever be. Instead of jeopardizing the friendship you had come to cherish so greatly, you simply suppressed your love for Ron so you could maintain it. And it was working, king of.

The night after your heartbreak at the oak tree, you started treating Ron exactly as you had before you came to the Burrow, before you had let your emotions run wild. He reciprocated this and before long, you were best friends again. You played Quidditch on each other's team, joked around with Fred and George, tried the newest Weasley Wizard Wheezes products (though you stayed away from the love potions), and played wizard's chess together. Although your heart still skipped a beat whenever Ron leaned closer to you, everything was back to normal with your best friend.

Over the past 2 weeks, you had been alternating between sleeping in Ginny's room for sleepovers, the bed in the attic, or the couch in the living room. Ron didn't offer his room to you again, which made you sad but you understood. If you were alone with him late at night when your emotions were high, your cover of "nope-i-don't-love-him-we-are-just-best-friends" was going out the window. So you stuck to your usual 3 beds.

That morning, you had awoken from the attic bed bright and early. Hermione had been getting the girls up at 8am for the past 2 weeks so that you could finish your school work early in the morning and have the rest of the day to relax. Although you hated her every morning for this, you were glad she had such a strict regimen because you had all finished your homework yesterday. Now, for the rest of the summer you were homework free.

By now you were so used to waking up early that it was no longer a surprise for anyone to see you help cook breakfast with Mrs Weasley. Besides Hermione, you two were usually the first awake and in the kitchen right away. This morning was no different as you padded down the creaky wooden steps into the kitchen.

"Good morning Mrs Weasley," you greeted her, tying an apron around your waist. There were four aprons in the Weasley house; a floral one designated for Mrs Weasley, a dark blue one for Mr Weasley when he would attempt to use a muggle grill, a plain white one for whoever decided to help cook, and a yellow one with stars for you. Mrs Weasley even spelled your name, y/n, on the edge in elegant cursive.

"For my newest child," she has said when she showed it to you. She pinched your cheeks, the way she did with all of her kids, and the action almost made you tear up. You threw your arms around her in a tight hug and thanked her profusely.

Mrs Weasley smiled approvingly at you as you started on the breakfast. As the usual morning rhythm took place, you cherished the routine of cracking the eggs, putting them in pans, flipping them, and then doing the same thing again and again.

But soon, Mrs Weasley's voice broke the silence. "Sweetheart, what happened with Ron?" she asked.

Your head snapped up from the frying pan, your eyes meeting Mrs Weasley's. She looked at you with motherly concern, and for some reason you couldn't look at her loving face and lie to her.

"I don't think he feels the same way that I do about him," you stated, turning your attention back to cooking.

Mrs Weasley huffed. "Well, my son has never been the sharpest boy, as you know," she said. You giggled, though you were still sad, and she smiled at you. "Maybe things will change honey," she told you, "love happens unexpectedly."

Before you got the chance to reply, thundering footsteps sounded from the staircase. You whipped your head around to see the twins barreling down the steps, practically tripping over one another in their hurry.

"Where's the fire?" you asked.

Fred ran across the room, picked you up around the waist, and spun you around.

"Percy's home! His work is called off for the week because of his birthday!" He shouted excitedly. You laughed, swatting at him with your spatula until he set you down.

"I didn't know you two were so excited to see your brother," Mrs Weasley noted, fixing her sons with a stern and skeptical stare.

"Oh mother, we're not," George replied.

"We're excited to mess with him for a week straight," Fred added with the largest grin you had ever seen.

As soon as the words left his mouth, more of a promise than anything else, the front door swung open and in entered the most prestigious Weasley of the house. With his rigorous work schedule, you hadn't seen Percy once this entire summer. But now, here he was, standing in the kitchen in a three piece suit with a pocket watch and shiny black shoes at 8 in the morning.

"Hi Percy," you said, trying your best not to laugh at the long tail of his suit coat.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Fred asked, his face shocked as he took in Percy's outfit. George's face was bright red as he held in his laughter.

"This," Percy said, unironically spinning so everyone could see his outfit, "Is traditional Muggle-wear. As I climb higher in the Ministry's success ladder, sometimes I have to encounter Muggles, so I must dress accordingly. This particular suit was a gift from one of my many clients."

He turned to you and you tried to wipe the teasing smile off your face. "Y/n, this is what muggles wear to their jobs, isn't it?" he asked.

You schooled your features into seriousness. "Oh yes," you responded, "definitely."

At that moment, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione stumbled down the stairs, looking like they had just woken up. Everyone stayed up late last night playing nighttime Quidditch (an especially difficult yet fun game considering the fact that you can't see the bludgers because of how dark it is).

Ron froze when he saw Percy standing in the kitchen, his shoes so shiny they were reflecting the kitchen lights into the eyes of anyone who looked at them.

"Bloody hell, what happened to your clothes?" he asked incredulously. Him and Harry shared a look and then burst out in laughter.

Percy's ears turned pink at the tips as he huffed before sitting down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table. You and Mrs Weasley decorated the center of the table with plate after plate of delicious warm breakfast food. Proud of your hard work, you took off your apron and sat down next to Percy.

Ron sat down next to you as the others joined the table.

"For your information, Ronald, your girlfriend says my clothes are the proper Muggle attire," Percy said, glaring at his little brother.

"She's not my girlfriend," Ron responded, his ears turning pink now too.

"How's Penelope?" you asked Percy before you could let yourself get too caught up in the fact that you really wanted Ron's response to that question to be different.

Percy smiled at the mention of his longtime girlfriend, who had been a Prefect at Hogwarts with him. "Oh she's fantastic," Percy said before launching into a long-winded story about Penelope's latest project she was working on at the ministry. Words such as "top-secret" "highly important" and "imperative job" floated past your ears.

Ron leaned closer to you and mumbled in your ear, "I wish you hadn't asked him that."

"Me too," you whispered back, giggling behind your hand.

As breakfast began, you were proud of all the compliments you received on your cooking. Waking up early to cook with Mrs Weasley was a part of the day you always looked forward too, and the compliments only made you feel better about it.

After everyone finished eating, and cleared their plates, chairs scraped against the wood of the floor as everyone prepared to go about their daily business.

"Wait!" Percy shouting, using his wand to spell everyone back into their chairs. "Nobody leave this table until we discuss my birthday party details."

Theses past few weeks your brain had been so focused on Ron that you had forgotten Percy's huge birthday party that was taking place at the Burrow next week. From the guilty expressions of everyone else around the table, you could tell they had forgotten too.

"I want this party to be perfect," Percy said. "My bosses are coming to this party, as is Penelope, so I will not tolerate any shenanigans." He fixed his eyes on the twins and gave them an icy glare. "I mean it, no funny business."

Fred and George saluted him, shouting "yes mother" before jumping out of their chairs and running to their room. A memory flashed in your head from the beginning of summer. The twins were showing you fireworks in their room, "special fireworks for Percy's party" they had said. There was definitely going to be some shenanigans taking place.

Increasingly interested about what kind of pranks the twins were going to pull on Percy, you excused yourself from the table and followed them upstairs. You were about to knock on their door before it swung open and Fred dragged you inside.

"Can I have a sneak peek?" you asked them giddily as soon as the door closed behind you. Apart from the twins, you were the most excited about their funny products and pranks they always pulled. You knew Percy's party wasn't going to disappoint.

Instead of reciprocating your excitement, the twins traded nervous glances.

"What is it?" you asked them. You felt a strange sense of deja vu to the time when they picked you up to drive you to the Burrow in the beginning of summer. They were hiding something from you then, and they were certainly hiding something from you now.

"So we take it you're not going to tell Ron about your unconditional love for him anytime soon?" George asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish expression on his face. Fred was ringing his hands nervously next to him.

"That is correct," you responded flatly.

"Well, you see," Fred began, "When we ordered these special fireworks for Percy's party, we assumed you two would be dating and in love by the time of the party. And the thing is, there's no refunds on the fireworks, so we kind of have to use them." He spoke so fast that the words were tumbling together in your head.

"Okay...what does that mean? What do the fireworks have to do with Ron and I?" you asked, getting increasingly more upset by the moment.

The twins must have sensed your anger because they traded a quick glance before assuring you "Okay, never mind, love, everything is under control," Fred promised.

"Yep, totally under control," George said, steering you out of the room. You didn't even register what they were saying before you were standing in the hallway.

"What aren't you telling me?" you asked, eyes narrowing into a glare at the twins.

They both gulped nervously.

"Don't worry about it, y/n, everything is fine. Percy's party will be full of lots of laughs and fun," Fred promised, before promptly shutting the door in your face. Once again, you got deja vu.

And with that, you left the twins room, feeling even more confused about your relationship with Ron than ever.

...

The next week was frantic, hectic, and insane as you all scrambled to prepare for Percy's big party. Decorations needed to be made, food needed to be cooked, and you totally forgot to get Percy a present. After a day trip to Diagon Alley, you had returned home with a bag of more owl food for Dite and a magical watch for Percy. Despite all of the high energy and excitement in the house, the twins words still weighed on you. The party was quickly approaching and you had yet to "confess your unconditional love" to Ron. What would happen if you didn't? You didn't even want to think about it.

It was the night before Percy's party, and you were in the garden helping Bill string up lights around the outdoor tables. You and Bill had been spending a lot more time together over the past week. Bill had always opted to help you in whatever decoration or cooking you were tasked with for that day. Although you could tell that made Ron grumpy, you tried to ignore it. Your feelings were confusing enough without trying to unpack Ron's jealousy at the moment.

You wobbled on the chair you were standing on as you tied the last string of lights around the nearest tree branch. After you finished, you put your hands on your hips and took a look around the garden. It looked amazing. 10 tables were arranged in a neat circle around the yard, completed with white table clothes and centerpieces with Percy's photo in the middle. You bought a couple packs of muggle Christmas lights to hang from the trees to illuminate the area, which Mr Weasley was very happy about. He spent about 2 hours asking you about the mechanics behind muggle electricity.

There was a long table for the buffet to be served at and a short circular table for Percy's gifts to be placed on. At the corner of the garden the twins had set up a firing booth for the fireworks. To be totally honest, the decoration fit more for a wedding than a birthday party, but Percy wanted things to be perfect, so the family followed his decoration ideas to a tee.

While being distracted by observing your handiwork, you weren't really paying attention to what was happening behind you. This was unfortunate because Harry and Ron were practicing disarming charms right behind you.

"Y/n, look out!" you heard someone yell behind you. Whipping around towards the voice, you saw a red ball of sparks sailing towards you from the end of Harry's wand. How did Harry always manage to accidentally attack you?

You dove from your chair to avoid the sparks, and were fully expecting to land roughy in the grass. Instead, you felt strong arms wrap around you to prevent you from hitting the ground. You looked up to see none other than Bill Weasley as your knight in shining armour.

"Thanks," you said quietly.

Bill didn't let his arms drop from around you.

"Anytime," he replied with a grin. His arms were still wrapped around you when you heard angry footsteps marching towards you.

"Get your hands off her, you prat," you heard Ron's voice say. Bill's arms dropped from your sides as you both turned to face Ron.

"Calm down, Ron," Bill told him.

Ron glared at his older brother. "Stop flirting with her, she's my best friend," he said sternly.

Your heart hurt. You wanted Ron to be jealous because he liked you, not because you were just his best friend.

"He can flirt with me if he wants." The words were out of your mouth before you could even filter it.

Ron's gaze snapped towards you and you almost had to take a step back from their intensity. "Do you want him to?" He asked you, his voice strained.

The answer was easy. No. You knew you didn't want Bill to flirt with you. He had been your first crush and he was beyond attractive, but he wasn't Ron. The only person you wanted was Ron. You said those words not because you wanted Bill, but because you wanted Ron to stop acting possessive if he didn't even love you back. It just hurt too much for him to act like your boyfriend if he was never going to be.

"Ron, I'm sorry," Bill said, mediating the situation. "I know you and y/n have something together, I shouldn't have overstepped. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

It won't happen again.

That's exactly what Ron told you after the night he had taken the love potion. The night that made you believe that maybe he did have the same feelings for you. But in the end, he regretted the moment that you had loved so much.

It won't happen again.

Tears crowded your vision and you tried your best to blink them away, you were not about to cry in front of him and show him just how much power he had over you and your emotions. But soon there were hot tears slipping down your cheeks and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Bill and Harry exchanged nervous glances as you and Ron just continued staring at each other. They both took a couple steps away to give you and Ron the space you needed to hash things out. Ron was breathing heavily, obviously still angry from the flirting between you and his brother. But you were angry too, angry that he didn't want you the way you wanted him.

"I don't want you flirting with my brother," he said, his intense gaze never leaving yours.

You rolled your eyes, "It's not your choice if I do."

Ron bristled at your comment, taking another step closer to you. You could practically feel the heat and anger radiating off of him.

"You know, you've really been pissing me off these past couple weeks," he said. "You prance around making breakfast in the mornings, but in reality all you're doing is trying to get with Bill. It's so fucking frustrating! I'm your best friend, we were supposed to be together every day you visited, but instead you found someone better to spend your time with."

God, he was thick. You told him that.

"I'm not trying to get with Bill, you dumb git!" you shouted back. Why couldn't he see that he was the only one you wanted. Bill hadn't even crossed your mind this summer, your heart was too full of Ron as it is.

At this point, you were practically nose to nose with him, your shouting words bringing you closer and closer towards each other.

Ron mimicked you from earlier and rolled his eyes. It was beyond infuriating. You set your jaw and clenched your hands as you tried not to yell more.

"Oh of course you're not. You just spend every waking moment with him and barely hang out with me, but sure you're not trying to get with him," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Now it was your turn to get angry. "Oh really? I'm the one to blame right now?" You shouted at him. The words were hot rolling off your tongue.

"You're the one who treats me so poorly! You cuddle me in your bed, and then run out the next morning. You almost kiss me and then act like it didn't happen! You told me what happened in your room was a mistake," the last sentence flew out of you, the anger just boiling and boiling up towards your breaking point.

Even though you knew it wouldn't do you any good, you kept talking. "Don't you dare try to put blame on me for this summer going to shit, because it's not my fault Ron! It's not my fault you're jealous of Bill, it's not my fault things aren't the same between us, and it's not my fault you don't love me back!"

Both of you froze as the words left your mouth. You wanted Ron to say something, needed him to say something, but he remained silent. You couldn't read his emotions and it was going to drive you crazy.

Ron stared at you, his eyes full to the brim with turbulent emotions that you couldn't read. All he did was shake his head.

"I don't want you with Bill," he finally said.

"You're not my boyfriend! You've made that perfectly clear!" You shouted back, your voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

Ron raked his hands through his messy hair, obvious frustrated. "If I were your boyfriend..." he started. "If I were your boyfriend... I wouldn't...." He glanced up at you and the words stopped forming at his mouth. You had tear streaks on your face and your eyes were still watery. The look of you must have shaken him too much for him to continue speaking.

"But you're fucking not! So stop acting like you are, because it hurts too much," you responded, all the fire gone from your argument. Instead it was replaced with a sad silence, the only sounds were the rustle in the tree branches and your occasional sniffle.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said, taking a step closer with his hand out to you, almost like he was thinking of reaching out to you.

You couldn't do this. You couldn't stay there, letting him reach out to touch you. It was clear he didn't love you back, so you couldn't stay and let him hold you when there wasn't any hope. You backed away from him, shaking your head as tears continued to fall down your cheeks.

"You did. You do," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. If not for Ron's body suddenly becoming stiff, you would have thought he didn't hear you.

"Y/n, please..." he began, but no words followed. You shook your head again before turning and running back inside to the Burrow.

Nobody moved when you entered the dimly lit house. The family was sitting around the crackling fire, chatting with one another. But all talk stopped as soon as you entered.

Hastily wiping the tears from your eyes, you tried to make yourself presentable.

"Sweetheart," Mrs Weasley said with that loving tone of hers only a mother could have, "are you alright?"

You nodded, despite the fact that you knew none of them believed you.

"I'm just a little tired is all, I think I'm going to head up to bed," you said, before climbing the stairs as quickly as possible.

As soon as you entered your makeshift room in the attic, you slammed the door shut behind you. You couldn't even make it to the bed before you crumbled onto the ground, your back pressed against the door. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you buried your head in your arms and let yourself cry.

Sobs racked your body as you replayed the conversation from outside. Ron didn't want you. He didn't love you back. He was angry and jealous, but he still didn't love you back.

You stayed there, pressed against the door for the next hour. Everyone headed up to bed at some point and Hermione and Ginny came to check on you. They explained how Harry told them about what happened outside but you just asked them to let you be alone for now. Being the good friends they are, they listened to your request, but not before Ginny promised to "beat Ron to a pulp for hurting you" the next morning.

Even Harry came to check on you. He was visibly uncomfortable, crying girls were never his strong suit (as you could remember from his first kiss with Cho Chang) but he still managed to give you a comforting hug. You thanked him and he left almost as quickly as he arrived. You got ready for bed in a trance, your eyes now swollen from the crying. Slipping on your pajamas, you barely noticed you were throwing on the vintage band shirt Ron had gotten you for a gift earlier. This only made you cry more. Dite landed on your shoulder as you lay in your bed. She affectionately pecked your ear and nuzzled her feathers against your cheek.

"I'm okay, Dite," you told her, petting her soft feathers. Your fingers traced the black heart on her head. Ron bought you an owl named Aphrodite, with a heart literally on her feathers, but he couldn't even tell you he loved you. These mixed signals made your head and heart both throb.

You fell asleep fitfully, waking up every couple of hours and tossing and turning in bed. Tomorrow was Percy's party, and you had to be okay for it. You couldn't let Ron know just how much he had hurt you. You would be fine tomorrow. You would be fine, just like you had been these past few weeks. You would be fine.

150 notes · View notes

isshuns · 3 years

Text

word dump

untitled kuroken fic in the lex miserables series :’) tw: eating problems, feeling disconnected from oneself, anxiety, idk if there’s depression in this lolol

the realisation that something is wrong with himself comes to kenma one day when hinata invites him to one of the firm’s after-work bonding sessions.

these bonding sessions usually take place on friday evenings, taking advantage of the happy hour policies of the bar down the street. the usual participants - tora, ryuu, noya, inuoka, lev and hinata - gather by kenma’s door while hinata beams at him expectantly, waiting for his acceptance to an invite that goes rejected every week.

it’s admirable, really, that hinata tries so hard to include him in the after-work team bonding sessions. it’s a benefit fully paid for by the firm, courtesy of the partners insisting that any costs for team bonding ought to be shouldered by the employers, but kenma is always the last person to ever take advantage of this benefit. it is probably the one single benefit of his employment that he rarely takes advantage of.

“come on, kenma, it’ll be fun!” hinata grins, radiant like the sun.

kenma blinks, steals a glance at the time displayed by the corner of his desktop, and sighs.

“sorry, shouyou, not today.” it ought to get easier each passing time he rejects hinata’s offer to drink themselves silly, but somehow it isn’t. the guilt that crawls through his skin consistently makes him sick with anxiety every time.

“it’s okay, next time, kenma! i’ll be sure to get you to come one day!”

hinata is welcome to try.

hunger faintly registers itself in his brain, but he has no appetite at all. he works backwards to identify his thought patterns for the past few days. he either stress-ate and had more meals per day than he usually did, or he didn’t eat at all despite knowing that he would get hungry the next day,

if kuroo noticed anything, kenma is only grateful that he hasn’t commented on it at all.

it feels strange, swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other end back and forth day by day. at the end of the journey, all kenma feels is bone deep exhaustion, bitter hopelessness and a sense of resignation.

on one day, he felt better, and indulged himself with an expensive unagi bento set from the michelin starred sushi restaurant down in roppongi. without digging in yet, he passed by his favourite bakery, saw his favourite apple pies fresh out of the oven, and bought two large slices on impulse.

kenma ate everything in one go for dinner. in the aftermath, the food he ingested probably washed away all the good cheer he had too. he felt sick, fat, and sluggish with too much food in his now round belly, and desperately wished that his stomach would stay flat forever instead. kenma felt disgusted with himself then, but not to the point he would stick his finger down his throat and purge everything out of his disgestive system. it was a passing thought, one he gave serious consideration to, but did not act on it because kuroo would find out.

the next day, he somehow felt dissatisfied, craved for the hash browns from mcdonald’s, and bought a breakfast set on a whim. kenma finished the entire meal on the way to work. and then he had lunch with the department, and by the time the sun was setting across the tokyo skyline, he lowkey disliked the feeling of ingesting food so much that he skipped dinner that night and forgoed all proper meals for the remaining days of the week. he survived on one single meal during lunch time, and continued to drown in the loss of appetite.

kenma hates this. he hates his relationship with food. he hates that therapy isn’t helping him to deal with this, that all the coping techniques he’s learned throughout therapy never prepared him for this. his next session with takeda-san is scheduled after another three weeks or so, and kenma is about to fling himself off the tokyo bridge if he has to continue surviving the days like this.

after hinata leaves, kenma continues to stare at his desktop, a blank expanse stretched across the monitor. he’s supposed to start on the submissions after trial for a case, but the cursor continues to blink and taunt him from the beginning of the blank page.

quietly, kenma slides open the drawer beside him, and quietly peruses the takeout menu kuroo left on his table last week before he travelled to hokkaido for a week-long trial. the yellow post-it note is still stuck onto the top left corner of the flyer.

just in case you don’t feel like going out for meals~, it reads.

it ought to feel endearing, and it would have, but kenma is stuck in some sort of fugue state with no exit in sight. so all he feels is emptiness, and disappointment in himself for failing to appreciate and capture the true emotion the post-it note meant to provide.

distantly, kenma feels the signs of hunger incoming. all he had for today was one salmon mayo onigiri from the local familymart at ground floor at noon. right now, time has trickled by and is inching closer towards 8pm. with the pandemic, restaurants will close soon.

i should order something, kenma tells himself, but the lack of appetite overpowers all semblance of rationality, disconnects his thoughts and shuts down his brain. by the time kenma leaves the office, the takeout menu is tucked back into the drawer, out of sight, out of mind.

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

kenma hears the sound of something frying coming from his apartment before he actually smells food in the air. the train leading home was oddly empty today for a friday evening, and kenma had almost the entire carriage to himself. hunger never came back to find him while he stared blankly out of the windows, lost to the static buzzing across his mind.

kuroo is back today, early, his brain tells him unhelpfully as he fishes out his key and unlocks the door, kuroo is cooking.

his mouth waters at the smell of fried oil wafting through the air, but somehow he still doesn’t feel hungry, nor does he feel the need to eat. if he doesn’t exert himself tonight and sleeps early, kenma is confident that he can power through the night without sustenance until lunchtime next morning.

“welcome home~” kuroo chimes, voice rising above the sizzling sound of hot oil frying in a pan.

kenma doesn’t need to wait for long before his partner appears before him in the genkan, ridiculous pink apron draped in front of his expensive armani dress shirt as he brandishes a pair of long chopsticks in kenma’s face.

“i cooked dinner.” kuroo declares proudly. because i know you have not eaten yet, goes unsaid.

what should kenma say now? i know, or that’s nice, or perhaps i’m not hungry? which response should he give that would not trigger kuroo to overreact and fuss over his recent lack of appetite? kenma doesn’t want kuroo to worry again. kuroo should only smile, and not have to worry about his wellbeing.

kuroo must have picked up on his mental dilemma, and gives him the easy way out.

“why don’t you go wash up? i’ll be done in five, then we can eat together.” he smiles, and ducks to peck a chaste kiss on kenma’s forehead before going back to the kitchen.

kenma’s heart twists in guilt.

when he’s done showering, kenma stands in front of the wardrobe mirror in nothing but kuroo’s oversized shirt hanging off his wiry frame. his face is thinner now, cheek bones more prominent. his fingers travel down from his jawline to press against the collarbones hidden beneath pale skin.

the hard touch of bones brings him comfort, somehow. with this, kenma will never have to feel disgusted with himself by eating too much and having food fill up his stomach. the sick feeling that he gets from eating one meal too much a day won’t return to haunt him anymore like this. his brain is now quiet, nothing is telling him that he needs to eat, that he needs to pick up the phone to order for food, that he needs to put on decent clothes and walk down the street to get food.

nothing, except kuroo, who is walking up to him this instant, fond expression painted across his handsome features, and planting his large hands over his hipbones.

“have i ever told you how much i love seeing you in my shirt?” kuroo dips his head and presses a kiss against kenma’s shoulder.

kenma rolls his eyes. kuroo’s smile grows wider, brighter, and he releases him after stroking his thumbs across kenma’s hipbones not once but twice.

“come, kenma,” kuroo leads him to the table, where a bowl of udon and assorted tempura awaits him. kenma’s shoulders drop a little more.

“eat,” kuroo says.

kuroo takes a seat across him, still smiling, and waits for kenma to start digging in. instead, kenma waits and counts the seconds it would take for that smile to disappear off kuroo’s face.

in this house, there is no need to pretend to force food down his oesophagus and feel shitty about it later. kenma chooses not to touch his food, just like how kuroo hasn’t touched his either.

“are you feeling unwell, kenma?” the smile is still there, perched on kuroo’s lips, but kenma notices the way it tightens a little and loses the casualness it once possessed mere seconds ago.

“... no.”

“are you not hungry?”

kenma fidgets in his seat. how does he tell kuroo that he just doesn’t feel like eating? that he looks at food and his brain doesn’t tell him to consume them for sustenance anymore?

“yeah. i’m not hungry, sorry, after you cooked and all that.” he says, quietly, like the walls of this house have ears and nowhere is safe for his ugly feelings to go.

“that’s alright, kenma. you don’t have to be sorry, we can save this for lunch tomorrow.” kuroo gestures vaguely in the air, “we have snacks. eat something. let’s not go to bed on an empty stomach.”

kenma shrinks further into his seat. he really doesn’t want to eat at all today, for some reason. the thought of food swimming in his stomach makes him feel a little sick.

“hey, kenma,” kuroo reaches out to touch him, voice soft, “what’s wrong? you can tell me, I won’t be mad.”

kuroo stands from his seat, and comes to sit beside kenma and pull the latter into his arms. he always comes to him, never the other way around. kenma doesn’t know what to make of it, but he feels touched yet guilty at the same time. he knows he should reach out to kuroo more often, reassure him whenever things are looking up, but it’s always kuroo that reaches out first because he knows and understands how difficult it is for kenma step out of his anxiety and take the first step.

kenma doesn’t deserve kuroo’s love. he will never be worthy of his affections.

“i just... don’t feel like eating. lately.” the last word comes out softer, barely a whisper, but from the way kuroo’s arms tighten around his shoulders, kenma knows kuroo has picked up the intended meaning behind his words.

“it’s okay to feel that way,” kuroo tells him kindly, “it’s okay.”

“i don’t know why. i just... feel disconnected, somehow, from myself.”

“thank you for telling me, kenma. what can i do to help?”

kenma wants to cry. well, at least that’s a feeling other than emptiness in him now.

“I don’t know, kuro.”

“we’ll figure it out. it’s okay, we’ll take baby steps, one step at a time. i will be here with you to support you.”

kenma closes his eyes and leans against kuroo’s lean body. he buries his nose into the juncture between kuroo’s neck and shoulder, seeking warmth and comfort. he feels the tension seep out of kuroo’s shoulders when kenma finally reciprocates, knowing that kenma isn’t closing himself off to the world now, to kuroo. the door leading to kenma’s being is still open and nobody has slammed any door closed yet.

kenma sighs.

“thank you,” he says.

3 notes · View notes

hayjeon · 4 years

Text

Union (ft. Taehyung) | part 2

→ arrangedmarriage!au between werewolf!taehyung and wolfhunter!reader → (2.4k) part 1 | 02 | tbd

a/n: changing this series’ name to union instead of Scream if you want to!

during quarantine, i’ll do my best to update more often! this is from a request I got in my inbox, so feel free to remind me of some au’s i have in my masterlist that you enjoyed and would like to see more of! (pls fyi that some stories in my ml have been discontinued and have been marked as such, so pls don’t request those!)

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed. The covers have been strewn off and there’s a clear dent in the mattress where he’d slept. Contrary to him, you’d spent the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep with the thought of spending eternity with him, and had only gotten a few hours when the sun begin to rise.

You sigh, casting off the covers of yourself as you call for a maid and some proper clothing, this time. “And when I’m finished dressing, have the closets stocked with proper dresses and underskirts. Get rid of all those flimsy slips and lingerie.”

Her eyes widen at that, but she doesn’t question you and nods. “Would you like me to pack some of them into your luggage however, Your Highness?”

You turn and frown. “My luggage?”

She nods, “Have you not read the letter I placed on your nightstand, Your Highness? The Emperor of the Nightlands is holding a wedding in a week. The Dowager King and Queen have arranged for you and the King to attend the wedding, and to make it promptly, both you and the King must leave tonight.”

Of course. Your parents were too weak and old to make the trip on their own for a week. It was your duty to attend. You’d probably missed the envelope in the craze of the wedding details. You close your eyes as the tears of frustration threaten to come back up.

“No, just pack my regular dresses and my essentials. I’ll do the rest myself.”

“Yes, your highness.” She continues to help you do your hair. “You can just call me y/n,” you say, but she just gives you a smile and continues to work in silence.

“Does he know?”

She meets your eyes in the mirror. “The King?”

At your nod, she gives a tight-lipped smile, as she threads more pins into your hair. “Yes, your highness. He woke up in the early morning to prepare the horses and the details of the boat that will take you both to your destination. Isn’t that so sweet?”

You don’t answer her. Sweet? You had to make sure to see the carriage and the boat for yourself. There was only one condition that you would board either of those two things. If he and you had separate quarters.

“I thought I was clear that I wanted separate quarters,” you hiss at him so only he can hear. You place a hand on his arm to make it look like nice banter to the maids and other guards who were watching the both of you.

He gives you a blank stare, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I tried my best, your majesty, but this is the royal carriage that your parents had insisted on. Now laugh as if I said something funny.”

You mutter, “as if,” but you still throw your head back and hide your fake smile behind a hand as you let out a giggle loud enough for your surrounding courts to hear. He matches the sentiment with a lop-sided grin that doesn’t match the dark look in his eyes.

He holds a hand out to you. “Shall we, my queen?”

You turn and wave to the court, the maids, the guards, and all the townspeople who’d gathered to see you both off onto your first event as their King and Queen. You turn back to Taehyung and place your hand in his, “Of course, my King.”

He helps you up the steps into the waiting carriage, and you take a seat as Taehyung closes the doors behind you both and gives a final farewell to the crowd. He joins you in the carriage across from you, and you cross your arms, now in the privacy of the curtain-drawn carriage.

“How long is this journey? Your Kingdom is closeby.”

He draws the curtains a bit and stares outside. “4 days by boat, and 3 days by carriage when we arrive.”

Your eyes widen. “An entire week?!”

He turns to you, the curtains flicking back closed. Crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat, he settles his gaze on you. “Why, princess, have you not traveled by boat for that long? Are you afraid?”

When you don’t respond, he leans forward with his elbows on his knees, crowding your space. “Are you scared of what lies beyond the borders of your perfect little country? Your hunters may have kept your lands nice and tidy until now, but beyond this place, lies the reality. Wolves, for instance. And vampires, witches, sirens, pirates,” he sneers, his lips twitching up mischievously at the look of horror on your face, “they all exist. And they hate hunters.”

You press your lips together, trying not to stutter. “I have encountered a few of them in my training. Do you think my father would have appointed me as queen had I not been familiar with the other species that inhabit this world? I have read countless books and reports on these other species. I might know them better than you do.”

Catching your bluff, he scoffs, leaning back again and cocking his head at you. The smile still remains, making you even more angry. “Do you think your books and tutors will save you when the sirens start ripping our boat to shreds? Or when the witches begin to tear you apart, piece by piece? Or when the vampires sneak into your bedroom at night to suck your blood until you’re dry? No,” he laughs, “experience, my dear princess, is what wins the battle.”

He stands, opening the carriage door and stepping out to join the coachman. He turns back, giving you a grin that reminds you of what he said last night. His voice dips low and drips with the double entendre of his words. “And I have plenty of it.”

You shut the door in his face.

The journey from your castle to your kingdom’s docks isn’t quick, as your kingdom had been built with your castle as its center, far away from any attack from sea or land. Thankfully, Taehyung continues to have a conversation with the coachman, and you’re able to catch up on the sleep that you’d missed the night before.

You’re rudely awakened by the carriage coming to a complete stop, and you almost tumble out of your seat as you adjust your dress and peek out the curtain. You already see a crowd of people gathered at the dock, and a huge wooden boat awaiting you and the King. Gathering your wits, you take a deep breath, and step out of the carriage.

Immediately, children run unabashedly up to you, jumping up and down at the opportunity to meet their Queen in person, and they hand you little trinkets and candy as they laugh and run around you. You see in the corner of your eye that Taehyung stands awkwardly off to the side, warily eyeing the villagers, and in turn, they give him suspicious glares.

You sigh. You knew this would happen. People in the countryside were less happy about this merger between the hunters and the wolves, and were a bit old-fashioned in their ways of thinking. Of course they’d be less inclined to warm up to a wolf, much less the King.

This was your duty. This was why you’d been married off. To unite the two species. You turn, plastering on a smile and holding out your hand to Taehyung. He meets your eyes confusedly, questioning your intentions. You just nod slightly and open your hand up to him, and he hesitantly takes a few steps towards you and the children, and places his larger hand in yours.

When he approaches, some of the children warily step back, eyeing the Wolf King and his rugged looks. His features were sharp and intimidating, and most of your hunters weren’t used to that. You give your best smile and squat in front of one child who seems a bit scared, motioning for Taehyung to do the same.

“Hello, whats your name?” You say smoothly, holding out your other hand to the child.

He’s tiny, probably no more than three or four years old. His cheeks are full, however, and his eyes are bright. It was probably his first time meeting anyone from royalty, and therefore anyone other than the hunter species.

“I’m Jaehong!” He says excitedly, bouncing up and down.

“Hello Jaehong, I’m y/n,” you say, and turning slightly to Taehyung, you say, “And this is Taehyung, my husband.”

The little boy warily eyes Taehyung. He leans in to whisper loudly “My mommy says that wolves are scary creatures. Is that true?”

You let out a little laugh, and you see how Taehyung shifts under the discomfort of not knowing what to do. It’s amusing, as the confident, cunning man becomes awkward and meek under the wary gazes of your townspeople and this three-year-old child.

“No, Jaehong, that’s old-fashioned. Your mommy may have been told that by her parents a long time ago, but times have changed. This man is now the King, and he is a great person.” You take their hands, turning Taehyung’s large palm up and placing Jaehong’s little one in it. “See? He’s human, warm-blooded and soft like me.”

Taehyung gives a small smile to the boy, and Jaehong carefully studies the way his hand fits in Taehyung’s before breaking out in to a wide smile. “Okay,” he says, “Nice wolf,” he steps forward and places his other hand on Taehyung’s cheek.

The crowd gasps at the sight. Wolves were known to be aggressive and territorial in nature, and any wolf wouldn’t have taken it kindly to a hunter touching its face. But Taehyung just smiles, leaning into the touch and ruffles Jaehong’s hair. “Yes, I am a nice wolf,” he laughs, and the crowd visibly relaxes and murmurs break out. Some of the children re-emerge from behind their mothers and eye the two curiously, as you stand and wave to your townspeople.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming. We will see you in a couple of weeks, as it takes one entire week to make the trip there alone. We wish you well!”

The crowd waves and calls out their goodbyes as you and Taehyung board the ship. You notice that Taehyung gives Jaehong one last goofy smile and pat on the head before joining you onto the plank. He has an olive’s branch in his hair.

The lack of separate quarters on the boat also gives you a headache, but you decide to not speak of it, and Taehyung seems to do the same. In fact, he seems a bit more quieter than usual, using his fork to push around the food on his plate as he stares at the olive branch that the boy had placed behind his ear.

You glance at him. Was he upset over the interaction on the dock? That you’d forced him to be subjected to the touch of a hunter without his permission? You bit your lip, regretting what you did. You shouldn’t have touched him, shouldn’t have introduced him, and should have just let him deal with it on his own. Wolves were independent by nature, and only chose to depend on others when needed.

Before you can say anything, Taehyung speaks up from across the table.

“Thank you.”

You gawk, almost choking on the spoonful of food you were chewing on. You gulp down some wine as Taehyung gives you a bored look.

“What?” You cough out, wincing at the scratch in your throat.

“I said, thank you. For what happened back at the dock.”

You frown at him. “Why?” You blurt out.

He just stares at his food. “I...didn’t know how to approach them. I can only imagine how they as your people feel about me. Their precious princess, married off to some wolf, the King of the species that had been known to terrorize and kill yours.”

You soften. “You know that the feud between our species was a misunderstanding. There is no one to blame. Our people have also given your species reason to fear and hide. We are none the more innocent.”

He takes a sip of his wine, nodding thoughtfully. “Even then, I wouldn’t have been able to experience that without your help. I now see the merit behind this union.”

“What do you mean? The reason for our marriage?”

He nods, twirling the olive branch in his fingers.

“I fought against it, you know. The merger. I did not think it would be possible, a union between our species. We were doomed to fight and wage war with each other from the beginning of time. I thought there would be no way to make this union work, much less convince our people to do the same, either.”

He stops twirling the branch, and meets your gaze. “But seeing how you managed to get an entire town’s approval, it makes me think of the wisdom behind our father’s choices.”

You set down your fork. “I believe that it is necessary.”

He quirks a brow. “Necessary?”

You nod, “It is our duty to unite our people. Our species would not survive if we did not unite. We’d continue hunting your species, and your species would continue killing us in retaliation. There would have been no end. Our father’s choices were diplomatic and wise, not thinking of themselves and the difficulties it would take to get there, but rather investing in a brighter future ahead of us. And we should be doing the same. It will always be our duty as King and Queen.”

Taehyung’s gaze darkens at that a bit. “So this marriage is nothing but out of necessity, out of duty, for you? So that feat that you put on at the docks,” he stares down at his palm before bitterly staring back at you, “was all for show? For necessity and duty? How can you be so cold?” His voice turns icy at that, and you frown.

“Is it not duty for you?” You snap back. “Don’t think that I am ignorant to what was going on in your Kingdom when you agreed to marry me. I know that in order to become King, you had to have some sort of advantage against your elder brother. Is that not the reason why you agreed to this? To marry a hunter, in order to take the throne? Don’t pretend like this is some selfless act of passion for you.”

He stands, the chair scraping loudly. His jaw is set in an angry hardness, and you half expect for him to begin throwing insults or yelling at you, but he just gives you a hard glare before stalking off in the direction of your shared room.

You curse when he slams the door. You’d planned to get there first, but now he’d ruined everything.

#taehyung fics #bts fics #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #fics #writing #drabbles #bts drabbles

390 notes · View notes

zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Every King Needs An Heir (PART II): Always And Forever

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Original!Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing, mention of murder, me not proofreading yet again

Note: If you’d like to be tagged in this series, feel free to message me, send an ask, or comment/reply!

Also, I forgot to mention; these will not be in the order they’re shown in, and some will be memories from TVD. Not all memories will be shown from the scenes they are originally shown in as well (like Cami in her apartment with Klaus. That is where it’s originally set, but I’m saying I may change it, like if I were to make that same memory take place in his sleep by himself), but the main point is that it’s memories and Klaus 😅

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part I / Part II / Part III

Klaus sighed to himself as he sat down in his chair, mind flooded. The paintbrush previously in his hand now sat in it’s proper place, paint drying slowly while all he could do was wait. His childhood, shared with the love of his life, was something he reminisced on at times like these; bored out of his mind, waiting, or in easier words, when he had nothing to do.

However, these memories were not as pleasant. His eyes fluttered to a close, brain diving back into over a thousand years prior to today. 990, A.D.

He was just a boy. Niklaus and Y/n snuck off, his finger rushing to his mouth to sign her silence. He stopped, grabbing an item he’d hidden earlier before they set off.

They picked the berries, placing them in the small trayish bowl as they went along. After they’d gathered enough, Niklaus grounded them up into a different substance.

Y/n watched with awe, her eyes flicking up to his whilst she kept her head low to admire the paste. No words were spoken, yet they weren’t necessary to express their feelings in that moment.

He scooped some of it with the makeshift brush, as they didn’t exist in the earlier time, and grabbed some smoother bark, almost like the skin of a tree if it had any. The two met eyes before he touched the brush and wood, creating a blueish-purplish color.

Y/n smiled, amused and in awe. She leaned closer to Klaus, resting her cheek on his shoulder as they admired the color together. That was, before a yell startled them. Frightened, Nik told Y/n to wait for him, “You must promise me, alright?”

She nodded, all too wise to promise vocally, as it would be genuine. And she didn’t want to promise something she knew she wouldn’t keep.

The boy began to wander in the forest, eventually coming across the horrifying sight of dead bodies. Many. He wasn’t as scared as one would imagine, finding the sight equally as intriguing, in a way.

Then a not-so-dead person coughed, bringing the fear right back into Niklaus. He looked up, noticing Klaus, then reaching out for him. “Help me! Please- help me- please-” All he could do was watch as the man whimpered quietly for his aid.

Footsteps sounded behind the younger hybrid, startling him far worse than any dead bodies did, for he knew exactly who it was. Mikael walked towards the man, who was now yelling his pleas for help, and quieted him with one stab of his blade.

He turned to his son, sharp end of his sword pointed towards the blond, “You would show mercy to an enemy?! A fiend, who plotted to raid our home?!” Klaus began to back up slowly, “Mercy is for the weak, Niklaus.”

A twig snapped, both male’s attention turning to Y/n. Her eyes were wide upon the sight of Mikael who stared her down until she looked to Nik with fear and regret in her eyes. He nodded, telling her to run back to her home, before facing his father again.

“You.” He backed into a tree, breathing heavily and dodging his eyes from Mikael’s. “Look at you, boy, you are pathetic. If you are determined to prove yourself a weakling, I should cast you out!” the boy flinched, “Better your brothers not be exposed to a coward!”

Klaus woke up, breathing heavily as he recovered from the horrible nightmare of his past. The horror in the younger Y/n’s eyes when she saw Mikael with him, it was similar to his own. Arms wrapped around him from behind, the presence of the same girl he’d been dreaming about, strong behind him.

“You scared me, you know. I was worried you’d hurt yourself or something, but now,” she pulled his rolly-chair back enough for her to sit herself onto his lap and rest her arms around his neck, “I’m sorry you had to dream of something as shitty as that. No one should experience anything to do with that shitty bastard, especially not you.”

“I know, love...” An arm supporting her and the other resting on her thighs, he began to rub the fabric of her tights softly. “I believe you know how I enjoyed the first half of that lovely dream, however. Remembering the amazement on your face when I had first shown you.. it’s worth any, in your words, “shitty memory of my equally as shitty father”.”

“Well...” she laughed, “To make up for it, why don’t we think of something else? Something different from Mikael and his cruelty?” Klaus nodded, connecting their lips, then their foreheads.

Them. Dancing by the bonfire, a time when Niklaus was at his happiest. Y/n stood by her friend, Tatia, dancing whilst giggling their murmurs about the two Mikaelson brothers they’d had their eyes on.

Y/n and Klaus had already been a thing for some time, practically vowing it to each other when they were just children. But that didn’t stop her from gossiping with Tatia of her admiration for the handsome blond. Besides, she’d already known of her small crush on the brother of her beloved, so whispers about the brothers were a thing between the two.

However, she was interrupted when Klaus, excited and impatient, twisted her around and grabbed her hands. The smile on her face only grew, overjoyed by just the one person.

He lifted his mask, Y/n lifting hers as well, and gazed into her eyes lovingly before dipping her for a rough, yet chaste, as they were in the presence of the rest of their village, kiss. He held her for a moment, before she pulled away, murmuring of how public they were against his lips.

Tatia waved goodbye as she ran off to wherever Elijah had gone, leaving Y/n and Niklaus to dance together. He was behind her, hold her waist as they danced joyfully. Klaus held her close to him, the warmth of his body giving her comfort in the cold night, as if the fire had no effect that Klaus couldn’t top with a way of his own.

Still, the intimacy brought a smile to their faces then, after, and now.

Their eyes opened, faces in front of one another’s with the same grins as the ones they held in their memory. Y/n looked away from her husband, mind suddenly filled with something else.

His hand titled her chin up, causing her to look at him, “What is it, my love? A penny for your thoughts?” The raise of his eyebrows brought a small giggle to her throat.

“Remember, the first time I’d seen you after you transitioned? You were horrified, yet...”

The couple sat together, one naked and frightened, the other clothed and feeling sympathy for her lover. Curled up with his arms over his knees, he leaned into Y/n’s embrace slightly, the other half of him being too shaken up to notice her trying to comfort him.

“Nik?” Y/n brushed some of his hair from his face, managing to get a second or two of eye contact before he looked away again, “I understand your fear, believe me, I do-”

“Are you afraid?”

She blinked. “Of what?”

“Of me. I’m a monster, Y/n.”

“No. You’re not. You are Niklaus Mikaelson. The love of my life. I would die before I ever let you become a monster, let alone let you believe so.” Her hand continued it’s journey through his knotted hair. Her voice calmed him. Her fearlessness overall brought him comfort.

He nodded, burying his face back into his knees.

Y/n turned, giving a weak glance to Elijah as he walked around to the front of his brother and his lover. “Brother.” Klaus looked up and Elijah looked at Y/n. He handed Niklaus clothing while his eyes trained on Y/n, silently pleading for her to give him some time alone with his sibling.

Klaus reached out gently, grabbing the clothes and making a gesture for Y/n to stay. The silence was strong, until Klaus had pulled on his trousers and broke it. “What am I? ...How many...” he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Six.” Klaus’s hands darted up to his face, covering his dried-blood covered mouth, preventing any cries, signs of remorse, or really, any emotion to show. “You slaughtered six villagers, brother. You tore them apart as if they were nothing at all.”

Y/n reached for Klaus, who stayed still, as she watched the look of terror, as well as nausea, make way to his bloodied features. Had it been anyone else, he would’ve flinched or shoved them away, if not moved himself.

“Yet I was...”

She helped Klaus up with Elijah, not speaking as she watched the brothers converse of Klaus’ true nature. “Brother- what have I become?”

“You seem like the wolves of the village; cursed to turn when the moon is full.” Klaus opened his mouth, eyes filling with tears again as he searched and searched to no avail.

Elijah pulled him into a hug, whispering to Klaus what he wished to be hidden from Y/n and her might love for his brother, “Father is beside himself with rage. It seems this...affliction..can only be passed by a certain kind of...conception.”

Niklaus sobbed into his brother shoulder, “And do our siblings share this affliction?” He pulled away, looking to Elijah with a desperate expression, “Do you share this affliction?”

The older of the two slowly lifted his head, shaking it, much to his younger brother’s disappointment. “No. I don’t.”

Realization clicked in Klaus’s mind, his tear stained face showing more hurt than Elijah had ever seen. “He’s not my father, is he?”

He stepped forward, grabbing the side of Niklaus’ head, “You listen to me. This changes nothing, for any of us. We are here for you, as we shall be always.” Elijah pulled Klaus’ head to meet his before he heard a twig snap, both Y/n and his own head’s snapping towards the noise.

Tatia’s eyes flicked to the body, then to the three vampires, fear filling her as she put two and two together. Elijah ran after her, yelling her name.

“I was...”

Y/n did as Elijah had done, putting her forehead to her lover’s and whispering sweet nothings to him. He lowered himself to the ground, Y/n following, and began to sob softly.

“It’s alright, my love.”

“How can you know?” He never questioned her, likewise her to him, but this was a time she could understand him doing so.

“I may not know for certain, but I know this. I will always, and I mean always, be here for you. Through your ups and downs, I will experience them with you. When you have foes, they will be mine as well. Your burdens, I shall carry beside you. I love you, Niklaus. I stand by what I said before your brother found us. I shall stand beside you, shall, will, and do, love you, shall fight with and for you,”

“I was overcome with this feeling, this.. this need to protect you.”

“always and forever.”

“Always and forever.”

227 notes · View notes