#look at this shit is longer than the Half Blood Prince | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oreomonsterhunter · 2 years

Text

Someday My Princess Will Come

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 24.5k (I KNOW)

Genre: fantasy, prince Jimin AU

Warnings: violence (fight scene), blood/injuries, allusion to emotional trauma/abuse, potentially triggering conversation with father figure

Summary: Jimin is the prince locked in a tower, and you’re the brave knight destined to save him.

Masterlist

You weren’t cut out for the hero business. No, really. Knighthoods were reserved for noblemen, princes, kings. Never daughters, no matter how high their station. When you were five years old and optimistic to a fault, the news had been devastating. Your father had handed down his decree that you would never pursue a knighthood. You were to wear dresses and learn to dance. The closest you would come to battle would be verbal sparring with courtiers and visiting politicians. You would wield a smile, not a sword. No amount of pleading could convince him to change his mind, or try to change the law.

But that hadn’t stopped you.

You would never have your knighthood, your father had seen to that. But his arguments could only hold for so long. Short of locking you up or marrying you off to a man from a faraway kingdom, your father could not control you. You found teachers in the most unlikely of places, challenging others to see if you could beat them.

At eight years of age, you had annoyed the resident guardsmen into showing you all of their tips and tricks for building strength, agility. And how to throw a mean right hook. At eleven, you were starting bar fights to test your footwork, as well as your eyesight. You lost many of them, despite your opponents being sloshed half of the time. Your mother had nearly fainted when you returned from one such fight, having missed the knife in your opponent’s belt buckle. The faint scar on your left arm was a constant reminder of that particular trick.

By thirteen, you’d learned hand-to-hand combat, staff work, and archery. At sixteen, you were adept at sword fighting and all manner of battle on horseback. And when you’d turned eighteen, you approached your father one final time, kneeling before him to implore to be knighted.

No.

And so you’d left, not looking back at the place you’d been born but never raised. No, you had raised yourself. You had fallen in the dirt and picked yourself up again, time after time. You had learned at the knee of strangers. You had accepted the help of criminals, soldiers, beggars and thieves. And you had offered your own hand in return.

You might not be a knight, thanks to your father. But you certainly weren’t his little princess. Not anymore.

* * * * *

The barkeep gave you an odd look, but merely grunted when you passed him your tankard to fill. Anyone with sense brought their own, rather than being subjected to the mouth leavings of every other patron in the past year. Or perhaps longer, by the look of the grimy mugs on the other side of the bar.

You exchanged a coin for a full tankard, then made your way to a quiet table along the rear wall. The ale was just cooler than room temperature, but refreshing enough after the day’s ride. You’d just come from the south, where the heat was terrible and the alcohol somehow worse.

“—Absolutely not. We’re crossing the river and heading north that way. I can smell the smoke from here, I’ve no desire to get within a league of that cursed tower.”

Your ears pricked, listening in on the conversation from the next table over.

“The crossing is mad this time of year, let alone on that shit bridge. I’ve no mind to fall in, and the ferry won’t cross ‘til after the spring floods.”

“Do ye want to get eaten? Be my guest.”

“I reckon drownin’s better than burnin’.”

A cursed tower? Burning? But the men grumbled and changed the subject before you could learn more. You turned around, leaning one arm on the back of your chair as you drawled, “What’s got you lads all worked up, then?”

The group fell silent, eyeing you suspiciously. With your hair braided, tucked under a cap, and your chest hidden beneath your leathers, you passed as a boy of around fourteen years—too young to speak to these grizzled travelers so casually. You sighed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m heading north, planning on traveling along the river, but it seems you know more than I do. What lies ahead?”

Two of the older men exchanged a glance, before one tugged on his beard thoughtfully. “There’s a tower, and a beast guardin’ it. You’d do well to avoid it, too, boy.”

You ignored his assumption, narrowing your eyes at his scant detail. “What kind of beast? Is it a curse or a monster?”

A different man frowned at you, “Possibly both. No one’s survived to tell what it is. But you can smell the flames from a mile off, burning bodies.”

“Maybe some sort of beast, I reckon it will eat ye. After it cooks ye to its taste,” a third man added.

Your mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “Sure it’s not some happy band of raiders?”

The last man shook his head, downing his drink with a hand that shook. “I got close enough to see the tower once. Did’na see tents, nor any buildings aside from the one.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice, “Only one living soul, someone singing from the top of the tower. And then I saw flames erupt from the base. I didn’t dare go any closer than that.”

“Afraid it was a witch, he was,” the bearded man said with a chuckle. But the whole group looked nervous.

You frowned at the information. You’d heard legends of all manner of monsters, had slain quite a few yourself, but hadn’t yet come across anything to do with fire. Regardless, you supposed you would check it out, if only to let folk travel north without risking the wrath of the river. And perhaps to see who was in that tower.

You’d see if they needed saving or killing.

* * * * *

Jimin leaned out of the window, craning his neck to see better. Nothing, as usual. He’d been bored as hell for days, and hadn’t seen another living thing for longer than that. Well, another living creature aside from the giant fucking dragon that scared everyone away. What he wouldn’t give for some conversation.

He sighed, pushing off of the sill and beginning to pace the room. Again. Jimin looked to his meager collection of books. He could reread The Art of War for the hundredth time. Maybe try blackout poetry? Ah, but then he couldn’t read it again, and who knew how long he’d be stuck here. Hopefully he’d be rescued before he grew old and died. That was one way to break the curse, he supposed.

Groaning dramatically, Jimin flung himself across the four-poster bed. Reading was out, he’d already baked enough cookies to feed an army, and his legs were aching from the exercises he’d pushed through that morning. Should he learn to sew? If he made a flag out of undergarments, someone might finally get brave enough to come closer, Jimin mused. Or at least provide some entertainment. Then he shook his head; he wasn’t that bored. And there was the smell to consider.

Jimin rolled over, catching sight of his notes. A smile bloomed, and he reached for a quill. “This music won’t write itself,” he said to himself, hunkering down amidst ink and paper. He hummed to himself, correcting lyrics and adjusting the melody, deliberate in every stroke of the pen.

Jimin hadn’t always loved to sing. No, as a child, he loved to dance. He still did, it was just harder now, trapped in this tower. And no one could see him dance, no one could feel what he felt, muscles stretching in a silent scream of all those hidden emotions. But music? That he could share. The dragon certainly didn’t mind, and occasionally, he’d sing well enough that strangers came to investigate. The dragon did mind that.

He winced, wondering if perhaps it was better to resign himself to his fate. No more singing, no more death. He could dance in this small room for the rest of his days, content if not truly happy.

Yet he missed the feeling of grass between his toes.

Jimin’s voice turned soft as he sang softly, for once not trying to attract attention. This song, it wasn’t his own. It was a faded memory, a song he faintly remembered from his mother. A memory from before the curse, when his family was still whole. From before his father’s descent into madness. Before his foolish deal with the witch—the deal that had cost him his son.

Jimin glared out the window. Then he blinked in shock, dropping papers in his mad scramble to the sill. There was a figure in the distance, on horseback. He practically squealed in excitement, rushing to the mirror. Jimin fluffed his hair, bemoaning the state of the bags under his eyes. And his clothes! It looked like he’d slept in this doublet. Which he supposed wasn’t strictly untrue, but he couldn’t wear this in front of his rescuer.

In the midst of searching for his blue velvet shirt, Jimin paused, his stomach dropping. He always got excited, every single time, but not one hero had succeeded. What made this one any different?

Still, he changed into velvet, silk, and jewels. He practiced his smile in the mirror. He pretended he wasn’t already disappointed. He ignored the guilt in the pit of his stomach, the guilt that dug its claws in a little deeper each time he dared to hope. And then Jimin went to the window and waited once more.

* * * * *

You stared at the dragon coiled around the base of the tower. For that’s what it was, unmistakably. What else looked like a giant lizard with wings? And from the puff of smoke that occasionally escaped its nostrils, it breathed fire as well.

That explained the smell, you mused.

You pursed your lips, scanning the area while still hidden in the treeline. “What do you think?” you murmured to your horse, dismounting quietly. “Sword or spear?”

Cricket snorted, shaking her head as if to say “I’m a horse, how should I know?”.

“Fair enough,” you laughed, patting her neck. “Alright, for now, let’s set you up away from the fight. I know you don’t like a fuss.”

Cricket lifted her nose, picking her way through the trees delicately, as if those same hooves hadn’t smashed enemies into the sand a few weeks before. A bloodthirsty beast, to be sure. You grinned.

Once Cricket was safely ensconced in a small clearing, you made your way back to your vantage point, peering around the trees to get a good look at the dragon. It was huge, each clawed paw the size of a cow. The head alone was larger than the huts that poor families lived in. And for it to wrap the entirety of its body and tail around the tower and then some...you didn’t want to calculate that immense size.

Yet you had no desire to turn back. You were here, as was this enormous creature. And you hadn’t backed down from a challenge yet in your life. Plus, it didn’t look like anyone else had any interest in dealing with this particular problem, which left you. Might as well, you supposed, hunkering down. You eyed the beast critically, looking for strengths and weaknesses, anything to give you an edge. You didn’t believe in luck, which meant it would wake up long before you wanted it to—better to be prepared for the worst.

In the middle of counting your arrows, a flash of movement from above caught your eye. You froze, glancing up at the tower, only to blink in surprise at the male figure leaning out of a window and waving.

“Brave knight, I thank you for riding to my aid,” he called. You winced, looking at the dragon. Much to your surprise, it didn’t even twitch.

“Are you trying to get me killed?” you glared up at him.

“If you wish to save me, you must heed my advice,” the stranger said.

You snorted, “Who said I came to save you?”

Silence. Not the answer he was expecting, then. “Well then why are you here?” Ah, so now he was done with the flowery talk.

“I’m here for the dragon. Heard it was terrorizing travelers, came to fix the problem.” You cocked your head to the side. “No one said anything about a damsel.”

At the base of the tower, the dragon huffed. You stiffened, placing a hand on the hilt of your sword, but it didn’t move any further. Meanwhile, the man in the tower was spluttering indignantly. “The dragon? And me—a damsel? I am a prince—”

“Yeah, alright, I get it,” you cut him off. “I can get you out of there while I’m at it. But once you’re rescued, you’re on your own.”

“What am I supposed to do then? Walk?”

“Use some of your fancy jewelry to pay for a ride or something,” you said, securing your arrows and slinging the quiver across your back once more. “I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care.”

You made quick work of stringing your bow, ignoring the offended commentary from the so-called prince. You’d deal with the dragon, and then you’d deal with him. No telling if the beast was his pet or his jailor, but you were beginning to suspect his innocence. No evil sorcerer would be this chatty, you glowered at him.

“Wait, wait!” The man’s cries stopped you in the midst of nocking an arrow to the bowstring. “You can’t kill it.”

Your eyes narrowed, “So it is your pet.”

“No, but killing it won’t break my curse. That’s what I was trying to tell you before,” he threw his hands in the air.

Shocked, you let the bow slacken in your hands, staring at the man hanging out of the tower window, high above you. “What are you on about? A curse? I don’t do the magic stuff, pal.”

“You don’t need to. If you’d just listen for a moment,” he frowned down at you. “The only person who can break the curse and free me from this tower is one who will not harm that which they fear.”

“Well that’s wonderfully poetic,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Can you translate?”

“You can’t kill the dragon, are you dense?”

You ignored him in favor of watching the dragon. It still hadn’t moved, but you seriously doubted it was asleep. That probably meant it would only move if you showed any signs of aggression, and then you had no doubt you’d end up crispy. You returned the arrow to your quiver, stepping out of the treeline and approaching the creature, one slow step at a time.

Still, not a twitch. Stopping a good distance away, but far closer than was comfortable, you peered at its face. This close, you could see the sharpness of those fangs and claws, and while your mind was calm, nervous sweat sprung up. There was no stopping your body’s reaction to such an obvious predator.

“Hello,” you murmured.

Above you, Jimin abruptly stopped his rant. Apparently he hadn’t noticed you moving, and now he squawked in alarm, “What are you doing? Get out of there!”

To your terror and delight, the dragon cracked one eye open, but seemed content to look at you, unmoving.

“I’ve no intention of harming you. But I’ve come to negotiate on behalf of the travelers and townspeople.”

Now the dragon did move, blinking open both eyes and stretching its neck. It remained coiled around the tower, simply raising its head to get a better look at you. You breathed out a sigh of relief, every muscle twitching. State your terms. You jumped, surprised to hear a response, yet the dragon’s mouth did not shift. The creature’s deep and smoky voice seemed to appear directly in your mind, rather than any audible dialogue.

You cleared your throat, nerves threatening to close it. “No more killing people. They simply wish to travel on the road nearby, but there have been too many dead. They’re afraid.”

The dragon blinked, golden eyes shining. I cannot help their fear, but I do not kill for sport. I kill to defend that which I must protect.

“You’re only killing the ones trying to rescue this one?” you asked, incredulous. You pointed up at the man, who was pulling on his hair nervously.

I am defending myself. Is that not as nature intended? Those who attack me may be attacked in turn.

“So,” you started again. “You’re killing in self-defense, but you have to stay here to guard the tower. What happens if I take him out of the tower without attacking you? Will you stop me? Can you leave, then?”

Slowly, like ice melting, the dragon unwound from the tower, until a door was revealed at the base. The dragon sat back on its haunches, almost catlike. Be my guest. Once he has left the tower, I will no longer be bound to it. I would thank you for ending my task.

You gaped, then looked up at the prince. He stared down at you with a similar expression. “So you could have just left the tower whenever you damn pleased,” you growled at him.

“Don’t you think I tried that?” he barked back.

He could not, the dragon corrected you. His curse required you to come, to act exactly as you have.

“Fine. Thank you for your help,” you bowed to the dragon, ignoring the nerves that prickled with awareness. Despite the intelligent voice in your head, those were still very big claws. You kept one eye on the dragon as you approached the door to the tower, opening it with little resistance.

Peering inside, you sighed. Stairs. You hated stairs.

By the time you reached the top, nearly dizzy from the circular stairway, you were breathing hard. It was a tall freaking tower. Banging on the door, you waited. On the other side of it, you heard shuffling, and then a voice, “It’s locked.”

“I take it you don’t have a key,” you said.

“Again, don’t you think I’d have tried that?”

You grunted, peering at the lock. If you’d known about this, you would have brought your lockpicks with you. This asshole hadn’t told you about any locked doors. And if you had to climb back down all those stairs, you sure as hell weren’t coming up again. What the heck, you figured, reaching out to jiggle the handle.

And it opened.

On the other side of the door, a handsome face goggled at you in surprise. Warm brown eyes sparkled at you above the fullest, pinkest lips you’d ever seen. Sweeping locks of dark honey curled over his forehead, begging to be touched. Before you could get any more distracted, you forced yourself to assess him for threats. No way he was hiding any weapons beneath those velvet sleeves. Silk hose and tight trousers revealed mouth-watering thighs, but no blade prints. And…

“Are those slippers?” you asked, incredulous.

He kicked them off behind them. “No.”

You fought back a smile. “Do you have any weapons?”

That full mouth pursed, “No.”

“All alone up here and no weapons?”

He folded his arms. “What do you call the dragon, then?”

Now you did smile, a sharp glint of teeth. “I suppose you have me there. A very good weapon, that one.” You pushed past him and into the room, scanning it quickly.

“Maybe I meant the dragon was company,” the man muttered behind you.

A quick check in a few drawers, under some furniture, and along the tops of the door frames and window sills resulted in nothing but dust. You finally turned to the prince, satisfied that he was telling the truth. “Well? Are you going to pack or not?” you asked, gesturing to the copious amounts of...things.

His cheeks flushed. “Aren’t you at least going to ask my name, noble knight?” he snapped, the last two words sounding more like an insult than anything else.

Your grin widened, a giggle bubbling beneath your ribs. “Alright, flower boy, tell me.”

Those warm eyes turned cold, flashing in your direction. “I am Prince Jimin of Serendesia. And you are?”

Mouth still twitching, you tugged your helm from your head, knowing exactly how you looked. Helmet hair, your crown braid likely in absolute disarray, sweat dripping from your forehead, and likely a few indents where the helm rested on the bridge of your nose and cheeks. In short, a hot mess. “Your lucky break.”

“You’re not the knight I asked for,” he blinked at you, seeming somewhat shocked.

“I’m not a knight,” you said simply.

“Well then what are you? You’re wearing a sword and armor.”

“Any bastard with money or quick fingers can get those. But women can’t get kings to smack them on the shoulders with a title of Sir. So here we are,” you waved your arms. “Now, I believe I asked if you were going to pack? Because I’ll start heading down those stairs again in a minute, with or without you.”

“Definitely not the knight I expected,” Jimin muttered. “Well, what am I to call you? Unless you want me to come up with my own creative moniker.”

You smirked at him, offering up your name. He repeated it, watching you with an odd look. Then he leaped into action, procuring bags from who knows where. Jimin raced around, sliding on the flagstones in his stockinged feet, shoving various clothes and personal items into his packs.

“This book can go, this one has to stay,” he murmured under his breath. “Don’t need this, either.”

You leaned against the bed, content to watch the chaos unfold. “Don’t forget shoes.”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

“Would you like to change into something more practical for the journey ahead?”

“I thought I wasn’t coming with you,” he raised an eyebrow at you.

You shrugged. “Figured you wouldn’t want mud on that nice velvet. Plus, anyone you try to hire will rob you just as quick as help you, so long as you look like that.”

“Like what?”

“A rich damsel.”

“I’m not a damsel,” Jimin groused. But sure enough, he began searching for more practical clothing.

* * * * *

The dragon was gone when you both emerged from the tower. Jimin frowned, his plan ruined. He’d hoped to sweet talk the dragon into carrying him and his belongings home to Serendesia. Now...he eyed his belongings. He’d managed to convince you to carry a few—the heaviest, but he didn’t tell you that—with a sweet smile or two. Perhaps he could try to convince you to help him a bit more, since he had no idea where he was.

“No idea how you plan on carrying these with you,” you muttered, dropping the packs at his feet.

Jimin fluttered his lashes, adopting his best smile. He was rewarded with a slight flush on your cheeks. Pretty, he noted. “I must thank you for your help, but I’m afraid I must also beg for a bit more assistance—”

“Don’t even think about it. I told you, you’re on your own.”

Jimin pressed his lips together, considering. “I must repay you for rescuing me. Can’t I offer you anything to help carry my belongings to town, as well?”

“Do you even know where you’re going?” you asked, hands on your hips. You loomed over him, trying to appear intimidating. With the armor and the sword, he had to admit it was working. Just a bit. The way you carried yourself like you were seven feet tall...he bit his lip.

“Home, to my family. To Serendesia.”

“And where is that? North, south? Do you have any idea how to survive in the real world?” you waved a hand at him dismissively. “How long have you been stuck in that tower, anyway?”

Jimin frowned, face darkening at the memory of what happened all those years ago. “Years. I was cursed to remain in the tower just after my thirteenth birthday.”

“So you’re a virgin then.”

Jimin’s face caught on fire. He turned his back on you, torn between anger and some unfamiliar prickling feeling. “You don’t need to be so crass.”

“Sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities, princeling. I’ve been told I’m blunt as a practice blade. Just making an observation,” you said, then turned away to let loose an ear-piercing whistle. A few moments later, a horse emerged from the treeline. “What on earth did you do to stay busy for all those years?”

Jimin watched the horse prance over, refusing to look at you. “Read the same three books approximately a thousand times.”

You barked out a laugh, “Well, that’s one way, I suppose.” He watched you pat the horse in welcome, then begin strapping weapons to the saddlebags. Small strands of hair were escaping your braids, unruly curls looking like a halo in the sunlight.

“You never accepted my offer,” he said.

“Neither did I deny it. How much will you offer?”

Jimin smirked, “How much do you want?”

* * * * *

Stupid, stupid, stupid, you chanted to yourself. You glanced at Jimin from the corner of your eye, fighting the regret eating at your stomach. Why on earth had you said that? What kind of brute commented on the sexual history of a prince? You, apparently. You scoffed, disgusted with yourself.

You hadn’t given it any thought, surprise loosening your tongue better than any amount of liquor. Though you weren’t exactly known for being close-lipped. Perks of working alone—no one complained when you were too chatty. Cons included a tendency to talk to your horse for lack of other companions.

You’d been shocked to learn that Jimin had been locked in a tower at the same age you learned to wield a sword. You supposed the rough training had sharpened your combat skills, at the detriment of your social ones. Too much time in the mud had given you the gift of callous conversation.

Your fingers tightened on Cricket’s bridle, looking over your shoulder. The two of you were on foot, choosing to strap the majority of the packs to the saddle. The prince came with a lot of baggage. And not all of it was physical, you mused, eyeing him again.

Even after an hour or so of walking, he still had a look of wonder, reaching out to touch every damn thing they passed. At first, you’d snapped at him. Don’t touch that, it’s poisonous, you idiot. Then you’d realized how long it had been since his feet touched the ground. How isolated he had been, and for so long. You corrected him more gently after that.

Thoughts turning to the path ahead, you considered the plan. Jimin had only paid you to help him reach the town. Presumably he would continue on his own once he had a horse. With the number of bags he was bringing, he’d likely need two. Realistically speaking, he’d need a lot more than two horses if he wanted to get to Serendesia in one piece, but you shook off that train of thought before it could get you into any more trouble.

You eyed the lengthening shadows with a sigh—the journey back to town took longer on foot. You’d need to pick up the pace if you wanted to get there before nightfall. You looked back at Jimin again, but you couldn’t force the words from your lips. The knot of guilt in your stomach tightened, shutting down any barked commands to hurry up.

Before you could turn back to the road ahead, Jimin lifted his gaze to yours. And to your immense surprise, his full mouth turned up in the ghost of a smile. You blinked. Surely he hadn’t forgotten the horrible things you’d said—

An arrow whizzed past your face, cutting off your train of thought. You crouched and spun, reverse-tracking its trajectory. There, a stand of trees at the top of the ridge, excellent cover for whoever was out there. Which meant you’d need to find cover of your own before the archer’s aim improved.

You heard them before you saw them—figures racing down the hill towards you, weapons raised. Far enough that you had time, but not much.

“Get off the road,” you growled at Jimin, knowing you were exposed out here, at a definite disadvantage. You burst into action, grabbing your bow from the saddle and slinging the quiver over your back once more. Time to even the odds.

Jimin hesitated, wide-eyed, and you snarled, spurring him into movement at last. You directed Cricket into the trees, towards the cluster of rocks just ahead. Another arrow whizzed, farther off the mark this time, but close enough to make you swear. “Stay low,” you barked at Jimin, who ducked down as he ran.

Once you were all safely hidden behind the rock pile, you peered over it, eyeing the ragged group of men who ran out of the trees and onto the road. Moving with practiced speed, you strung your bow, putting an arrow to the string and another between your teeth. You rose onto your knees to take the shot, a calculated risk considering the enemy archer. The first man to fall was an absolute giant, an arrow to the throat. Your second shot found the eye of a man wielding two axes. The men scrambled, shocked to see their largest warriors fall. Hesitantly, they backed away to the other side of the road, waiting in the trees just out of sight.

You ducked back down behind the rocks just as a third enemy arrow thunked into the dirt a few feet away from you. You frowned at it. Surely if there was more than one mediocre archer, they’d have managed to fire more arrows than this. You eyed the ridge a bit more carefully. If you could pick off the archer, you could move in to take care of the rest. You’d be going in mostly blind, and without backup, but what other options did you have? Escape on foot was never a sure bet. Plus, Jimin would likely be dead weight. How much endurance could he have after living in a tower for over ten years?

You put another arrow to the string, keeping one eye on the ridge—you just needed the archer. You waited for the next shot to come, breathing patiently through your nose. When it did, clattering off the rocks to your left, you fired back between the pines at the top of the ridge. You sent two shots in quick succession, and were rewarded with a muffled wail. No more arrows came.

Blowing out a relieved breath, you crouched down again, your back to the rocks. Jimin was watching you with wide eyes. “I don’t think they have any more archers,” you informed him. “Can you shoot?”

He shook his head, mute. “I...I think I learned, when I was a boy, but I haven’t practiced since.”

You pursed your lips, watching as a few of the men on the other side of the road grew bold. Rising onto your knees, you took the shot. A man fell, and the rest retreated. They were wary now, knowing your aim, which meant you’d have to move in for the rest of them. No way around it. You set down the bow in favor of unsheathing your sword. “Well, shoddy aim or not, I only need you to look intimidating. Fire off a shot, let’s see what we’re working with, and remind them we’re armed.”

Jimin’s arrow flew straight, at the very least. But when he told you what he’d been aiming for, you grimaced. “Yep, just stand there and look tough,” you muttered. “Only fire when one of them gets impatient and tries crossing the road. Keep their eyes on you, not looking for me. Got it?” He gave you a tentative nod, and you grunted an affirmation. You double-checked the knives hidden in their various sheaths, then moved into the deepening shadows.

The sun had finally set beyond the horizon, but still left you enough light to pick your steps carefully through the brush. Out of sight of Jimin at last, you relaxed. This—jumping headfirst into unknown odds—was familiar. Dealing with a prince? Like walking on needles. You knew how to take care of yourself, had been doing it since you were a child, but looking after someone else?

As you stealthed through the trees, you forced your thoughts to turn to the fight ahead. You’d have plenty of time to worry over babysitting the prince. After settling the matter of these bandits.

You stopped a few horse-lengths behind the group, watching them. A quick count resulted in ten men, more than you’d like. As you watched, one of the men made a few gestures to the others, and two bandits peeled away. You marked him as the leader, made a note to take him first. The two men crept towards the road, coming up short when one of Jimin’s arrows hit the dirt at their feet.

Shit, you thought to yourself, fingers fumbling for two of the knives sheathed in your boots. Just as the men came to the conclusion that Jimin wasn’t such a good shot after all, and started to run across the road, your knives sailed through the air. You got one squarely in the back, but the other merely grazed a leg. He stumbled, and you mouthed a curse, moving from tree to tree. You palmed two more knives and waited a moment.

Hollers sounded, and half of the remaining men rushed for the tree you’d been at before. When they passed your hiding place, you took your shot, firing both knives at the leader. He choked on his surprise, as well as your blades.

The group below stared at their dead leader in shock, unsure what to do. You smiled grimly—you’d always believed in eliminating leadership first, it made their followers uneasy, more likely to surrender or run. Unfortunately, the others had finally spotted you, and they had no such hesitation. You unsheathed the sword at your side.

The first man to reach you carried a large axe, and on the upswing, you darted forward, sinking your blade into his armpit—left exposed by the gap in his scant armor. He fell with a gasp, and you spun around to face the others. The remaining three attacked as a group, making matters more difficult. One of them carried a spear, and you were forced to dance away rather than be skewered. Worse, you could hear the group at the base of the hill beginning their ascent.

With a snarl, you lunged for the spearman, using your blade to deflect his instinctive sweep. Your arm strained to hold the spear up and away as you got inside his guard. One of your many hidden knives found a new home in his side, and then you were twisting away from him as he fell.

The two with swords attacked, battle cries echoed by the group still climbing the hill at your back. You dodged, conserving energy rather than attempting to block the wild swings. Finally, you were forced to engage, and engage you did. The forest rang with the clashing of blades. While it wasn’t hard to hold off the two fighters, you needed to press your advantage, rather than be overrun by the approaching group.

You crossed blades with one after measuring his swings. Sloppy, you noted, then proceeded to wrench the sword from his grasp with a tricky maneuver—one you’d learned from a mercenary just a few months ago. That was when the other man moved, taking advantage the second you took your eyes off him. Dull pain throbbed from your right arm, where he’d somehow found the gap in your armor. Ignoring it, you dodged his next thrust, then darted to the side to coldcock his fellow, who had been attempting to retrieve his fallen weapon. The man dropped like a stone, and you stepped around him. You kept your eye on the swordsman left standing, plus the last three bandits, who had arrived at last.

You were breathing more heavily, but were still alert. The bandits, on the other hand, looked spooked and more than a little wary. Adopting a more critical eye, you inspected their appearances, now that the fighting had paused. Definitely bandits, judging from the poor condition of their clothes and weapons, and the gaunt set of their cheeks.

“If you surrender, you’ll live to face local justice,” you offered. You were fairly sure you had rope in your packs somewhere. You could bind them and bring them to town to the magistrate, rather than leave them to attack the next passersby.

“I’ll no’ surrender to a woman,” one of them spat at your feet. He rushed forward, sword raised. You watched him approach, then turned smoothly out of his path and to the side. With his momentum, he couldn’t change course. He also couldn’t avoid it when your leg unfurled, a kick snapping out and into the side of his knee. He collapsed in a heap, a wail escaping his throat.

The last men dropped their weapons. Smart of them.

“Jimin,” you called down the ridge. “Go into my packs and find rope. We’ll need a lot of it.”

* * * * *

The going had been even slower after that. All of you on foot in the dark, Jimin flagging due to being locked in a room for a decade, and the bandits due to being malnourished and in ill health. Admittedly, two of them were injured, one fellow glaring at you while he limped along. But still. You were the only one with anywhere near a serious injury, and yet somehow the only one with energy by the time you’d reached the town. Since the going was so slow, you were able to tie a bandage around your upper arm while you trudged along the road. You resolved to look at it later, when you weren’t towing five bandits along.

At least the guards at the gate had been helpful. They sent one of their own with you as a guide, but also to help protect the prisoners. In areas like these, bandits were often kin. An uncle, a brother, who had hit hard times and chosen the only path he saw left to him. You accepted the help, not wanting to be the only person between an angry mob and their loved ones if it came to that.

You gazed longingly at the inn as you passed it, but carried on with your first task—delivering the bandits to the captain of the guard, and straight into a cell where they could await trial. You refused any reward, but the town headman insisted he at least pay for your supper. And, well, how could you refuse that?

At long last, you sat down at a crooked table in the inn, a hot bowl of stew steaming beneath your nose. Beside you, Jimin was already digging in. He must’ve been starving, since he’d abandoned all princely decorum. You snorted, remembering how he’d nibbled delicately on the apple you offered him, refusing the jerky altogether.

The two of you practically inhaled the stew. You ignored the twinge of pain tugging at your arm when you picked up Jimin’s bowl as well as your own. You gestured for him to stay seated while you returned the dishes. The barmaid squawked, snatching them from your hands when she saw you. You let her, changing course for the innkeeper instead.

“How can I help ye?” the man grunted, looking you up and down with the keen eye of a businessman. You knew he probably wasn’t impressed. Mud-flecked armor, bloody bandages, and likely a trail of road dust behind you. You looked like a mercenary out of work...and out of money. When you inquired about lodging for you and a guest, the man spat on the floor. “I’ve the barn outside, but no rooms available.”

You sighed, reaching for your belt purse. Jimin hadn’t balked at the price you demanded to escort him to town, even if it was a somewhat ridiculous sum. You’d earned it, you supposed, considering the bandit attack. So now you didn’t hesitate to pull out a gold piece, flashing it at the innkeeper discreetly. “Not even a single room?” you asked innocently.

The man blinked at you, likely wondering how on earth you’d come to have gold in your possession, before realizing he likely didn’t want to know. He smiled brightly, extending his arms in welcome. “Ah, of course, I’d forgotten one on the top floor. Our previous guest left this morning, so it’s probably cleaned by now.”

“I’d prefer two rooms, but my companion and I can make do with one,” you conceded, passing the gold piece to him. “We’ll take hot water for a bath, as well.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll send Mary up,” he assured you, waving at the woman who emerged from the kitchens.

“Can you also send up fresh linen bandages and a bowl of hot water?”

His eyes went to your bloody arm. “That as well.” Mary nodded and disappeared.

While the maid carried supplies, you went to retrieve Jimin and your packs. You found him fluttering his lashes at the serving girl, completely oblivious to the tavern full of watching eyes. Even after changing out of his fancy velvet and into simpler attire, he didn’t fit in. You could practically smell the nobility on him, or at least the money. And from the looks of it, so could everyone else. You swooped down, curling a fist into his collar as you hauled him to his feet. Jimin yelped, arms flailing slightly before you released him. “Let’s go,” you murmured, keeping one eye on the room. Resting a hand on the hilt of your sword, you narrowed your gaze at the vultures. Let them think twice before bothering you. You only released the blade to grab your pack, jerking your head at Jimin to do the same.

Jimin grumbled, but allowed you to lead him out of the room and up the stairs. On the top floor, the maid from earlier waited at an open door. She smiled timidly, “We hauled a tub up, the bath is ready, milady.”

“You have my thanks,” you said, bowing your head slightly. She looked shocked when you pressed a gold piece into her palm. “You’ll do well not to mention that to anyone,” you advised, then turned, shouldering through the doorway with your bag.

Once the door was closed behind you, Jimin spoke, “You were nicer to her than to me, and I’m the one paying you.”

“That’s because you were born with gold in one fist and power in the other. We women have to stick together. And this is a mud-heap. She’d be smart to get out of it.”

Jimin threw his hands in the air, “So all that gold you haggled over, you’re just going to hand it out?”

“I’ll do whatever I want with it. It’s my gold now, isn’t it?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

Jimin simply sighed, dropping his pack on the floor. “Only one room?”

“Best I could do.”

“Where are we going to sleep?”

You lifted both eyebrows now. “The bed. Are you daft?”

Jimin blushed furiously. “In the same bed?” You simply blinked back at him. He sniffed, attempting to cover up some emotion. “Well, perhaps I don’t trust you, and wish to protect my virtue, as you so kindly pointed out.”

“I can sleep on the floor, or you can, if you prefer. I’ll call Mary for blankets,” you offered.

His flush didn’t fade, and his gaze remained rooted to the floorboards. “I’ll bathe privately, too.”

You sighed, not bothering to argue. Silently, you gathered up the bandages Mary had left on the bed, plus the bowl of warm water. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” you said softly. You didn’t give him a chance to respond, closing the door behind you before he could do more than gape at you.

You waited until you heard the lock click, and then went to sit on the steps. Your room was the only one on the floor, an awkward room with horrible rooflines, but it meant you had no neighbors. And now, it meant you could guard the room from here, as no one had any reason to ascend the steps unless they meant harm.

With a grunt, you thumped down on the first step and started unbuckling armor pieces. You removed the arm guard and shoulder piece from your injured arm, leaving the rest in place for later. You took your time, unwinding the bloody wrap slowly, listening to the faint sounds of splashing from the room behind you. You were still cleaning the wound, dabbing carefully with wet linen, when the lock unlatched.

“What?” you demanded, setting down the cloth in favor of picking up the dry bandages.

“I’m done,” he said, quiet. And then a gasp. “I didn’t realize you were injured.”

“Well, I was,” you bit back a curse as you attempted to wrap a new bandage one handed. How you’d managed it the first time was a mystery.

Fingers appeared at your side, taking the bandage from you. “You might as well leave it until after you’ve washed,” Jimin said, picking up the bowl as well.

It wasn’t bleeding much, you noted. And he had a point. You nodded, heaving back onto your feet and following him inside. You didn’t wait for him to leave, simply started unbuckling the armor. Much to your surprise, Jimin began helping you, setting metal and leather pieces aside. When you were left in plainclothes, you moved to take your shirt off. Jimin coughed, backing away from you. “I’ll, uh, leave you to it.”

“Fine,” you murmured, too exhausted to care as you carefully slid the blouse off. Jimin’s eyes were completely closed now, and you watched him feel his way along the wall to the door, a smile teasing at your lips. “Don’t go downstairs. I’d hate for you to get robbed while I’m busy.”

“Yes, absolutely, perfect. I’ll uh, be right outside. Just call if you need help, or anything,” he stumbled and stammered until he finally managed to close the door between you.

Now you did smile, the barest chuckle escaping you as you continued to undress. You didn’t hesitate to slide into the water and begin scrubbing the grime from your skin. The water was lukewarm by now, but it was a blessing to get the road dust off of you.

You were much faster than Jimin was, and opened the door a few minutes later, mostly dressed in fresh clothes. “Can you help with the bandage?”

Jimin was a bit tentative, but ended up sitting on the bed beside you, hands gentle as he tied off the linen strips. “Done. And before I forget, thank you again. For helping me,” he said softly.

You slid the shirt back up over your shoulder, buttoning the last button. “No problem. I’ll get those blankets from Mary, and I’ll take the floor,” you told him. “I’ll likely wake with the dawn, and I’ll leave soon after. You’ll have the room to yourself then.”

He opened his mouth, but closed it again before saying anything. You simply nodded and left to find that extra bedding.

* * * * *

You woke abruptly, the room still shrouded in darkness. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you sat up slowly, ears pricked to identify what had woken you. Then you heard it—footsteps on the stairs.

Without wasting a breath, you rolled to your feet, shaking Jimin awake. He groaned softly, and you clapped a hand on his mouth to quiet him. His eyes flew open, looking a bit panicked. You bent to his ear, “Footsteps on the stairs. Hide behind the bed.”

He nodded, and you grabbed your knives, palming one in each hand. In this tiny space, your sword would just be in the way. And besides, you wanted to scare the piss out of whoever this was.

You slunk into the tiny space next to the door, waiting patiently in the gap that would be left beside the wall once the intruders opened the door. They fumbled with the lock, obviously inept but trying their best to be quick and quiet. When it finally opened, you held your breath.

Slowly, the door swung inwards, and two men crept in on catlike feet. Peering into the gap of the doorjamb, you didn’t see any others lingering in the hall. Just these two then, come to pluck the ripe plum—rich boy Jimin. They paused, puzzling over the two lumps of bedding. You took the opportunity to sneak up behind one, only revealing your presence through two pinpricks—a blade at the small of his back and another at his throat. “Hello there,” you purred, kicking the door shut behind you.

The other man whirled, only to freeze at the sight of his friend in your grip.

“Now, I’ve no interest in spilling blood on my clean clothes, so why don’t you develop a case of amnesia and forget whatever you came for, hmm?” you offered.

The second man backed away slowly, hands outstretched in front of him. Placating you? You frowned. “Please, we’ll go,” he started mumbling, still backing away. Your frown deepened. He was heading farther away from the door.

Too late, you realized he was rounding the bed, and he caught sight of Jimin with a triumphant cry. Jimin scrambled to his feet as the man reached for him. You cursed, tightening your grip on the blades, only to watch as Jimin turned and neatly tossed the man over his hip and into the wall.

You gaped at him. Jimin didn’t even spare you a glance, keeping his eyes on his opponent. Fortunately, the man seemed just as stunned, and didn’t appear to want to put up any more of a fight. “Get out,” Jimin said darkly.

The man scrambled away, and you let your knives fall, shoving the second man after him. They fumbled to get the door open and shut, and clattered down the stairs in a rush. You locked the door, then turned to look at Jimin again, still shocked. And more than a little impressed. If you hadn’t known what to look for, you might have missed the expert way he’d redirected his opponent’s momentum.

“How?”

He shrugged, flopping back on the bed and settling himself under the blankets as if nothing had happened. “Just another thing I did to stay busy all those years,” he said, turning over.

You paused for a moment, considering him. “Who taught you?”

Jimin sighed, “When I was young, I learned from a master of hand-to-hand combat.” You let the silence sit, waiting for more information. Jimin seemed to understand your intention, and he finally indulged you. “He was traveling through the area, and my father hired him to instruct me for a year.”

“Only a year?”

“My father paid for more instructors, a different teacher every year, until the curse.”

And then he must have practiced. Alone in that tower for ten years, with hardly anything else to do? You bet he practiced every single day.

You sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring Jimin’s glare as you leaned forward. “Teach me.”

Now Jimin stopped pretending to sleep, and he sat up to face you. “What?”

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go, guard you all the way to the edge of the continent and back. But please, teach me everything you know,” you clasped your hands together, trying to contain your excitement.

Jimin watched you for a moment. “Alright, you’re hired. But only if you teach me cool knife stuff,” he said with a small smile.

Your responding grin was bright, and his eyes widened slightly at the sight. When you offered your hand, he shook it firmly. “It’s a deal, prince.”

“Jimin,” he murmured, releasing your hand. “Call me Jimin.”

* * * * *

You left the inn before dawn. After the rude awakening, neither one of you could fall back asleep, unsure if any other patrons would try their luck. Tired of traveling on foot, you paid the innkeeper for two spare horses and tack, and also his silence. You had no desire to be followed. When you stopped to water the horses after a few hours, you asked Jimin to spar.

The sun was warm on the back of your neck, just enough to offset the late morning chill. You admired the blue of the sky from your breathless state, flat on the ground. You’d lost count of how many times you had hit the dirt, but rolled back to your feet nonetheless. “Again.”

“I think you’re just about done,” Jimin started.

You cut him off, “Again.” Your voice was firm, and you motioned for him to attack once more. With a sigh, he complied. You had a good grasp of hand-to-hand combat, thanks to a childhood spent throwing yourself into fistfights until you stopped losing them. But you still found yourself hopelessly outmatched.

This time, when you flew over his shoulder, you had to admit you’d had enough time in the air for one day. You thumped the ground as you landed, smacking the dirt with both arms to lessen the impact. And when Jimin walked over, extending a hand to help you up, you let him. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled wryly, “Not many people thank me for throwing them all over the place.”

“Not many people learn from defeat. I’ve been doing it all my life,” you told him, stretching out your back. “And besides, it’s good practice. I was afraid I’d forgotten how to fall,” you smirked.

Jimin blinked at you, “Was that...a joke?”

You shrugged, brushing the dust from your pants. “Yes, of course. I fell so much as a kid, I doubt I could forget.” The two of you ambled back to the shade, fetching water from the saddlebags. Cricket eyed you, snorting disdainfully at your disheveled appearance. You frowned, plucking a twig from your braid. “I know he’s better than me, no need to rub it in,” you muttered to the horse.

“You’re better at just about everything else, though,” Jimin remarked. You fought back embarrassment—apparently he heard you. “When did you start training? And if you’re not a knight,” he referred back to your remarks in the tower, “Then what exactly are you? You never answered my question before.”

You shifted on your feet, fingers absently picking at a bit of leather. “I suppose I started learning how to fight when I was eight or so, but I’d been watching warriors since I was a babe.”

“Eight,” Jimin gasped. “Who trained you?”

“Anyone I could annoy enough into fighting me,” you said with a wry smile. “I wasn’t allowed to train in the usual way, to become a knight. Women aren’t, where I come from,” you explained. “So I found another way.”

“You probably fell quite a lot if you learned by fighting anyone and everyone,” he laughed a bit, then sobered. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

You shrugged, half turning away from him. “It wasn’t hard at all. The hard part was training for so many years, and still getting turned down in the end. So that’s why I’m not a knight. I never got smacked with a sword by a king.” Jimin tilted his head, opening his mouth to say something else, but you cut him off by swinging up into the saddle again. “Let’s go, the horses have rested long enough.”

Jimin looked like he wanted to argue, but you nudged Cricket into a walk, forcing him to keep up or be left behind. Even so, you could feel his eyes on your back. He must have noticed your careful evasion. You supposed you could only avoid your past for so long before someone came knocking. Still, you weren’t quite ready to open that door, so you picked up the pace.

Some stories weren’t meant for strangers.

* * * * *

Jimin couldn’t stop watching you. He’d spent the majority of the day trailing behind you, unwilling to voice his discomfort at being in the saddle for hours despite not having ridden a horse in over ten years. He was bound to get saddle sore, but hated the thought of your disappointment. And for what? Now his ass really hurt, and his thighs, and probably every muscle between his toes and his ears. And to top it all off, it was getting dark, and you were nowhere near any sort of town. He had a sinking feeling you would be camping the night, and his back groaned at the thought of lying on the ground.

But despite all the aches and pains, he couldn’t stop watching you. Or maybe it was because of the misery. He told himself it was boredom. Nothing but trees and your armored back ahead of him. What else was he supposed to look at?

Jimin also couldn’t stop thinking about your story. You hadn’t offered much information, but the gaps left behind said more than you realized. He wondered what you would say if he tried to get you knighted. Would you thank him or beat him into the dust? He found himself unsure which he’d prefer, and shook away the thought, discomfited.

“I’ve come this way before, there’s an old hunting shack close by, and we can stay the night there. It’s long abandoned, and out of season anyway. Should be safe enough,” you called over your shoulder.

But when you arrived at the shack, you found it in horrible disrepair. Half of the roof was missing, drooping sadly from rotted wood. “Camping it is, then,” he said, trying to sound cheerful.

You cut a look at him, and Jimin could have sworn you were smiling. But when he turned to look at you fully, you were all business, reaching for the saddlebags.

“I got a spare bedroll from the inn. Here,” you tossed it to him.

Jimin watched, frozen in his uncertainty, as you briskly cleared the area of any sticks and branches, gathering them into a pile. “Can I help?” he asked, not wanting to get in the way.

You looked up at the sky, pursing your lips. “It shouldn’t rain tonight,” you murmured. “But the nights get cold, so we’ll build a fire. I’ve got enough to start, but can you find some larger branches?”

He hesitated, not quite sure what to make of that. Or rather, the lack of biting remarks. “Why are you behaving differently around me?” he finally asked, echoing your tendency towards bluntness. He could admit it was a relief to simply say what he meant outright, rather than dancing around the question for several minutes. Even so, he chewed on his next words before mustering the courage to speak them. “I don’t want you to kiss my ass just because I have real value to you now, with the sparring and such.”

For a moment, you stared up at him, still crouched over the kindling. Then you burst out laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m sorry,” you managed to get out. “You’ve just been so proper.”

He tightened his jaw, “I’m serious.”

You rubbed a hand over your mouth, rocking back to sit on the grass. “Well,” you began, then stopped. “First I should apologize. I treated you like a spoiled prince, and you aren’t one. Or at least, not much of one. But it was wrong of me to assume anything about you.”

Jimin frowned, more than a bit miffed at her assessment, but he could admit that he wasn’t prepared for many aspects of life outside of the tower. And not all of that could be attributed to the curse, he supposed.

“Your ability hasn’t made you more valuable to me—you’ve paid me more than enough. But it made me realize I was judging you wrongly. I shouldn’t let my opinions affect my behavior.” You absently fiddled with a twig as you spoke, “I don’t exactly think very highly of royalty.”

Jimin thumped down into the grass inelegantly. “I gathered that,” he said wryly. “I believe you called me a ‘rich damsel’.”

You smirked, then wiped the expression away. “You hadn’t exactly given me any reason to believe otherwise,” you explained.

Jimin snorted, ignoring the absolute lack of manners in the action. You certainly didn’t mind if he behaved like a prince. In fact, it seemed like you preferred it when he didn’t. “So my lovely display this morning changed that,” he guessed.

“I’m the only—” you started, then stopped abruptly. “I’m used to being the only capable one in the room, I guess,” you tried again.

He ignored that comment, recognizing it for the cover up it was. He could read the room, er, clearing. You were hiding something, but he wasn’t going to push….much. “Is this something to do with the king who wouldn’t knight you? Family troubles? Regretting leaving behind your cushy life and ball gowns?”

“How did you—?”

“Only nobility can pursue a knighthood, in all of the kingdoms I know of. But aside from that, you speak too formally when you’re not thinking about it.” You blinked at him, and he could practically see you scrambling for an explanation. He chuckled, leaning back on his hands in the grass. “You did your best to shock me at first.”

You frowned, looking down at the kindling as you slowly got back to your feet. “I’m sorry for that, too,” you apologized. “I was out of line, and shouldn’t have said that. It was...unbecoming of me.”

“It was. But I accept your apology,” he said, tilting his head back to keep his eyes on you. Were you blushing?

He was going to make a joke, but decided against it when he saw your troubled expression. Jimin watched emotions play across your face as you lost yourself in thought. “I don’t regret my choice. If anything, I’m….afraid of what might have been, had I not followed this path.”

Perhaps that was it. You saw that narrowly missed future when you looked at him. No wonder you’d done your best to distance yourself. He opted for humor to erase the haunted look in your eyes. “I might have only met you yesterday, but I do get the sense that you’re a control freak.”

To his relief, your mouth twitched into a shadow of a smile. “I am that,” you conceded, finally meeting his gaze. Your eyes softened, and he smiled back. Clearing your throat, you pointed to the woods, “I believe you volunteered to find firewood.”

Jimin rolled his eyes and heaved back onto his feet obediently. “Yes, my lady,” he joked. The muffled sound of your laughter followed him, and the smile stayed on his face for quite a while.

Until, of course, he managed to get a splinter in his thumb. Then he discovered the enormous grass stains on his trousers. And as if that wasn’t enough, he had to eat some unidentifiable gruel for dinner, as you had no access to a kitchen. Jimin decided he didn’t want to know what he was eating, and you didn’t offer. Rather, you’d been stifling giggles the entire evening. Perhaps he’d be happier about it if he wasn’t the brunt of the joke.

Finally, after experiencing all the disappointments camping had to offer, he was allowed to sleep. On a thin mat. On top of tree roots. When he complained, you’d simply suggested that he move the bed roll. Only there seemed to be roots everywhere. He had no idea how you were comfortable, since he couldn’t stop tossing and turning. He missed his bed in the tower, not that he ever expected to miss the damned place. He even missed the lumpy bed at the inn. Anything was better than this.

Sighing, Jimin turned over again, wiggling in search of some small gap of comfort. He heard your faint snort, and sat up, indignant. “Don’t laugh at me, this is horrid,” he snapped.

“Think of something pleasant,” you suggested. Probably another joke, he grumbled.

“I can’t think of anything pleasant,” he announced, flopping onto his back. Then he winced, having landed on that evil root again.

“No happy childhood memories? Not even anything fun from the tower?”

He scoffed. “My childhood resulted in me being banished to a magic tower, I hardly think it was pleasant.”

You hummed, and he turned his head to look at you. It was a half moon, just bright enough to illuminate your features, turned up to the stars. “What’s that story, then? How did you end up being guarded by a dragon?”

Jimin sighed, wanting anything but this conversation. He hadn’t yet come to terms with what it meant that he’d broken the curse. Hadn’t yet forgiven himself, or his family. Should he even return home? Was it truly home anymore?

“Before everything went to shit, I loved my family,” you murmured. “My older sisters and brothers were wonderful, they didn’t get annoyed when I wouldn’t stop following them around. Well, I suppose I only followed my sisters for a while. The talk of dresses and marriage was boring. But I loved watching my brothers spar.” You chuckled, “One memorable occasion, my eldest brother made me a small wooden practice sword, thinking it would be a nice gift for my fifth birthday.”

“Five years of age? And he gave you a sword?” Jimin asked, incredulous.

“A wooden practice sword, hardly able to do any damage. And it was half the size of his, since I was so small,” you corrected. “He came to regret it, though. I promptly spent all of my free time whacking my siblings in the shins. They grew quite adept at dodging, however. To this day, I imagine you’ll never be able to sweep their legs. They jump quite instinctively.”

Despite the dark cloud of his own family, Jimin found himself smiling. “I don’t believe any of them will thank you for that training,” he drawled.

“No, I don’t imagine they will. I haven’t seen any of them since I left, when I turned eighteen.”

Jimin blinked, surprised. “Did they cast you out for pursuing your knighthood?” he asked, then bit his tongue. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry—”

“No,” you cut him off, waving a hand to dismiss his apology. “I left because my father refused to grant...to let me earn my shield. There was nothing left for me there but a marriage I didn’t want, clothes I’d rather burn, and a family that refused to believe in my dream.”

“Will you ever go back?”

“Never.”

The silence was heavier now, both of you lost in bitter memories. “I was cursed to live in the tower to save my mother’s life,” he blurted out, wanting to offer up some kernel of truth. He had the feeling you wouldn’t judge him for it.

“What kind of witch would even...?” you muttered, turning to face him slightly.

He snorted, “Apparently she was being kind. The deal was simple, she asked for a price, and my father agreed to anything she wanted. Turns out she didn’t want much, just to teach him a lesson.”

“What did he do, turn her down for a dance?” you asked, baffled.

He smiled humorlessly, “I’ve no idea, but she managed to fool him handily. He ended up exchanging my freedom to cure her illness.” Jimin still couldn’t believe his father had agreed to give up the life of one precious to you. Fortunately for Jimin, the witch hadn’t actually killed him. “It was pure luck that she was happy locking me away, calling my captivity a half-life to balance the scales. My being in a tower kept my mother alive, but only barely. She’s been in a deep sleep ever since the curse began.”

You were gaping at him now. “What the hell was your father thinking?”

“He wasn’t.”

You grumbled, “He’s a fool to bargain with a witch, and an even bigger one to agree to her demands. But I’m sure he’s a fool who will be happy to see you safely returned. I suppose it’s a good thing I came along when I did, or you might’ve been stuck, both of you cursed, for who knows how much longer.”

Jimin tried to swallow the words, but still they escaped, “She’s dead.”

Now it was your turn to blink at him in confusion. “How on earth do you know that?”

“The curse. Our lives were tied.” He turned over, unable to look at you. He bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. How could he reveal all of this to you?

“So now that you’re free…?”

His eyes burned, and he squeezed them shut against regret. “So is she,” Jimin whispered.

* * * * *

The going was slow. With Jimin fresh from a tower for so many years, you made sure to slow your pace, but still caught him grimacing every time he slid from the saddle. By the end of the first week, he’d stopped flinching so much, but you found yourself reluctant to speed up. The two of you hadn’t spoken about his curse since that night, but you’d had plenty of quiet hours on the road to contemplate his situation.

If your freedom resulted in the death of your mother, you supposed you’d be torn between relief at escaping the tower and guilt for being so happy. You figured the least you could do was attempt to distract him. So the sparring continued, in addition to the promised knife practice. Jimin was fascinated by the skills you’d picked up over the years, and he was particularly taken with the flips you’d learned from a knife-thrower in the southern isles. A con man, now rotting in prison by your hand, but you didn’t tell him that part.

During one such practice, you were teaching Jimin the elements of close-quarters knife fighting when he suddenly exclaimed, “It’s like dancing.”

You blinked, taken aback. But he had a point. You grunted your agreement, priming yourself to demonstrate again, but Jimin didn’t take his stance. He had a distant expression again, one that made you wary of asking too many questions. But this time, his eyes weren’t as haunted, not as empty. “You’ve been picking up on this very quickly, are you a dancer?” you ventured.

Jimin shook his head slowly. “I was.”

He still hadn’t moved, so you nodded and sheathed the knives, ending the practice for the day. “I was utter shit on the dance floor,” you confessed. You weren’t quite sure what you were hoping for with this conversation.

Jimin’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “I find that hard to believe. You move like a dancer.”

“Only when I’m trying to kill people,” you joked.

Jimin hummed, staring off into the distance now. “I used to love it. Still do, I suppose. But I forget all the old dances. The partnered ones.”

You shrugged, “Me, too. I always found somewhere to hide when the dance instructor would come.”

That got a laugh out of him, but Jimin quickly sobered. “I’m going to make a fool of myself when I return. They’ll throw a grand ball, and I’ll trip over my own feet.”

“The prodigal son returns, no one’s going to be paying attention to your dance moves,” you said.

“They will if my father busies himself trying to match me with some eligible bride,” Jimin muttered.

You couldn’t help but grin. “Are you that nervous of embarrassing yourself in front of a few rich girls?”

“I’m worried about embarrassing myself in front of my entire kingdom,” Jimin snarked back.

Chortling, you unpacked your canteen and took a swig. “They’ll likely all be distracted by your pretty face, you have nothing to worry about.” But something in you twisted, and you found yourself making an offer you never would have considered before. “I don’t remember much, but I’m happy to help you jog your memory.”

Jimin gaped at you for a moment, as if unable to process the words. Understandable; you were still coming to terms with them yourself. Had you really just offered yourself up as a dance partner?

“Are you sure?” he asked.

No, not at all. “Happy to help.”

You were stiff as a board as Jimin approached, slowly, as if you were a skittish horse. “Start simple, right? With a waltz?” he suggested.

You made yourself nod, lifting your arms to what you faintly remembered to be the proper positions. Jimin slotted himself into place, one hand ghosting over your waist, the other linking with yours.

He was so close, you could count his eyelashes. But he didn’t meet your gaze, focusing on the correct step pattern instead. “One, two, three,” he chanted, and then you were off. Stumbling and stilted, but moving in a way that could be called a dance. Almost.

You found yourself stifling a laugh, because Jimin’s face was drawn and serious, but you couldn’t move smoothly to save your life. The whole thing was just so awkward, and your feet didn’t remember the steps at all. Finally, Jimin looked up and met your eyes.

The laugh ground to a halt in your throat, and you blinked rapidly. Why were your palms suddenly sweaty? And were his eyes sparkling more than usual? His lips were definitely pinker up close. You fought the heat that threatened your cheeks.

Now Jimin was the one smiling, his tentative touch turning more sure as he pulled you closer. “Trust me,” he murmured, holding you tighter as he turned you.

And to your surprise, you did. Somewhere along the line, between the late night talks and the banter in the saddle, Jimin had grown on you. Enough so that you mostly forgot he was a prince. Instead he was just a person. A kind, talented, funny, selfless person. Someone who made you ashamed on occasion, because you’d been alone for so many years, it felt like you’d forgotten how to be around others. And he was the one who’d been trapped in a tower. You’d been out in the world, in the thick of things. Though you supposed your usual company didn’t always make for polite conversations. Hard to discuss the possibilities of the future with grizzled mercenaries who were more often drunk than sober.

Worse than all that, you realized you’d miss him. For the first time, you had a traveling companion—the occasional prisoners you dragged along with you never counted. But this...the laughter and smiles and helping hands. Somehow he’d become your friend. Your first friend since leaving home, if you were being honest with yourself.

So yes, you trusted him. You let him turn you in his arms, let your feet follow his. For the first time, you trusted someone else to hold you up, instead of holding the whole world by yourself. And it felt good.

* * * * *

The castle came into view the next day, and you may or may not have slowed the pace even further, wanting to drag out the end. Because Jimin would stay here, and you would move on like always. Always another road to take, another person to save, another bounty to collect.

But eventually, no matter how slow you walked onwards, you reached your destination. The horses’ hoofbeats rang out, echoing off the stone of the castle courtyard. The guards had let you pass, all of them watching Jimin like he was a ghost. You supposed he was, some specter of the past, but also a reminder of the queen. Black banners billowed in the windows—the kingdom was still mourning. If Jimin was correct about the curse, then it hadn’t been long since her passing. You’d only been traveling for a few weeks. Some people mourned for years.

Jimin shot you a look, tinged with panic, before he swung down from the saddle. He moved like a natural, now. You smiled briefly. Then two guards approached, flanking a short man in a pretty tunic. Wiping the expression, you turned to face them.

But the man ignored you in favor of his long-lost prince. To be expected. “Your Highness,” the man descended into a deep bow. “The King has been notified of your return.”

“How is—” Jimin began, but appeared to second-guess his words. “Is he well?”

“The King is still in mourning.” Well. That was a very carefully worded response. You eyed Jimin carefully, sure he noticed the same thing.

Jimin squared his shoulders, “Take me to him.”

The man blinked, “Do you not wish to settle into your rooms, to bathe—”

“Now, please.”

Appearing to remember that Jimin was, in fact, the prince, the man stopped arguing. “And what about your….traveling companion?”

Apparently, he hadn’t given much thought to the details of his homecoming, because Jimin looked even more uncertain than he had before. “Would you—could you perhaps,” he stumbled.

“I can stay as long as you’d like,” you offered. You ignored the voice in your head that warned against a prolonged stay at court, even if no one knew who you were. You weren’t at home amongst the jewels and deception, and you never would be. But for your friend, you would grit your teeth and bear the incredulous looks. The same look on the man in front of you, clearly wondering who you were and why Jimin wanted you for anything at all.

“Very well, I will have a room prepared. If you will follow me, your Highness.”

You watched the pair walk through the doors of the palace, knowing that Jimin was shouldering a greater burden than anyone realized. Because as he passed beneath the black banners, you knew he was taking on every ounce of guilt for his mother’s death. You hoped he could withstand the weight.

* * * * *

Jimin tried to control his breathing, to stop feeling like each step was heading to the gallows. He should be excited to be home, but every time they turned a corner, he saw more and more signs of mourning.

He stopped completely when he found his mother’s portrait beneath a dark shroud.

Even Hammond—still his father’s steward after so many years—was subdued. “Your Highness,” he murmured.

Even with prompting, Jimin’s feet dragged. Hammond led the way to his father’s private office, tucked into the family wing.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his father. It had only been a few years, but he looked as if a century had passed. Lines cut deep into his face, dragging him down into his seat behind the enormous wooden desk. His shoulders were hunched, rounded and soft. He looked frail, and whether it was age or grief was unclear.

“My son.” The king stood abruptly, then sat back down. “My son,” he said again, voice now hoarse.

Jimin walked into the room, scarcely noticing when Hammond closed the door behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came to his lips. What could he possibly say? All those nights on the road spent planning this moment, and he still couldn’t form a response. Jimin bent his head, unable to look at him.

“I am so glad you are home.” The breath froze in Jimin’s lungs. “And I am sorry that I am the reason you left.”

The room blurred, tears clouding Jimin’s vision. “Father, I’m sorry—” he choked.

“No. Do not apologize for something that was never your fault. You have no blame to bear.” Now his father rose again, walking around the desk. And though he looked different, his hands felt the same when they clasped Jimin’s shoulders. “I erred by letting you go, and I have never stopped regretting that mistake. Please…forgive me.”

Jimin simply sobbed and let his father pull him close.

* * * * *

The guest quarters were the largest you’d seen in years, and you took a long and luxurious bath to pass the time. When you emerged from the water, smelling more like a rose than a traveling mercenary, a maid entered the room with a bundle of fabric.

“What’s all this, then?”

The woman bobbed a curtsy, “My lady’s clothing was soiled from the road, so they have been taken to wash. I have other garments to replace them.”

“My clothes were just fine, who told you to take them?”

She paled slightly, “The Lord Steward, my lady.”

You curled a lip, assuming that order had come when the steward saw you arrive in a cloud of dust. While you had carried your belongings to the room personally, the maids had taken the liberty of unpacking them. You’d forgotten how they tended to do things like that in places with polished stone instead of unwashed floors.

“My lady?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“What…what am I to call you?”

You grunted in mild disgust. Not even an hour and you regretted ever setting foot within the castle. “Fine. My lady will suffice.”

The maid simply stood there, and you realized she was waiting for you to choose a garment. You forced a polite smile, lifting the first item from her arms. A dress. The second and third were also dresses. As was the fourth. You stopped, fighting back a curse. “Are there any pairs of breeches in this pile?” you questioned.

“No, my lady.”

“Shirts or trousers?”

“No, my lady.”

“Anything without a skirt?”

“...no, my lady.”

Now you did curse. Repeatedly. “How long will it take for my clothes to wash?”

The maid had long since dropped her gaze to the floor. “A few hours. To dry, as well.”

“Could you perhaps retrieve me a shirt and a pair of trousers?” you asked, aiming for politeness.

The woman seemed to sink into the floorboards. “The Lord Steward was quite clear, my lady.”

You seethed quietly, knowing exactly what that meant. The little pissant. If he weren’t the right hand of the king, you’d punch him in the face wearing nothing but your towel. You clenched a fist, knowing you could not. This. This was the start of what you’d been avoiding all along. You wanted to run, take your wet clothes, and get back on your horse to leave the way you’d come. You wanted to forget all of the memories that had been drummed up along this journey. But that would mean leaving Jimin behind, as well. You sighed, turning away from the maid to look out the window.

For your friend, you would play nicely.

* * * * *

After reconciling with his father, Jimin waited for you in the great hall. It was beautiful, but empty except for the dark banners. And yet he could almost picture candlelit dancers sweeping across the floors. Suddenly, your voice rang out from behind him, “Your steward provided me with…clothes.”

Jimin spun to face you, but immediately choked on a laugh. You absolutely dripped discomfort, fidgeting with the tight sleeves of a borrowed dress. He knew you didn’t own any, for obvious reasons. The look on your face was murderous, darkening further the more he laughed.

“Don’t say a word,” you hissed.

In truth, you didn’t look bad in the dress at all. The sleeves were a little too tight, but that only highlighted the muscle you had acquired through training and combat. And perhaps the color was out of character, the violet a bit too vibrant for a woman who preferred leather and armor. But aside from that, you looked well enough.

“It’s a lovely color,” he started.

You actually hit him. He grunted, doubling over from the solid punch to his gut. “Another lesson, prince: respect threats from those who know how to enforce them,” you scolded.

Once Jimin caught his breath, he managed a faint chuckle. “Apologies. I’ll find you suitable replacements. Though a dress might be expected at dinner.”

“As I’m not a lady in your court, there is no dress code which applies,” you said, lifting your chin.

Jimin grinned. He preferred you in armor, too. For now, however, he would do what he could. “Let’s go raid the royal closets,” he said, extending an arm.

You simply cocked an eyebrow at him. “If I take your arm, your guards might attack me. They’re wondering if I broke your ribs just now.”

“Is that your only objection?” he asked, fighting a smirk.

You frowned at him, “One of several.”

“You do look like a lovely lady. It’s only proper to be escorted at the prince’s side.”

“If you ever spout nonsense like that again, I really will break your ribs.”

Jimin glanced at the nearest guard. Sure enough, his eyes were intent upon you, and not because your dress was tight. “Alright, lead the way, then,” he said.

He paused, waiting for you to give in. Unsurprisingly, it took at least a minute for your pride to crack. You didn’t look at him, merely slid your arm through his, resting your fingers on the inside of his elbow. Jimin blinked in surprise, not expecting such a delicate gesture from you. It seemed you still remembered the ladylike manners from your childhood, which only made him more curious about how ruthlessly they’d been drilled into you.

Jimin’s mind whirled as he led you through the maze of hallways. You glided along at his side, the picture of a perfect lady. He kept stealing glances to marvel at the transformation, not in physical appearance but in demeanor. When he first saw you in the dress, you looked uncomfortable in your skin. Now, walking alongside him, you wore the dress, rather than the other way around.

Secretly, he decided he wanted to see you in a real dress. The right one, not this borrowed disappointment of a frock.

He wondered who you were as a child, before you ran away. A lady’s maid in training? A duke’s daughter? Which king had denied such a force of personality? It was obvious to Jimin, even after mere minutes of meeting you, that you were of a rare caliber. If anyone deserved knighthood, it was you.

“Are you alright?” you asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“We’ve circled this stairwell three times now. I’d let you keep thinking about whatever is bothering you, but these slippers are horrible,” you frowned.

Jimin chuckled, turning down a different hallway. “I was a bit distracted, but here we are.”

“And that is…?”

“My rooms, of course. I can’t just steal from a random wardrobe,” he said, rolling his eyes.

With that, he swung open the doors, revealing a room identical to the one he remembered as a child. His father had kept everything the same since the curse. Which meant the closets should still have all of his old clothes.

“Wow,” you breathed, wide-eyed at the sheer expanse of closets. “What are you? Rich?” you joked.

“Only child,” he said, tossing you a few shirts. “These should fit.”

“You’re bigger than me,” you argued.

“Thirteen-year old me was roughly your size,” Jimin waved away your concerns, digging into a pile of trousers. “The pants might be harder. You can try them on in here, I’ll wait outside.”

Unlike the inn, you actually waited for him to close the door before stripping anything off. Leaning on the other side, he called to you, “We can always visit a seamstress, get you something to fit properly.”

“You know I’m not fussy, Jimin.”

He’d managed not to blush thus far, but hearing his name from your lips sent a flutter to his stomach. You still called him prince, but only in jest. After weeks of deepening your friendship, the way you said his name had changed, softened. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, what to do about it. “I know,” he finally answered. “But it’s the least I can do.”

“You already paid me,” you said, voice muffled from one of the new shirts, most likely.

“Not nearly enough,” he replied. “You saved my life more than once, and that’s not even counting the curse. For which you still haven’t let me repay you, by the way.”

“I told you before, I wasn’t there to save you.”

“You only accepted money for getting me to the inn safely. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a pushover,” he said.

On the other side of the door, you squawked, “A pushover?” Without warning, the door swung open behind him. Jimin stumbled backwards, trying to catch his balance.

Strong arms pulled him to an abrupt halt, catching him before he could hit the flagstones. For a moment, Jimin could do nothing but stare up at you. “Thank you,” he said, a bit breathlessly.

Mere inches away from his face, you grinned. “Any time, prince.” Then you helped him back to his feet, your grip secure around him.

His face was hot when he turned to face you, pointedly ignoring the gaping neckline of your borrowed shirt. Jimin cleared his throat, determined to say what was on his mind. “I meant what I said. I owe you.” You tried to wave him away, but he inched closer, insistent. “I didn’t want to offend you by offering gross amounts of money because you’re my friend. But I’d be doing you a disservice if I let you walk away without thanking you properly.”

You met his gaze, watching him intently. “Friends don’t owe each other.”

His heart clenched in response. “Normally, I’d agree with you. But I do owe you, as the curse-breaker.” He sighed, looking away, then back to you. “You didn’t question why I was alone in a tower filled with riches?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confusion lining your face.

“The money, the jewels...it’s all for you. It always was. I guess I just lost my nerve when you showed up, nothing like I imagined. I had ten years to think about my rescuer, to think about how it would go,” Jimin said. “I was going to offer it all to you, just according to plan. But then you said you didn’t come to rescue me. I figured it was all I had to barter for your help.”

“Jimin,” you started, but he stopped you.

“I wasn’t sure how to trust anyone, let alone you. And you didn’t exactly make it easy. But I don’t want to keep that secret any longer.” Jimin took a deep breath, not quite able to look you in the eyes until he finished his speech. “If you want the money, it’s yours, without question. But I know you better now, and I know the greatest gift I could possibly offer is the knighthood you have pursued your whole life.”

When the silence stretched on too long, Jimin finally mustered the courage to look at you again. You were so still, he wondered if you were even breathing.

“Serendesia has no laws preventing women from pursuing knighthood. It’s not common by any means, but our history books have records of several female knights. You’d be the first in nearly a century, though I imagine there would be more after you,” Jimin said, trying to explain. “I asked my father and he agreed it was an honor long overdue. He will, of course, ask that you serve our kingdom with your shield, but we are a peaceful nation, so war is highly unlikely. You’d still be able to travel the world. And perhaps you can come back to visit me every once in a while.”

Your eyes were so wide he could see the whites, but your chest rose and fell at last. “I don’t know what to say,” you said, voice hoarse.

“Say yes,” he breathed.

You tilted your head back, eyes sparkling with emotion. “Yes.”

* * * * *

Days passed, and very little changed from your routine on the road. You had a bed and clean clothes every day, plus hot meals whenever you wished. Jimin stopped wincing every time he sat down, thanks to the reprieve from the saddle. But your lessons continued, as did the laughter and conversations.

Every morning, Jimin would throw you around until the two of you were covered in dust. Then you’d switch to blade practice. By the end of your routine, the two of you always managed to accumulate a crowd—a mix of guardsmen and blushing scullery maids, usually.

Jimin took most of his meals with his father in a more formal setting, but breakfast was with you. You’d sit on a quiet section of the wall and watch the bustle in the courtyard below, eating simple fare like bread and cheese.

Some days, Jimin would visit his father, discussing important matters of state, you assumed. Others, he would read a book in the shade while you challenged the off-duty guards to keep your sword skills sharp.

In the afternoons, you helped him practice his dancing. The first few times, you were stiffer than a body at a funeral, thanks to the presence of a dance instructor. Once you realized how much they helped Jimin, you managed to loosen up. That didn’t stop Jimin from teasing you at every opportunity.

When the weather was fair, you would ride to watch the sunset. Often, to your surprise, Jimin would ask to join you. You teased him, in turn, for finally overcoming his saddle sores.

And every evening, you would change into Jimin’s old finery for dinner, taking great satisfaction from the sour expressions of the Lord Steward. The king laughed the first time you appeared, recognizing the trousers and jacket from Jimin’s youth. He applauded the creative use for the old wardrobe, not mocking in the slightest. All he’d said was, “No laws require a lady to wear skirts, merely tradition.”

Needless to say, you liked him.

When the king suggested a ball to celebrate Jimin’s return at one such dinner, you were unsurprised. Jimin was most definitely prepared, even if he broke out in a cold sweat every time his father mentioned marriage prospects. “I’ve taken the liberty of arranging invitations to neighboring kingdoms, in addition to the nobility of our own. I anticipate many young ladies will be in attendance,” the king said, raising a brow at his son.

Jimin grimaced, “Father, not this again.”

The king was already turning to you to change the subject, ignoring Jimin’s pained look entirely. “We will also use the ball as an opportunity to knight you,” the king said with a smile. “I can always do this in private, but a public event means your status will be unquestioned by every kingdom in attendance. As my son tells me, such freedom will be in your best interests, given your love of travel.”

You dipped your head, grateful for the consideration. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Of course, you are always welcome in Serendesia, no matter how much time has passed. There will always be a place for you here.”

Wetness pricked your eyes, and you bowed your head further. “I am grateful beyond measure.” For the knighthood, yes. But also for the home you’d earned here. It had been so long since you’d been able to call anyplace “home”. And you were honored by the unconditional welcome. It was hard not to feel resentful of your father when faced with the kindness and acceptance of Jimin’s.

Seeming to understand your emotional turmoil, the king granted you a reprieve by changing the subject. “Jimin, how many of our neighboring nations do you remember? Particularly those with marriageable young princesses.”

Jimin simply groaned before reaching for his wineglass.

Quietly, you smiled. You knew your friend dreaded matchmaking, if only because you once dreaded it yourself. And while you could not whisk him away from his responsibilities the way you’d run away from your own, you could help alleviate his nerves on the night of the ball.

You smiled to yourself, and told no one of your surprise, save the seamstress.

* * * * *

The day of the ball, Jimin woke you up before dawn, pounding on the door with the subtlety of a stampede. You proceeded to pay him back for the rude awakening by beating him into the dirt for several hours. The exercise barely worked the edge off his nerves.

Jimin paced back and forth in front of you while you ripped into a hot roll. “You realize I need to choose someone for the first dance, right?”

“So you’ve informed me,” you mumbled around a mouthful of bread.

“Without knowing any of the ladies in attendance beyond their titles and respective kingdoms,” he said. After his father’s teasing, Jimin had studied the list of attendees. For hours.

You huffed out a laugh, ignoring the twist in your stomach. “They don’t know you, either,” you pointed out, reaching for a hunk of cheese.

“The woman I choose is given the highest honor of the night, second only to the woman I propose to, if that should happen during the ball as well,” Jimin continued, not seeming to hear you at all.

“You’re overthinking this.”

“In fact, the woman given the first dance is assumed to be my top choice for marriage, since that has occurred so many times in history,” he said, breathing heavily.

“Choose a man, then,” you offered, taking another bite of the breakfast Jimin was neglecting.

“And what if I choose the wrong one for the first dance? What if she has no interest in me at all? I wouldn’t know beforehand, as I’ve never spoken to any of them before in my life.”

“Or a horse,” you mused.

Jimin walked faster, breathing hard as he slowly worked himself into a panic. “Worse yet, what if she falls in love with me but I think she’s a complete dunce and can’t stand being around her?”

“A girl is hardly going to fall in love with you over the course of one dance,” you rolled your eyes.

“My father could be in favor of someone I can’t stand, and progress the nuptials without my agreement,” Jimin fretted.

“Choose me, you idiot,” you said.

Jimin stopped abruptly, turning to face you. “What?”

“So you were listening,” you said with a smirk.

“Of course I was,” he said absently. You couldn’t read his expression at all.

Your smirk wavered under a sudden bout of nerves. “Well? I offered a solution.”

Jimin opened his mouth, then shut it again, thinking. “I don’t think anyone could object,” he mused. “You are, after all, the guest of honor.”

“I suppose they could challenge me to a duel over it, but they’d probably lose,” you added.

Under the weight of Jimin’s stare, you actually felt uncertain. You’d come up with the idea before, but hadn’t wanted to be too forward. It wasn’t your ball. And Jimin hadn’t asked, so maybe he didn’t consider you an option at all. You hadn’t considered the possibility that he would say no.

“You don’t actually have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted you. Jimin sat beside you on the castle wall, catching your eyes. You were pinned beneath that stare, especially when he said your name like that. Like you were something more than a ruffian in dirty leather, more than a woman with knives against her skin. “Will you do me the honor of accompanying me for the first dance this evening?”

You couldn’t stop your smile if you tried. “Well, I can’t exactly say no to my own plan,” you joked, bumping your shoulder into his. “Of course I will.”

“Excellent,” Jimin clapped his hands together, springing to his feet. “Since you’ve eaten both of our breakfasts, I’m going back to the kitchens. Want anything?”

You sent him an easy smile, “No, I’ll just go trounce your guards. Morris is pretty good with twin axes if you ever want to join us.”

Jimin froze for a moment, eyes wide. “I’ll pass. If you need me, I’ll be hiding in my room away from the early arrivals.”

“They’re all going to spend hours getting pretty for the ball tonight, you have nothing to worry about,” you told him, wrapping up the remains of your breakfast.

“Can’t risk it. And the others will arrive before sunset, so I’ll hide until I’m forced out at swordpoint.”

“Careful what you wish for, it might just be me sent to fetch you,” you laughed.

“I hope so,” Jimin said with a grin.

* * * * *

“Is it supposed to feel like my ribs are breaking?”

“That’s what corsets do,” the seamstress groused, loosening the laces slightly, then fastening the bodice atop it. “Break you.”

“How pleasant,” you gasped in relief. “I regret this already.”

“But you look lovely,” the woman said, stepping back to eye the dress critically. She adjusted the fabric here and there, then nodded in satisfaction. “Very nice. Have a look.”

You’d seen the dress in your mind’s eye, having discussed it at length with Mary, the no-nonsense seamstress. She’d even drawn you a picture, so that you could decide on other details of the gown. And you’d seen it on a dress form during a quick fitting, too. It was lovely on paper and in person, exactly as you’d imagined it. But you’d never imagined what it would look like when you finally wore it. You never imagined what you would look like.

“Oh,” you gasped softly.

Mary had understood exactly what you wanted. You were to be knighted, so the dress could not be some frothy circus affair. If you showed up in a lace monstrosity, no one would believe you could wield a sword, let alone a candlestick. The gown, you explained, should be like armor. Functional but elegant, maybe a little sharp at the edges. You didn’t want to masquerade as a teenage boy any longer. Tonight, you wanted to look like a true lady, but one with teeth.

The bodice was formed from a metal breastplate, courtesy of the castle blacksmith. It had been fitted to your exact shape and polished to a bright silver, very different from your real plate armor. The shining metal extended from your waist to the tops of the swells of your breasts. Sweeping silk skirts flowed beneath it, thundercloud gray. The sheen of the fabric gave it an almost metallic quality, echoing the bodice as it fell to the floor. Smoky tulle billowed from the top to form semi-transparent sleeves. The dress was mostly unadorned, except for the delicate sleeves, dotted with small crystals like stars.

You’d been afraid of looking out of place in a gown for the first time in years. Instead, you were faced with a dress that had been made for you. It was perfect.

Mary even gave a small smile, a surprising display of emotion from the stern older woman. “Aren’t you going to do your hair?”

You hesitated. Your guest room vanity had come equipped with all kinds of tools and products, some of which were familiar from your childhood, but you hadn’t dared touch them. Before you could think of anything to say, Mary swept out of the room. She returned with two maids in tow. Evidently, your hesitation had been taken as permission to act.

“If you are going to a ball like this one in a dress like that, you might as well go all in,” Mary said, back to her usual brisk self.

You simply sat down where directed and let her have her way. The two maids, familiar after several weeks in the castle, helped apply makeup while Mary pinned your hair in place. It seemed the seamstress had prepared for this, because she procured hairpins with the same crystals as your sleeves.

The end result made your eyes water, but perhaps not for the reason anyone expected. “I look like my mother,” you said softly. Mary patted your shoulder as you fought tears, and the maids exited quietly. It hurt more than you expected, seeing your mother in the mirror. You wondered how she’d changed since you left.

“She’d be proud. You’ve done wonderful things, and you’ve earned tonight’s ceremony,” Mary said. “I’m glad I could be a part of it.”

You stood and turned to face her, “Thank you so much. For everything.”

“Pah,” Mary waved you away. “I always wanted a daughter I could force to wear dresses. If you stay, I’ll come and bother you more often.”

“I’d be honored,” you said, bowing to her.

“Enough of that. The ball is downstairs, so get along, now.” Mary packed up her things, bustling about the room. “If I don’t hear stories about a beautiful woman in a metal dress, I’ll be disappointed.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” you called after her, watching Mary hurry out of the room with a smile.

You took one last look in the mirror before you left. It had been a long time since you’d felt beautiful. Perhaps you never had felt that way. But looking in the mirror now, you saw the woman Mary described. She was more muscular than any other noble lady, but her chin was high, shoulders straight. She wore a showstopping gown, but she was the true star of the night. The woman in the mirror needed no extra adornment, for she shone brightly on her own.

That didn’t stop you from grabbing a thigh sheath and dagger, though.

You laughed to yourself as you strapped it in place. Other girls wore diamonds, but your main concern was sharp steel. You supposed tonight’s dress was a good reflection of your priorities.

The silk whispered over the flagstone floors as you swept down the hallways. Under different circumstances, you would be making a fierce argument against clothing that announced your location to a potential ambush. Tonight, you hardly saw a soul on your way to drag Jimin to the ball. All of the guests were already in attendance in the decorated rooms below, including those who’d arrived in advance due to the length of their travel.

You knocked on Jimin’s door. “Done primping yet?” you called.

“Come in,” was his only response.

You opened the door to chaos. Clothes were strewn across the floor, even though you knew Jimin had picked out his outfit a week ago. Multiple knives were embedded in the target next to the door. Apparently Jimin had decided to settle his nerves with a little throwing practice. Finally, you noticed him standing by the open windows, staring morosely into the night.

“I didn’t realize you were still so unsettled,” you said, not sure of his mood.

“Unsettled? I’m a prize cow going to auction tonight,” he groused.

“That would be every unmarried woman in attendance tonight, not you,” you corrected. “Unlike most of them, you have the ability to say no, and the gift of a father who will listen.”

Jimin slumped, his head hanging slightly. “That was a thoughtless thing for me to say,” he said.

“Your feelings are valid, but I think you sometimes let your worries get the best of you. That’s why I’m here to give you perspective,” you huffed out a laugh.

“I don’t blame you in the slightest for staying away from this life,” Jimin said. “Perhaps I should run away from all of this, too.”

“Your father would miss you. As would I.” You leaned against the closed door, watching his back. “And besides, it isn’t all bad. You never have to wear corsets.”

Finally, Jimin managed a chuckle. He turned to face you, then came to a halt. After a few heartbeats, you remembered what you were wearing. “You—you look,” he started and stopped a few times, seemingly unable to find words. “Breathtaking.”

You felt your cheeks heat rapidly, “Glad to hear I pass inspection.”

“Pass? You’ve blown every standard out of the water. You’re beautiful. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

You blinked at him, your embarrassment snuffed out like a flame. “Thank you.”

He smiled, and you felt like you could breathe again. You weren’t sure when you’d stopped. “Well then, now that’s settled, we have a first dance to get to. Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm. This time, you didn’t hesitate.

Gliding down the hallway at Jimin’s side, you finally took a moment to admire his chosen attire. He still wore black for his mother, but with elegant touches of gold trim against the dark fabric.

Jimin must have noticed your stare. “For once, I’m the underdressed one.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Absolutely not. I just found this old thing in the closet because it’s black. That dress is custom perfection and I want to buy you five more.”

You bit back a laugh, “Maybe the seamstress can make you one, too.”

“Maybe I just need some fancy armor. And a sword or something. This is the first time I’ve seen you in something you can’t fight in.”

You cocked your head to the side. “That sounds an awful lot like a challenge to me.”

“Do not ruin that dress,” Jimin hissed.

“I won’t, I promise,” you said, a smug smile on your lips. “But I could absolutely fight in it. Dresses are only inconvenient until you chop off the bottom of the skirt.”

Jimin just groaned as the two of you approached the ballroom. “Do not.”

You ignored him. “And for your information, I’m still armed tonight.”

“Why am I not surprised?” drawled a new voice. You smiled when you recognized the two guards posted by the doors. Eric was your preferred sparring partner when you needed to swing a sword. And Jonas was one of the younger guards, always eager for advice.

“You boys ought to know that I’m always carrying a weapon,” you said with a wink.

“Pretty sure you are the weapon,” Jonas commented.

Jimin watched the interaction with interest, and the men straightened when they remembered the prince. He rarely attended your practices with the guards, so they always adopted a higher level of formality.

“How late are we?” Jimin asked.

Jonas bowed, “It’s only a few minutes past six, your Highness.”

“Translation?” you smirked.

The guard chuckled and said, “Not late at all. A few guests walked in before you arrived.”

“Is it even possible for the host to be late to his own party?” you asked. “You could always lie and tell them they got the times confused.”

“That’s the event-planning version of pulling out a knife in a fistfight,” Jimin said.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. In both scenarios, you gain the upper hand. Unhinder yourself from such scruples,” you teased.

“We learn all our dirty tricks from you,” Eric sketched a quick bow, adding to the joke.

Jimin rolled his eyes. “You’re teaching them bad manners.”

“I’m teaching them how to win,” you corrected. “And how to have fun. You should come to more of our practices and see for yourself.”

Jimin shared a long-suffering look with the guards. “The lady is a force to be reckoned with,” Eric said.

“You might as well do as she says,” Jonas advised, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You just laughed, striding towards the heavy doors. “All right, boys, open up. I’ll go terrorize the nobility instead.” The two men nodded, and Eric pulled one door open to allow you to pass through. You cast a look over your shoulder at Jimin, who hung back to make his princely entrance. “Don’t forget to smile,” you instructed. “At least one of us should pretend to have manners.”

Then you stepped forward into splendor.

Candles lined the wide staircase, allowing everyone to see guests as they arrived in the enormous ballroom. The marble floors were polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting a rainbow of colorful gowns. Above you, an orchestra was tucked into a balcony, constructed so that the music could echo throughout the room. To your surprise, the black banners were gone, replaced by Serendesian colors. Floral arrangements dotted the walls, filling the space with the scent of the gardens outside.

You descended the stairs by memory, only slightly aware of maintaining your posture and holding your skirts out of harm’s way. Instead, you focused on the crowd. Your eyes darted around the room, identifying the castle guards at their posts, the gentlemen with their decorative swords, and the ladies with eyes like daggers. Seeing no immediate threats, and trusting the guards to watch your back, you ignored the stares as you made your way to the dais across the room. The king rose to his feet as you approached, and the crowd quieted to see who was so important to Serendesia’s monarch.

You only heard the sweep of your skirts on the floor as you fell into a perfect curtsy, holding the position with the stillness of a statue. “Thank you for the kindness of your hospitality, your Majesty,” you murmured, before straightening once more.

He smiled at you, bowing his head slightly. Behind you, titters broke out from the crowd. The orchestra stopped. And then everyone turned to the back of the room as both doors swung open.

An announcer cried out, “His Highness, Prince Jimin of Serendesia.” You frowned, wondering where that man had been for your entrance.

But then Jimin was coming down the stairs, looking more princely than he’d ever looked before. Or maybe he’d simply grown into the title after leaving his tower. Either way, you watched him descend the stairs, looking like a character from a fairytale.

The candlelight shone on his dark blonde locks, granting him an ethereal glow. His eyes sparkled, lips curling into a shadow of a smile when he caught sight of you. Your reaction was instinctive, allowing your expression to mirror his. And then he was in front of you.

“Shall we dance?” Jimin offered his hand.

“What if I said no?” you whispered.

“I’d probably throw you into some flowers,” he grinned, eyeing an arrangement of violets nearby.

“Well,” you sighed dramatically. “If you insist.” You placed your hand in his, and the thud of your heart felt like another victory.

* * * * *

Breathe, Jimin told himself. But it was incredibly difficult when you looked like something out of a dream. His heart pounded in his ears, almost drowning out the swish of your skirts. Then he heard the gentle sounds of the orchestra as they played the opening notes to the song he’d requested. The song that made your eyes smile the first time you heard it during a dance practice.

Your head snapped in his direction, and Jimin looked down, catching the extra sparkle in your gaze as he stopped you in the center of the dance floor. “Sneaky bastard,” you whispered, and his smile grew. Jimin tightened his grip on your fingers, and your answering squeeze was reassuring. Then you were placing your hand on his shoulder, and he had a hold of your waist, metal cool on his fingers. And he almost, almost forgot to step forward at the right time.

Your eyes were laughing, having caught his near-mistake, even if the rest of the room was still dazzled. “Careful,” you breathed, tilting your head to extend one arm gracefully. “Or your dance instructor will think you weren’t paying attention during all those lessons.”

Jimin reeled you back into his arms, trying not to think about how good it felt to have you there. “You’re the one who kept trying to sneak out,” he said, before sweeping you in a wide and fast turn.

You leaned into each step, your neck extending gracefully where the song allowed drawn out notes. Jimin stuttered a step, stuttered again when your lips curled into a sly grin. “Remember, prince, I know all the dirty tricks in the book.” He blinked, wondering when you’d started paying attention to the dance lessons enough to turn it into another kind of sparring. At his expense, of course.

Jimin rolled his eyes, raising your arm to twirl you amidst a flurry of sound from the orchestra. You spun, once, twice, three times, and he forgot his annoyance. Your skirts spread like a thundercloud, metal glinting as you whirled. It truly was an incredible dress. And as you slowed, clasping his hand once more, he reminded himself to breathe again. For you were an even more incredible woman, and it was past time for him to find the words to tell you so.

“I’ll have you know that I love dancing, and your attempts to distract me are unappreciated,” Jimin teased.

“Oh, are they? Then why are you smiling at me instead of worrying about the crowd?” He blinked, and you let out a quiet laugh, fingers pressing into his shoulder gently. “Thank you for picking this song,” you said.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it,” you said firmly. “I remember loving it, a lifetime ago. I’m glad I have a new memory to love, as well.”

Jimin closed his eyes, overwhelmed. And he danced with you. He lost himself in the gliding steps, the feel of your hands, the way you moved in tandem with him. The stretch and press of muscles, the thrum of the music in his chest, the silk brushing against his legs. He didn’t want to miss a single moment.

You weren’t the only one with a new memory to love.

* * * * *

Like all things, the dance eventually came to an end. Within moments, Jimin was swept away, introduced to a girl in blue, and dancing to the next song. You smirked at the expression on his face.

When a man approached to your left, your smile disappeared. “My lady, would you care for—” he began, bowing slightly, but you didn’t hear the rest. You quickly turned and weaved through the dancers, making for the wall. You didn’t take a full breath until your back was against the stone.

“That bad?”

You turned your head slightly, catching sight of the guard stationed beside you—Morris. No axes tonight, you noted. “Snakes, all of them. I wish I was in armor.”

“Your dress looks like it. Minus those frilly sleeves,” Morris said.

“Do you see half of the men out there? Those are frilly sleeves. They look prettier than I do.”

“Well, you look lovelier than you did this morning,” Morris joked.

“Always lovelier than you,” you smirked, your pulse slowing back down with the familiar banter. “How many times did you eat dirt, again?”

Apparently the guard on your other side was within earshot, because he had a good laugh at Morris’ expense. “At least a dozen,” the man provided.

“Always pick an opponent who won’t bruise you when you have an important event,” you grinned. “I’ll see you in the morning for another round.” You pushed off the wall, willing to brave the hordes once more.

“Now that is a woman.” You were fairly sure it was Morris, but the whispered compliment made your smile grow even wider.

You slipped through the crowd, ignoring the pointed stares. It was hard, being here alone. It felt like you were shrinking. You weren’t lying when you said you longed for more armor. Although you loved the gown, you couldn’t help feeling vulnerable. A little voice in your mind was telling you to stand straighter, walk quieter, keep your head lower. It was a voice you rarely heard when covered in mud and blood. It sounded like your father.

It wasn’t the dress. It was the people. It was the pretty flowers and candles, the stares and jewels. The years of fighting suddenly seemed like a dream, and you were back where you started, trapped in a palace.

You dug your fingers into your palms, reminding yourself that this wasn’t a trap. There was a horse in the stables right now—your horse—and you could leave whenever you wished. You owned things now. You chose things. And despite how uncomfortable it was, you chose to be at the ball. For your friend. For Jimin.

The dance floor was teeming with beautiful people, but your eyes were drawn to him right away. He looked happy, his face glowing, pink cheeked from exertion. You refused to look at his dance partner. Maybe his future queen.

Blinking furiously, you turned away, thinking you might spend the entire ball chatting with Morris and the others. Better than standing on the sidelines and wishing Jimin’s fingers were on your waist. Better than glaring at his potential brides. The thought stiffened your stride.

Then a hand caught your elbow. For whatever reason, you expected to find Jimin there. You turned, a little breathless, but found a strange face. “Release me,” you said.

“I came to request a dance,” he said, bowing his head, but keeping his eyes on you.

“And I said release me,” you repeated, voice turning icy.

“Do you not wish to dance?” The man tilted his head, “Or must I introduce myself first? Forgive my manners, I—”

“I don’t care. I gave you an order and I expect you to follow it.” You cast a pointed look at his hand, still on your elbow. “I won’t tell you again.”

The man’s face tightened, and so did his fingers. But before you could step forward and deliver a gorgeous groin kick, his hand was ripped away.

“I believe the lady was quite clear,” a new voice cut in, razor sharp. You’d never heard Jimin sound like that before.

Now the man paled. “Forgive me, your Highness,” he stuttered.

“Wrong person. I don’t need an apology,” Jimin said. Your stomach fluttered a little, and you glared down at it. Behave.

“I—yes, your Highness. Please, forgive me,” the man said, turning back to you.

You simply waved a hand. “Alright, move along.”

Jimin watched the man flee, glaring daggers long after he’d gone. You really had been a bad influence, you thought to yourself, halfheartedly covering a smile. “Jimin, he’s gone,” you said, poking him in the side.

Jimin tensed, staring down at the ground. “I know you can take care of yourself, I’m sorry I stepped in,” he muttered. “I just—you shouldn’t always have to do everything on your own. Especially if I’m here, I can’t just—”

“Jimin,” you interrupted him before he could spiral. “Thanks for being my backup. It’s nice.”

He blinked, flushing slightly. “Oh.”

“I should probably be thanking you. If you hadn’t come along, I’d have kicked him,” you admitted, that smile still teasing at your lips. “And I promised I wouldn’t ruin my dress.”

“You know,” Jimin said, lifting his head to look at you. “I’m starting to wonder if my manners are lacking because of the tower or because of you.”

You gaped at him until you saw a familiar glint in his eyes, then smacked his arm soundly. “Rude,” you laughed. “I was just wondering the same thing. Don’t steal my ideas.”

Jimin opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a blast of horns. The crowd murmured, turning to face the dais. The king stood tall, raising an arm for silence. You were already moving forward when he called your name.

It felt like a dream. The crowd parted before you, faces turning to watch your approach, Jimin at your heels. You stopped before the dais, and Jimin moved to stand at his father’s side, a look of pride swelling in his eyes. Your heart thumped fiercely.

“Many of you know of the curse upon my family,” the king called out. “What you do not know is that this brave woman is responsible for saving my son, and for returning him safely to us.” He turned to meet her gaze, a soft smile gracing his face, so similar to Jimin’s. “I wish to express my gratitude, and the thanks of my kingdom, for your heroic service. I can think of no better reward than granting the knighthood you deserve.”

At the king’s nod, you sank to your knees on the bottom step. The stone was cold, seeping through the silk to kiss your knees. You breathed, your mind stilling. This was the moment you had been waiting for. You’d longed for this, hardly daring to hope it would come. And now you were watching the king unsheathe his sword, stepping forward to place the blade on your shoulder. He was gentle, the cool metal barely touching your bare skin before crossing to the opposite shoulder. You breathed, fighting back tears.

The king lifted his sword a third time, tapping the crown of your head. “Do you swear fealty to the crown? To defend Serendesia for the rest of your days?”

The sword had just lifted away from your head when the dream fell apart.

“No.” Your breath shattered. “Absolutely not.” You knew that voice. Your knees turned to lead, holding you on the ground as footsteps approached.

“As my long-standing ally and neighbor, I respect you a great deal, but this is not up for debate. This ceremony has nothing to do with you or your kingdom, Roland,” Jimin’s father said, mouth pressed into a firm line.

“On the contrary, it has everything to do with me.” Your lungs burned, reminding you to inhale. Those footsteps came to a halt beside you. Despite everything, you looked up at him. The way you would have, before everything. Something inside you cracked at the sight. “She is my daughter.”

* * * * *

Sitting in an unused council room, Jimin’s mind whirled, trying to make sense of the past few minutes. Only four chairs were occupied, but the silence was oppressive. Your silence, however, twisted something in his chest.

Jimin watched the foreign king sitting across from him in disbelief. He knew something was wrong when your shoulders had curled inwards on the dais, face shuttering in an expression he’d never seen before. But how could he have predicted this? You were King Roland’s daughter. A princess.

His mind whirled, connecting all of the bits and pieces you’d revealed of your past. You were the youngest daughter, missing for years, and still your father had refused to let you pursue your knighthood. And he felt strongly enough to intervene despite the risk of tension with a neighboring kingdom.

Fortunately for all of them, Jimin’s father had reacted quickly to the rude interruption. He’d announced a reprieve from the ceremony, allowing the festivities to continue while facilitating a family reunion in an adjoining room. Even with the doors shut, Jimin could catch the faint strains of music.

King Roland watched his daughter, eyes sharp. Jimin’s father watched Roland. And you? You still hadn’t looked up from your lap, where your hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists. Jimin’s own fist clenched beneath the table. He couldn’t bear the look on your face. He’d never seen you afraid, and he never wanted to see it again. But no matter how much he wanted to help you, Jimin knew that this battle was ultimately yours. He would not take credit for a victory you needed to earn on your own. He only hoped you could find the strength to fight it. And that you could walk away without too many scars.

Just when Jimin was about to leap out of his chair from frustration, Roland spoke, “I would like to speak privately with my daughter.”

Jimin’s father raised his brows. “This is private, or as private as you are going to get. You invited us into your family’s affairs by causing a scene in front of an audience.”

“I apologize for the disruption, but I could not allow things to continue. It is apparent that she never revealed her true identity before accepting your offer of knighthood. I’m sure we can devise a passable explanation for your court for why you’re revoking that offer.”

“I’m afraid you are mistaken,” his father said, leaning forward on the table. “I have no intention of revoking anything.”

“She cannot accept. As a member of the Armynian royal family, she is in direct competition to your kingdom, and cannot accept a position within your court,” Roland said, eyes hard.

“Serendesian law does not require the family’s consent,” his father countered.

“And my nation’s law does not allow women to pursue knighthood.”

Jimin couldn’t help himself. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing we’re currently in Serendesia.”

King Roland’s gaze snapped to him. “My daughter is still my subject, no matter how much she denies it. She must follow the law of her kingdom, regardless of our current location.”

Jimin bristled, ignoring his father’s soothing hand on his shoulder. “She has earned this honor, no matter how much you disapprove of it,” he snarled. Jimin kept looking back at you, still curled in on yourself, frozen in place.

King Roland continued as if Jimin had never spoken, turning back to his father. “My daughter will not further ally herself with Serendesia through anything but marriage. I am open to discussion at a future date.”

Jimin’s mouth dropped open at the sheer dismissiveness in his tone. But if Jimin was lost for words, his father was not. “King Roland of Armynia, I respectfully ask you to leave,” he said, voice firm. “If you truly wish to have a discussion with all involved parties, you may. But not tonight. You are a guest here, and I implore you to comport yourself as such.”

King Roland exhaled, pushing his chair back to stand. “Very well, I will take my leave.” The king called your name and Jimin watched helplessly as your whole body jerked in response. “Come. You cannot stay here.”

What to do. Jimin and his father were bound by diplomacy, unable to interfere overmuch in what was—as of that moment—primarily a private dispute. Breaking King Roland’s nose wouldn’t help anyone, though he might feel better about it. It was something you’d probably do, but you hadn’t moved since sitting down. Jimin was tempted to do it anyway, if only so you’d tease him for his lack of manners.

You interrupted his thoughts before he could do something rash. “No.” Jimin’s breath caught. He hardly recognized your voice, it sounded so small. But the word seemed to bring you back to yourself, and you lifted your head slightly. Anger burned in your eyes like a forge.

Roland exhaled, pushing his chair back to stand. “I am your father and king, no matter how much you wish it wasn’t true. It’s time to end this foolishness and come home,” he said.

“No,” you repeated. Jimin could have cheered when he saw you square your shoulders, the fight rekindling in your eyes. “I will not.”

“You are still a member of my court. Running away from home did not change that,” the king said.

“Then allow me to correct the issue,” you gritted out, shoving your chair back with a harsh sound. You stood tall, facing the man who bore some resemblance to you. “I renounce my title. I renounce my kingdom. I renounce any claim you believe you have to me.”

Roland pounded a fist on the table with a sound like thunder. The doors swung open, revealing several guards he recognized, hands hovering over their weapon hilts.

But Jimin couldn’t tear his eyes away from you for long. You stalked around the table to stand between the two kings. “I believe you were given a request to leave,” you said icily. “I am happy to enforce it if you refuse.”

King Roland looked ready to duel his daughter, but kept his mouth firmly shut, nostrils flaring. They all remained still, locked in a silent stalemate, for what felt like hours. Finally, Roland turned on his heel and swept out of the room.

The second he was out of sight, you collapsed into a chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Jimin’s father beat him to your side. “I am so sorry this happened, my dear. Is there anything you would have us do?”

Jimin fell to his knees beside you, reaching for your hand. For a moment, he worried that you would close him out, but you clutched his fingers like a lifeline. Jimin tried to smile at you, but seeing you so unsettled left him trembling as much as you. He didn’t know what you were feeling, what he should say or do. So Jimin let you hold him too tight.

“Am I a knight?” Your voice was small again. Jimin fought not to flinch.

His father hummed thoughtfully. “Technically, yes, though the ceremony was cut a bit short.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “He always ruins my parties.”

“The only thing left is to swear fealty to the crown,” Jimin said. “Nothing fancy, plus you need a sword, I think. We don’t have to—”

“Now,” you interrupted his rambling. “Let’s do it now.”

His father nodded. “Witnesses are required. We can resume where we left off.”

“Is he out there?” you asked. Jimin blinked, unsure, until he realized the question was not for him.

One of the guards in the doorway stepped forward. “We have eyes on him in the crowd. He’s with the Armynian delegation for now.”

The news actually seemed to reassure you, and you squeezed Jimin’s hand before releasing him. “Perfect, he can watch with the rest of them. I don’t want any doubts about my allegiance moving forward.”

Another guard moved into the room, unsheathing his blade and offering it to you, hilt first. “I know you’re armed tonight, but there’s no way you snuck a sword under that dress,” he joked.

And for the first time since your father’s interruption, a smile graced your lips. “Never make assumptions, Eric.”

The guard laughed, rejoining his fellows. “That’s my fancy event sword, so don’t damage it,” he snarked.

Your smile grew, finally reaching your eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

* * * * *

The second time your knees hit the steps at the foot of the throne, you were utterly focused. There was no heartbeat pounding in your ears, no forced breathing, only the knowledge that this was right. This was what you wanted. This was freedom, and it was a freedom you had chosen. Your choice. The relief of it would have buckled your knees if you’d been standing.

Your hands gripped the hilt of Eric’s sword, which was indeed fancy, as you bowed your head to the king. You did not falter for a moment. “I swear fealty to the crown, from now until death. I swear to defend the kingdom, protect its people, and uphold its laws. From this day forward, my sword and shield are yours to command.”

When boots approached, entering your line of sight, you lifted your head at last. Above you, Jimin’s father was smiling, one hand extended to help you to your feet. You accepted, and he tugged you to stand beside him. Facing the crowd at last, you were stunned to see them cheer. You blinked, taken aback at their ready acceptance of you. Serendesians, it seemed, were just as unpredictable as their prince.

When the king lifted your arm, victorious, the applause nearly doubled in sound. Guards along the wall whistled loudly. Even the steward was clapping, though it might just be because you were in a dress, however unconventional.

“Thank you,” you whispered, bowing your head to the king once more.

“It is I who must thank you,” he replied, smile softening.

Then Jimin was threading your arm through his and tugging you back towards the dance floor, leaving you to scramble with the sword. Eric snatched it out of your hand with a wink, letting Jimin pull you along unhindered. Your joy was overflowing, spilling from your lips every time Jimin twirled you unexpectedly. Your laughter must have been infectious, because Jimin was chuckling along with you through dance after dance.

Not even the brief glimpse of your father in the crowd could dim your happiness.

After two or three fast-paced songs, you stopped to catch your breath. Jimin grinned, “Looks like I’m the one with better endurance.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him gently. “Too much excitement tonight, even for me.”

He smirked, then grasped your hand once more to tug you in a new direction. “Let’s get some air, then, princess.” The teasing jab earned him a swift punch in the arm, but you followed him anyway.

The two of you slipped into the gardens mostly unseen. The guards, of course, took note. But none of them offered anything more than congratulatory smiles.

The moon bathed the expansive greenery in bright silver light. The sound of the ball faded with every step. Your bare arms pebbled slightly, your delicate sleeves hardly any protection from the evening’s chill.

Beside you, Jimin practically glowed. You were relieved to have him at your side, rather than running for the hills. Never in a million years would you have predicted a night like this, your secrets laid bare for all to see. But Jimin hadn’t reacted the way you feared. He hadn’t abandoned you. You were starting to believe he never would.

The way he called your name brought tears to your eyes. “Are you alright?” The question made them fall, streaming down your face in an unstoppable flood. Then Jimin’s arms were around you, holding you together as you cried for the first time since running away. He murmured soothing words, pressing his lips to your hair. He said your name, over and over, like some kind of prayer. And you realized it was, in a way. Jimin was praying for you, hoping you’d be alright. And the knowledge that someone cared—and that someone was him—was enough to send a fresh wave of tears down your cheeks.

Jimin simply let you cry, alone in the gardens with no witnesses but the stars. He simply held you through it, and that was more than you ever thought you’d have.

At some point, Jimin started to sway back and forth in time with the distant orchestra. You smiled into his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Unnecessary. Friends don’t owe each other,” he said.

“If I recall, you disagreed with me when I said that,” you said, poking his side.

“Compared to breaking a curse, I haven’t done anything special at all.”

You swallowed, trying to find the right words to express the feeling bursting from your chest. “You’re the first true friend I’ve had in my life. Perhaps the first one I’ve allowed myself to have.” You let out a shaky breath before continuing, “I don’t trust easily, or at all, but it means a lot that I can trust you.”

“I’ll always be your backup,” Jimin told you, sincerity ringing through his words.

“One day, you’ll be king, and you can’t be anyone’s backup,” you laughed softly. “That’s my job.”

“Always,” he reiterated. “You can always trust me. No matter how big my crown gets.”

“I know. Or rather, I knew for sure when you still defended me tonight.”

Jimin pursed his lips, pulling back just enough to see your face. Whatever he saw there made him relax slightly, and a smile teased at the corners of his eyes. “Your father is, to be very frank, an asshole.”

You barked out a laugh, squeezing him tighter. “Not even ten minutes in the room with him and you know him better than most.”

“I’m sorry for the drama he put you through tonight.”

“I’m not,” you said, surprising yourself as much as Jimin. “I never had that conversation, and I needed to. I’ve spent all these years running, hoping to avoid the confrontation. I was trying to escape the memories as much as the man, and it didn’t do me any favors. But running from him somehow led me to you, Jimin. And I can hate him, but on some level I’m grateful he sent me your way.”

Now Jimin was the one blinking back tears. “He’s still an asshole.”

“True enough.”

“I’m glad we met. I’m grateful to have met you and become your friend. And I’m unbelievably happy for you to have gotten the knighthood you earned long ago.” Jimin met her gaze, unblinking. “You are incredible. You inspire me every day. You make me laugh even when you’re beating me black and blue. You make me less afraid, or perhaps more willing to face what scares me. You teach me new ways to improve as a person and as a prince. And your courage is unmatched in this world. You take my breath away.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, suddenly aware of how close you were. Jimin’s arms were still wrapped around you, keeping you flush to his chest, though your metal bodice couldn’t have been comfortable. His face was mere inches from yours, long lashes sweeping down over pink cheeks.

You fought to keep your voice steady. “Jimin, where is this coming from?”

“I realized something recently,” he began, licking his lips. Your eyes caught the movement, and you had difficulty lifting them back to his glittering gaze. “My only regret is not telling you sooner, but I was terrified of scaring you away. Tonight made me realize that it doesn’t matter. If I can’t be brave, do I even deserve to have you at my side?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What is it?”

His fingers tightened on your waist before releasing you. Slowly, Jimin unwound his arms from your middle, taking a step away to give you space. Before you could worry too much, he raised a hand to your face, fingers ghosting over your jawline. The words that came next were simple. “I love you.”

Every thought eddied from your mind. Even the leaves stopped moving in the wind, or perhaps you simply stopped hearing them. “Jimin,” you breathed.

“I couldn’t say anything before, especially because of the ceremony. I didn’t want anything to ruin it for you, not even me,” he said, that touch fading from your skin as he backed away further.

“Jimin,” you repeated.

“But I never want to keep secrets from you, or betray your trust. I just—”

You cut him off, crashing your lips to his. Shock held him immoble for a few heartbeats, but then he relaxed against you. His hands returned to cup your face, the touch featherlight. And those lips were just as soft as you’d imagined in your weaker moments. You sighed against him, struck with the feeling of rightness. Another choice, and oh how you wanted him.

Slowly, so that you had plenty of time to pull away if you wished, Jimin slid one hand up into your hair, careful of the delicate pins. The other slid around your jaw and nape as he angled your head to deepen the kiss.

Your next sigh turned into a quiet moan when his tongue ventured into your mouth. Heat shot down each of your limbs, leaving you trembling with anticipation. Your fingers tightened, having found their way to his jacket without your knowledge, and your strengthened grip pulled him closer than you believed possible. His body pressed against you, each point of contact searing like a brand.

When you parted for breath, you scarcely opened your eyes before Jimin was pressing fevered kisses down the length of your neck. One hand held your hair out of his way, and the other shifted to hold your waist, fingers teasing at the top of your skirt. “I love you,” he breathed between kisses, repeating himself over and over as he forged a path across your collarbones.

“Jimin,” you gasped out. His eyes twinkled up at you from where he pressed a lingering kiss to the upper swell of your breast, just above the metal bodice. Then his lips were back on yours.

“You deserve to be kissed every day,” he said, before capturing your mouth once more. He pulled away again when you were sufficiently breathless. “Every hour. Every minute, if I believed you would let me.”

“I might,” you managed. “If you ask nicely.” You yanked him back down, but Jimin resisted the pull.

“I do have one more thing to ask,” he said, voice husky from the excitement. And if you were breathless before, you were positively frozen when he sank down onto one knee in the grass. “Marry me?”

For a moment, you simply blinked at him, struggling to catch up. “What?”

Jimin’s mouth was pinker than before, bruised from their kisses. It was incredibly distracting as Jimin gaped at you, uncertainty warring over his beloved features. “It has now occurred to me that this is the wrong time to ask.”

Despite the seriousness of his question, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Jimin, your impulsiveness is astounding.”

He blushed furiously, shooting back to his feet. “You could be impressed by the strength of my feelings for you,” he groused.

“Are you sure there aren’t any other motives?” You had a few possibilities in mind.

Jimin grimaced, looking away from you, then back again. “It seemed like a good opportunity to hit two birds with one stone. I hadn’t planned to ask you tonight, but what your father said…” Jimin trailed off.

“My father has always been full of hot air,” you finished. “Jimin, I care for you. Very much.” The man in question looked at you with his heart in his eyes. You flashed a grin, then sobered. “I’m not sure I can put my feelings into words yet, since I’ve never let myself love before. But for you, I’d probably be willing to try.”

“I didn’t expect anything when I said that,” he blurted. “I have no expectations. I’d never ask you to say or do anything you don’t wish to.”

“I know,” you said with a quiet smile. “That’s one of the many things I love about you.”

Jimin reached for you, but you held him back with a hand.

Your words were firm, but not harsh by any means. “I won’t marry you to prove something to the man who never truly looked at me. The last thing he deserves is a political alliance through marriage. My value will be as a knight or not at all.”

“I never knew I wanted a knight and queen before, but now I don’t know how to live without,” Jimin said, breathless. His hand curled around your own, both resting above his heart. The rapid beat echoed your own.

Your answering smirk made his eyes darken impossibly further. “You can court me and ask again. How about that?”

“I don’t think I can stand another jaunt through the woods. That’s your preferred method of courting, I assume,” he teased.

“You asked me to marry you with tear stains all over me,” you said, incredulous. “I couldn’t possibly say yes.”

“What if I ask you tomorrow?”

“What if?” Your smile only grew as he pulled you back into his arms. Your choice. Your freedom. Your future. The enormity of it threatened to bring tears back to your eyes.

“Could I convince you to accept any sooner?”

You hummed, holding him tighter. “I could be convinced to let you kiss me again tonight. Maybe one more time.”

Jimin just smirked. “Is that a challenge?”

“When am I not challenging you, prince?”

* * * * *

Masterlist

#jimin x reader #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fantasy au #jimin imagine #jimin scenarios #jimin fic

130 notes · View notes

dragonbanexxi · 1 year

Text

Soul of Bronze; Blood of Fire

Not Canon Compliant!!!!!

Helaena Targaryen x OC Targaryen Royce

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Heir of Runestone would often joke that he should be referred to as Rhaegar Stone. Seeing as his father (Prince Daemon Targaryen) had no want for him and his mother (Lady Rhea Royce) was long dead. All jokes end when he and Ser Gerold Royce are summoned to the capitol by none other than King Viserys the First of his Name. The King wanting nothing more than to bring his estranged nephew into the fold, Viserys offers Rhaegar his so called Targaryen Right. A betrothal to the Princess Helaena and the chance to claim a dragon. Will Rhaegar be able to claim such a beast? Even if his valyrian skills were lacking? Prince Aemond seems to think so. Though he’s mostly is just thrilled to finally have someone around who’s willing to be his friend. Also the court begins to notice that the Princess Helaena seems to have taken a liking to the new prince. Much to her mothers dismay, who’s fighting tooth and nail to have the girl be given to Aegon. Something neither sibling wanted. To Rhaegar everything was going smoothly until the news of Laena Velaryon death had dampen everything.

Chapter 6: Laena

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Laenor has written” the beautiful woman says quietly as she sits next to her husband.

“Rhaenyra has delivered another son.” The Exiled Prince scoffs.

“Did your brother mention if this one also bears an unremarkable and coincidental resemblance to the commander of the City Watch?” The man saw his wife roll her eyes.

“He seems to have left that detail out.” She drawls.

The beauty’s expression softens “I miss my brother Daemon, as I think do you.”

Ever the sarcastic her husband responds with his classic snark “I miss Westerosi strong wine, it could be drowned on for a few hours of peaceful oblivion.”

Throwing out the last few sprinkles of wine from his goblet to the floor.

“Not like the shit they drink here” he gets up walking to get a view of the glimmering ocean, moon reflecting serenely.

Daemon heard his wife’s gentle footsteps behind him.

“Laenor mentioned something that might interest you.” Laena says in a weary tone that makes the prince nervous. Not that he’d openly show it.

The man turns and leans the on ledge. “Humor me dear.” His wife gave him an unsure look.

For all the seven and a half years of marriage with Daemon, the Velaryon Woman had never spoke of Daemon’s firstborn. Rhaegar Targaryen had always felt like a forgotten memory to her. Guilt had only began to eat away at her during this new pregnancy she was bearing. Even when she was pregnant with the twins, Laena never bothered to speak about the forgotten boy hidden in Runestone.

“Rhaegar Targaryen is in Kings Landing.”

The familiar expression of her husbands kind face was replaced with one he uses for the Rogue Prince. A million emotions fluttering in the mans indigo eyes, Laena couldn’t decipher.

“Laenor says that his grace King Viserys proposed a match between your son and his daughter. The Princess Helaena.”

The war in Daemons mind was no longer able to be hidden. His jaw clenching tightly, and his aquiline nose flaring in anger.

“HOW DARE HE!!!” The man roars while slamming his goblet on the floor. His breathing becoming erratic.

“HE IS MY SON!!”

Laena flinching at his outburst. Perhaps she has made a mistake in telling him about his firstborn. The Velaryon Woman put her slender hands on his shoulders to help calm him down making soft cooing noises.

“Viserys is always doing this Laena!” He hisses “To use my firstborn against me! My brother has sunk to a new low!”

His wife doesn’t know how to respond. Truthfully she had thought Daemon was just going to dismiss the news and act like he has always done when it came to the boy. Ignore his existence.

Guilt swarming in her belly as her baby moved in her womb. It was as if the baby was showing its disappointment to their mother. Making Laena feel worse.

She was no better than Daemon. Carrying on with her life with Daemon not caring if her stepson was being well taken care of. A boy who has suffered life for fourteen years with a dead mother and a deadbeat father. With no one to give the boy any parental affection.

By the Fourteen Flames she truly was a despicable woman.

“Laenor says the boy is faring well.” She begins once more.

“Rhaegar is apparently good at wielding a sword, stating that he has potential of being a strong knight.”

Daemon only hums as he’s taking in the information. Laena wonders what he’s thinking.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this last bit or not.” Seeing as how he reacted badly earlier on, this last bit would surely upset him even more.

“Just say it.” He spits out.

Laena hesitates but continues nonetheless.

“Rhaegar has petitioned to respectfully drop his last name Targaryen in favor of Royce, the king has yet to decide.”

A look of dejection crosses the insulted man’s face. He turns around to view the ocean once more.

“Do you never long for home?” She asks meekly.

“No”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you please.” He cuts her off.

“You’ve lore the virtues of Pentos but you have no interest in it. If you did, you would venture into the city but instead you spend your time here in the library, reading accounts of the same dead Dragonlords who’s legacy you claim has no hold on you.”

Daemon still doesn’t turn around but he responds with “I didn’t know I was being so closely observed.”

“You do not sleep” she cries out softly.

“Well how can I with you haunting my every move?” Still not facing her. He didn’t see the hurt in his lady wife’s eyes.

“Perhaps I have disappointed you. Perhaps I too am not the wife you would have wished for yourself.”

“Laena” he says softly.

“It does not pain me, I have made my peace.” She gets closer to him. Caressing his shoulder.

“But you are more than this Daemon, the man I married is more than this.” She kisses his clothed shoulder.

“Write to Rhaegar dear. A boy needs his father.”

The Rogue Prince only scoffs as he walks away. Leaving Laena alone in the moonlight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#daemon targaryen x rhea royce #helaena targaryen x oc #original targaryen character #targaryen royce oc #helaena targaryen

13 notes · View notes

obeiii-mee · 3 years

Note

Can I angst for Mammon where he is in a really bad mood and his brothers are at it again calling him names. And already ask them kindly to leave him alone but they keep at it. And Levi says something and it's the last straw. The air around them get cold for a moment as he slowly looks up and he flat out threatens them to shut up before he puts them back into there place with a really dark and threatening voice, before leaving. And the look could rival Satan's or even Lucifers glare.

I think Mammon takes the abuse of his brothers but sometimes he isn't in the mood and want a little peace and it is very very rare for him to get pissed

Like he's the kind of person who would yell when he's upset but when he's down right pissed it's like really fucking scary

People forget that as much as he lets his brothers push him around he is still the second oldest and is powerful so 😬

Brothers+ undateables reaction

Mammon snaps:

___________________

This is something I’ve mentioned in previous posts, but I basically second everything you said. I believe that Mammon dislikes getting into confrontations but isn’t by any means weak or stupid. He is the second eldest. However he is also, arguably, the one with the most self control out of them all. He has an overwhelming amount of patience when it comes to his siblings and I like to think he puts up with all of their insults because he loves them. Then again, it’s very possible for him to go berserk after years worth of build up.

Thanks for the request!!! I had a bit of trouble at first because I didn’t know how I was going to format it but I like the way it turned out so I hope you do too. Uhh also I reached my word limit writing this so I couldn’t include Simon, Luke and Solomon. I do plan on writing for them as well but at this point I’m just trying to get this done. Let me know if I made any grammatical errors! I double check my writing all the time but sometimes mistakes got over my head! The undateables are short because honestly I view the brothers as the ones who will suffer the most out of everyone. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway!!

•Characters: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphagour, Diavolo, Barbatos.

⚠️Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood & gore and that’s about it.

___________________

For the past few months, Lord Diavolo’s pleasure of hosting parties and inviting people over had become more and more noticeable. It was pretty obvious that the Prince was lonely, isolating himself from others due to the responsibilities he has as the heir to the throne and a leader in the making. Attending his gatherings seemed like a down right chore for most of the brothers but you never had any problem tagging along. Besides, it felt nice knowing he seemed you worthy of coming to such important meetings. Your seven demons were, of course, also invited and per Lucifer’s orders, they all got cleaned up and dressed in fancy clothing to impress the regals prancing about the castle. Though the outfits themselves came with their own set of problems. Levi’s was way too tight; the collar seemed to annoy him more than anything else, judging by the patches of red skin on his neck. Satan accidentally ripped one of the buttons from his jacket off in a fit of rage earlier that day and was now silently fuming while poking his finger through the hole he made. Even Asmo spilled some water on his shirt before they arrived, ruining his pretty pink suit! Not to mention Beel was munching on his tie, having last eaten about 15 minutes beforehand. Lucifer pulled it out of his mouth and scowled at the saliva stains that were left behind. Safe to say they were all in a miserable mood to begin with.

“I expect all of you to behave in a respectable manner,” Lucifer flicked Belphie on the back of the head just as he began dozing off, making the youngest growl at him. He shot Mammon an irritated look “I’m especially talking to you Mammon. Don’t try to steal anything or I’ll cut your hands off.”

“I told ya big bro, ya don’t have to worry about me! I’ll be a golden child today! Promise!” Mammon held up his pinky as if he was committing to some kind of oath. The eldest darkened his glare and opened his mouth to say something else, but you interrupted in hopes of avoiding any bickering that might’ve followed.

“Look, there’s our table! Let’s go sit down. Lord Diavolo’s speech is going to start any minute now.”

Beel leaped at the table as soon as he sniffed out the appetisers, which were neatly arranged on the expensive tablecloth, shoving at least half of them in his mouth by the time the rest of you caught up with him. Having been seated, you quickly glanced around the room in hopes of spotting Diavolo. You bumped into Solomon and the angels before entering the castle, chit chatting with them for a while about the event. Even now, Luke was excitedly waving at you from across the room, using both of his arms. However, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos were the ones in charge of this party and you were yet to see either of them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Mammon eyeing the golden utensils laid out in front of him. Not the biggest of surprises really. Anytime Mammon sees something along the lines of gold, he can’t help but snatch it away. And there’s obviously so many valuables scattered all over the place, including the silverware that was proudly presented on every table. You sucked in a breath of anticipation when he reached for one of the spoons, only to exhale in relief when he placed it on the bridge of his nose, trying to balance it.

“MC, look at this!” He tapped your shoulder, as always wanting your full and undivided attention as he demonstrated his newfound skill. You giggled at his antics with fondness as he accidentally let the spoon drop with a clatter and a quiet ‘shit’ coming from him. Lucifer pulled on his ear, like a mother scolding her child and whisper-yelled at him to stop acting like an idiot. The only reason the oldest chose a sit right next to Mammon was to maintain order and peace. Basically, he did it for disciplinary reasons.

“I understand that being impertinent is your full-time job, Mammon but keep this up and I’ll throw you in Cerberus’ room. Let him do with you as he pleases.”

“Lucifer, it’s not a big deal-“

“Yeah, OK,” Mammon hissed, picking up the spoon from the recently polished floor with a slight grin that didn’t quiet reach his eyes “I gotcha. Can-“

“Speaking of Cerberus,” Levi suddenly piped in, no longer fussing about his collar or nervously twiddling with his thumbs because of the massive crowd of demons surrounding him “Didn’t you force me to walk him last week when it was your turn to do it?? I only agreed because you promised to buy me the newest Ruri-Chan limited edition body pillow that came out last Tuesday! And you never did! And now they’re out of stock, you scummy piece of-“

The third eldest would’ve leapt across the table and aimed for the throat if you hadn’t pressed a gentle hand against his chest, making him sit back down with a huff. People were starting to stare at the commotion coming from your table, turning heads and muttering between themselves. You were slowly dying from embarrassment by the way, since you guys definitely became the topic of conversation for the other guests. The brothers were being too noisy to even notice and Lucifer himself was too preoccupied to see the scene they were creating which made you further slouch down into your chair, silently hoping for the ground to swallow you whole. The night really wasn’t going as intended. You could hear Solomon laughing at the brothers’ antics from three tables down.

“I guess that’s Mammon for you,” Belphie yawned, barely raising his head from table “He lies everyday, all day. What exactly is new here? And that says something since it’s coming from me.”

“I apologised for that!” Mammon whined, referring to Levi’s accusation and choosing not to address Belphie’s insult “I was gonna buy it but then I realised I spent all my money earlier that week anyway so I couldn’t!”

“Perhaps that wouldn’t happen if you learned how to save the money you earn properly,” Satan muttered, sipping from his glass of whatever beverage he had snatched from the servants earlier “Not like you know how to earn money in any way besides stealing it.”

You watch as Mammon clenched his fist “Can we please just move on-“

“I can’t believe that I was cursed with this moron for a brother,” Asmo sighed, almost theatrically, as if he was performing. And, in a way, he was. People were getting really interested in the drama unfolding over there. It was making you even more anxious, all those eyes staring at you. The Avatar of Lust was leaning so much on his chair, you were sure he was going to topple over and at this point, you kinda hoped he would. Anything to stop this momentum of hatred aimed at Mammon “You’re always getting us in trouble, you know. Hmph, we can’t go anywhere with you Mammon! You always end up ruining it for us! With your stupid schemes and-“

“I’m hungry-“

“Not now, Beel!”

“Cutting him up into tiny pieces for the witches will always be an option,” Lucifer chimed in, smiling at the thought.

Mammon snapped his head upwards at that. It was such an abrupt reaction, it made you jolt a little in your seat. You couldn’t miss the tension radiating from him, how quickly his body stiffened and exactly how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the table. His brothers were still paying him no mind, blaming him for this and that under their breath or being silently judgemental in Lucifer’s case. You worried for him because Mammon rarely acted like this; feral, in a way. Just so you know, he definitely noticed it. The look of concern plastered all over your face. That’s the only reason he released the table from his vice-like grip and slouched back against his chair. Satan went quiet and was staring at Mammon in bewilderment.

He disliked the idea of you watching him lose control of himself. He was your guardian. Your first pact. It’s important to him that your relationship is build around a pillar of trust. And he can’t even expect you to trust him if he exposes you to his demon form every time something inconveniences him. Mammon would rather cease to exit than have you fear him. So he kept his breathing regulated as the fog cleared his mind. The Avatar of Greed isn’t an angry demon. Snuffing out the the flame of rage he had fanned up until then was relatively easy. He just needed to get through tonight, then he could go home and complain to you about it once he got out of his brothers’ earshot.

“Why does he get to spend so much time with MC anyway? He’d probably sell them for a few Grimm any time of the day, wouldn’t he? It’s so fucking unfair. He won’t change no matter what so why risk MC’s safety? I will summon Lotan on him if he starts getting on my nerves.”

It would be an understatement to say that those words rubbed Mammon the wrong way, judging by the lack of immediate response. It was unexpected for him keep his mouth shut at a time like this. What was even more unexpected was the abrupt, delayed reaction he had a few seconds afterwards, resulting in his chair being flung back about 5 feet in that general direction. The seemingly deafening thud it made when it collided with the floor echoed around the dining hall, bouncing off walls and whacking people over the heads with the aggression behind it. A moment of pure, indescribably loud silence filled the crowded space as everyone else stared in shock at their brother, mouths agape and eyes bulging out of their sockets. Mammon would’ve laughed at their faces if it weren’t for the circumstances leading up to that point.

“What gives any of you the right to treat me like some sort of punching bag?” Mammon drawled, accentuating his obviously superior nature to almost every single demon at that table. He laughed, in an oddly half hearted way, before his sea struck gaze landed back to his siblings “Do not try to push me into a corner, because I will not handle it well. You’ve been having a field day with me for centuries now and I’m starting to get really ticked off, ya know? But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve done everything in my power to keep MC alive for the past few months and y’all are acting as if I’m out here playing with their life. Complain about me all you want. But...” He thumped the table, loud enough to make all the noblemen in the room flinch.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I would ever put MC in danger, willingly or not because I will rip out your insides and paint the walls of this palace with them while hanging your intestines from these chandeliers. I will pluck your hairs out one by one, then your nails, then your eyeballs and then your teeth. You’re the ones that have put MC in danger’s way time and time again in the past few weeks, and you’re out here trying to suggest that I would even think about hurting them? Unlike every single one of you, who almost killed my human-you’re lucky I don’t have your fucking heads.”

He smashed his fist into the table again, using even more of his strength this time and effectively breaking the whole thing, the wooden legs giving out and shattering into thousands of splinters. Mammon spoke again, his voice lowering “MC forgave you. I didn’t. And I have no reason to. Not with how you’ve been treating me.”Once he spit that out, Mammon turned on his heel and left, slamming the door shut behind him hard enough to shake the whole building, leaving his siblings in dazed awe.

......

Even more silence. For some reason, all of the brothers at the now broken table ended up looking your way, silently questioning what they should do. It often ended up like this

You gave them all an unimpressed stare and a half-assed shrug “Don’t look at me. You guys fucked up.” Before sliding out of your seat and following Mammon out of the castle, sending an apologetic smile to Diavolo on your way out. Hopefully, you could manage to calm him down before everyone else gets home otherwise this might drag on for a while.

Lucifer:

-In all honesty, he probably saw the signs from a mile away and still decided to ignore them

-Maybe because he believed they weren’t being all that harsh on him, even if in Mammon’s eyes they were

-‘Harsh’ in Lucifer’s vocabulary usually means being hanged upside down from a ceiling or publicly executed, not a couple of mere insults

-Not to mention the eldest had always been horrible at communicating with his brothers when it came to emotions

-Despite Mammon clearly suffering from the treatment he received from his brothers, Lucifer refuses to believe he’s the root of the problem

-As the Avatar of Pride, he always had a hard time realising that all those words and the constant teasing, which he deemed to be pretty harmless, scarred Mammon a lot more than expected

-Once he actually comes to that conclusion, and after getting over the initial shock, Lucifer would probably feel the guiltiest out of them all

-Being the eldest means he carries quite a few burdens on his shoulders as most responsibilities fall on him due to his prideful nature

-He would blame himself for Mammon’s outburst simply because he’s the older brother and he should’ve known better, not just because he sees how a big of a role he played in all of this

-Usually, if his brothers do something bad, then he’s there to fix it within hours, that’s how it always worked

-Except he doesn’t know how to fix this exactly

-The problem is he has no idea how to approach Mammon after that sudden meltdown and he has no idea how to talk it out with him because he sucks at expressing himself verbally

-And since this took place in a public space, Lord Diavolo’s Palace no less, he felt really conflicted on what should have been done at that moment in time

-There was a lot of frustration, embarrassment and confusion in him for a good five minutes after Mammon slammed that door shut behind him and even after he gathered his thoughts together, he was still in shock for the rest of the night

-In any case, the whole event was promptly cancelled and everyone ended up going home earlier than expected, after Lucifer apologised to Diavolo about the spectacle they created (several times)

-When they finally get home, he decided to give Mammon his space instead of trying to knock at his door and instead went back to his room

-He knows they will need to solve this matter soon but there’s no way Mammon will want to see, let alone talk, to any of them just yet

-He’s sort of hoping he can apologise best he can next morning at breakfast, cross his fingers and wish for the best but judging by the venom that laced Mammon’s voice the night before, it’s not likely he will forgive any of them that easily.

Levi:

-If I were to guess, he saw the ending credits of his life flash before his very eyes as soon as those words left his mouth

-Levi felt a panic in him like never before, not even while playing his engaging horror visual novels at 3am in complete darkness or that one time he used Lucifer’s credit card to buy merch before being found out

-Must’ve forgotten his brother technically ranks higher than him on the power scale for a second there

-Or maybe he didn’t think his insults were going to affect him much

-They usually don’t

-Or at least that’s the impression he’s been under for a while now

-Mammon doesn’t snap easily under pressure but Levi must’ve really hit a nerve there that night

-While everyone was sitting in a short silence after Mammon left the building, he started twiddling with his fingers again the more he thought about it

-Because now he went from nervous to fucking terrified of what the hell was waiting for him when he finally got home

-He does feel guilty, nowhere near as much guilt as Lucifer feels but still pure shame

-However most of that guilt is swallowed by a steady fear and the constant worry of ‘how do I stop my brother from killing me?’

-Unlike Lucifer, I honestly don’t see him taking any sort of initiative when it comes to apologising to Mammon

-Not even because he doesn’t want to, but he would freeze up if he were to come face to face with him after that incident and then scamper back to his room like a rat in hiding

-So without your help, it’s likely the two won’t be speaking to each very soon which can honestly make life at the House of Lamentation so much more miserable

-In the end, if either you or Lucifer forced him to, he would say sorry by selling some of his merch and then giving him the profits (in secret but we all know it’s him)

-That is a big sacrifice on Levi’s part considering how precious his merchandise is to him

-But the idea that he’s gonna get murdered in his sleep by his older brother was getting a tad too real

-Besides, Mammon is still his brother and if he has to sell a couple of items in order to make him less mad, he would do it, albeit with a bit of grumbling

-Despite that, Mammon still refuses to come out of his room and sort of relies on you to bring him food because he doesn’t want to see his brothers

-Levi and Mammon would probably have to rebuild a lot of their relationship after this but it could easily take months for that to happen since Levi is too terrified to look him in the eye and Mammon is too upset to even hear his voice

Satan:

-He wouldn’t be the Avatar of Wrath if he couldn’t spot the anger within someone from a mile away

-He’s always been able to recognise the fury building up inside of him so for Satan it’s second nature to just know when someone’s on the brink of snapping

-It’s no surprise to say that he probably noticed Mammon’s wrath spilling out before anyone else did

-But alas, he realised it too late

-If he had reacted quicker, maybe he would’ve been able to diffuse Mammon before he exploded on them. Or not

-It’s difficult to tell if he could’ve actually helped because who was he to tell Mammon to calm down??? If anyone told him that while he was throwing a fit, he would probably break their necks-

-In the end, he just pressed his lips into a straight line and watched his brother throw his chair across the room

-Not gonna lie, he found it a bit entertaining purely because of the look on Lucifer’s face

-Satan had to try really hard not to crack a smile because he knew Mammon would probably smash a glass against his head or something

-Even so, he was the first to stand up and offer to go after him, though he wasn’t sure he could do much consoling

-Being so experienced with anger meant that he knew Mammon had built himself into a rage that he won’t be able to escape out of too easily

-Which is why he advises Lucifer to give Mammon his space once they get home

-Overall, the most understanding out of all of the brothers

-At this point in time, probably the least judgemental out of everyone and once Mammon comes out of his room for the first time in a while, either him or Beel is going to apologise to him first

-He may push and push him alongside the rest of his siblings but I feel like Satan doesn’t want to reach a certain low, like cornering Mammon into the frenzy he had that day ever again

-He might get pissy with him if he’s being too stubborn to forgive anyone after coming down from his intrusive thoughts

-And he really hates that Mammon had to remind them about all the times you had nearly died because of them, because he knows they won’t be able to make it up to you so why is Mammon upset about this????

-But he will try to maintain respect for his older brother from then on

-Even if the sharpest of remarks is on the top of his tongue!

Asmo:

-Asmo is the type to laugh it off and then start feeling really upset about it later on, the longer he thinks about the whole thing

-After Mammon storms out, he just assumes it’s another one of those ‘Mammon’ things and tried to brush the feeling of unease off him

-Even so, later that night the memory of Mammon kept coming back to him while he laid in his bed, unable to have a nice rest for the first time in how long? He’s always been really strict about his sleeping schedules after all

-Asmo’s observant, almost on par with Satan himself when it comes down to it. He definitely saw the gleam of anger, pent up frustration and hatred in his brothers’ eyes that moment and it legitimately scared him, even if it was for just half a second

-Honestly, he begins neglecting himself out of anticipation and worry which is a huge red flag for the Avatar of Lust who always holds himself at such a superior level compared to everyone else

-It may start out slow, but it has the same effect as a snowball rolling down the hill. It becomes more of a problem the longer it’s ignored

-Because he spends most of his days now debating whether he should try to coax his brother into coming out of his room and apologising to him, he forgets about himself

-Skincare routines are missed, pedicure appointments have been cancelled; hell, if Mammon’s keeps being stubborn, he may let his hair become absolutely filthy

-Asmo sort of relies on his brothers to provide the living environment he revolves around. If something is off with his brothers, he can not work properly either because it doesn’t feel right to do so

-Imagine a machine not working anymore because one of the clogs in it got stuck

-I can see Asmo feeling a decent amount of guilt when it comes to the situation but he still blames Levi for completely pushing him over the edge at dinner

-So now those two aren’t talking (it’s honestly so exhausting since they’re shoving the blame onto each other without stop)

-If Mammon decides to come out and hear them out, Asmo might get on his knees and beg because that guilt bubbling up inside of him may end up being his demise

-No seriously, MC might need to keep an eye out on him too while comforting Mammon because whatever he is doing isn’t healthy

-Takes Mammon’s outburst pretty badly and tries apologising to him many times but the second eldest still hasn’t said a word to any of them

-And that’s driving him into a fucking swirl of insanity at this point

-Of course, much like Mammon’s mental breakdown, this builds up over time but the result can be devasting

-If you pass by his room at night, you could probably hear him sob about how his brother hates him and it’s really heartbreaking to hear pained cries like that coming from such an overly confident demon like Asmo

Beel:

-Literally the only one here that doesn’t dish out insults onto Mammon every hour of the day

-He joins in very rarely and even when he does, it’s usually in good nature rather than malice

-Unless food is involved. Feelings (and Mammon) might be hurt if that’s the case

-Beel wasn’t listening to his siblings as they were diminishing Mammon, he was way too hungry to comprehend what the hell they were on about

-So he just started wolfing down appetisers until he noticed you looking all weary

-That’s the first thing that put him on alert

-And then the second born’s aura was also...off putting

-Might’ve actually tried to nudge Belphie to stop him from saying anything offensive to Mammon in this state when he realised how tense the atmosphere got

-Flinched when his brother left the palace, almost cracking the whole doorway on his way out

-Hunger is all but gone and at this point he wants to go home to check up on him

-Beel is a bit of a softie and he wears his heart on his sleeve a lot of the times

-He never did anything particularly bad to Mammon, not on the same scale his brothers did certainly and yet he still felt extremely bad

-Perhaps because he didn’t step in as much as he should’ve...?

-Either way, when his loved ones suffer, he has a tendency of putting the blame on himself because he feels it’s the only logical answer

-Honestly, he feels guilty enough to the point where it’s affecting his eating habits-which is obviously not normal for the Avatar of Gluttony

-Beel knows Mammon doesn’t want to talk to him but he still brings him food and leaves it at the doorstep of his room since he doesn’t want to come out and have dinner with them

-Or he relies on you to give it to him

-The thought of Mammon being so mad at them that he doesn’t even want to eat makes him feel so vulnerable

-As soon as he sees him for the first time since that night, he will probably be the first to apologise, even if Mammon isn’t in the mood to hear apologies

-Again, he’s trying to use food to make up to him (bringing him his favourites and paying for them)

-Even if he gets ignored, he’s still going to do it

-Beel is trying his best to say sorry to his older brother the only way he knows how to do so, but Mammon still doesn’t give in

Belphie:

-Could’ve been asleep the whole time Mammon was thrashing about

-Or at least that’s what it looked like to the average passer-by

-Kept one eye open to watch as Mammon finally snapped under pressure, having to raise his head once his brother broke the whole god damned table

-“OK, alright, storm off I guess-I have a splinter now-“

-Don’t trust that sarcastic commentary, he’s in deep thought on the inside

-Maybe he should’ve expected this but then again, he never would’ve guessed Mammon had it in him to be so aggressive

-Will narrow his eyes at him when he talks your death and scowl

-As if he didn’t already feel like the world’s biggest piece of shit, he had to bring that up

-As soon as he leaves, he turns to Lucifer and goes “See what you did? You broke Mammon. You suck, Lucifer.”

-The shifting of blame suits Belphie really well (it takes Beel side glancing him to get him to shut up)

-The Avatar of Sloth is too tired to even try to communicate with his brother so he goes straight to bed after getting home

-However, he actually visits Mammon’s dreams that night

-Or at least tries to, if Mammon is getting any sleep after that showdown

-It’s his way of checking in with his brother, helps him evaluate the situation

- Whether that works or not, there was definitely an attempt that required a lot of effort and you don’t see that very often with Belphagour

-It really demonstrates how much he actually cares for his family, even if he hides behind snide remarks and the likes of it

-However, if Mammon refuses communication, then he can’t do anything but give up

-He clearly won’t be able to convince him to step aside for a chit chat and why waste energy trying to force him to do so

-When the time comes, Belphie knows his brother will willingly talk to him (or at least someone else because he knows he’s not any good at comfort or apologies)

-At the same time, a lot of the things Mammon said during that party rubbed him the wrong way and seeing his twin suffer because of it is also pissing him off so patience may be running thin with Belphie

-Like Levi, there may be a lot of ice between the two from then onwards so it won’t be easy for them to find the middle ground in this whole argument either

-It could lead to a strained relationship if no one intervenes or even a physical fight if the youngest pushes all of Mammon’s buttons properly

Diavolo:

-The Future King feels guilty too, for some reason

-He is clearly not involved but he’s under the impression his party was a catalyst of sorts to the fight that broke out that night

-Diavolo wasn’t even in the same room when it happened-he heard shouting and growling from next door whilst talking to a noble about future arrangements in DevilDom and rushed in

-The sight was something to behold really; Mammon cornering all of his brothers and threatening them with pure venom in his voice wasn’t something you saw everyday

-More often than not, it was the other way around so the Prince had every right to be concerned

-He tried asking Lucifer what was going on after the second eldest slammed the door shut behind him and left but to no avail; the Avatar of Pride was in a state of shock and the only thing he did was apologise to him about a million times before his departure with the rest of his siblings

-Despite his worry, Diavolo tried not to get involved in the aftermath either, believing it’s not his place to interfere and hoping they would solve it out amongst themselves

-He did give Mammon permission to miss RAD classes for that week, thinking a small break is what he needed most

-Even drops by every now and then to check up on him (he just asks you how he’s holding up because he doesn’t want to pry)

-He can’t do much but watch from the sidelines, I mean this is a family dispute so it would be wise to just give them all a bit of space

-If it drags on for too long, however, he will be forced to do something because the brothers are all distracted and can’t get on with their student council work because of it

-Lucifer is even more stressed than usual and can’t even focus during their meetings so for the sake of his friend, if nothing gets resolved quickly, he will intervene and it won’t be pretty

-For now, he’s counting on you to make sure there are no further incidents but it’s unlikely you can stop a train once it’s set in motion so just hope Mammon doesn’t come out of his room until he’s calmed down

Barbatos:

-The butler is a Time Lord so it’s probably no surprise to find out he already knew this was going to happen eventually

-Not like he believed Mammon was going to take his brothers’ insults for much longer anyway

-Being the quiet and observant demon he is, he’s been keeping a close eye on the Avatar of Greed knowing damn well he was going to lose his patience soon enough and go on the offence

-If he knew this was going to happen at such an important moment in time, he would’ve warned his majesty beforehand but he failed to see the potential catastrophe awaiting his breakdown

-Again, he has no right to intervene

-Unless, of course, Lord Diavolo asks him to do so but really the most he can do is give you tips on how to deal with miserable demons

-I mean, you’re the one that’s going to be stuck with them for the rest of the year and this isn’t the type of conflict that gets resolved too easily

-Barbatos is clever so if there is still bitterness between Mammon and his siblings after an amount of time passed, he might try to change timelines (with the permission of Diavolo)

-He’s had enough of Beel coming over to eat his cakes and cry about his older brother hating him (believe it or not, the butler is definitely a bit fond of the sixth eldest so his cries did pull at his heartstrings)

-Basically, in the same position as the Prince

-He relies on you to get them all to make up but he knows it’s not likely to happen any time soon

-For now, he’s getting ready for the chain reaction this fight set in motion because there was no easy way to end this, considering they’re all vicious demons and all

—————————————————————-

Al~ im mad I couldn’t add Simon, Luke and Solomon-I want to write for them too >:(

1K notes · View notes

luna-writes-stuff · 3 years

Note

I would be honored if you could do an imagine for Fili crushing on someone who went on the journey with the Company. He thought she liked his brother, but after seeing him with Tauriel, Fili feels like he has a chance and offers everything to make her as happy as he thought she would be with Kili. Lovely fluff and some misunderstandings with everyone living because IF I CAN'T SEE CANON THEN IT DOESN'T EXIST

Mixed signals, Fili Durin (platonic Kili x reader)

what do you mean they don’t usually live???? Idk I always skip the last half hour of botfa. If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.

Ahahah I got taken away a bit so it’s a long request. Sorry….

Headcanons, female s/o

Tw: misunderstood feelings, mention of injury and blood, tiny sprinkle of angst, fluff, Kili being a lil shit, Fili being jealous, few mentions of Y/N I’m so sorry.

- This man is whipped for you. I posted a request similar to this one yesterday, and I feel like it says enough.

- The moment he sees you, he knows you’re his One. Yet, he can’t allow himself to show you. His brother wouldn’t shut up about it and besides that, after Erebor was to be reclaimed, he had to marry royalty in order to form an alliance.

- But Thorin wasn’t blind. He has seen the look in Dis’ eyes many times before. He had seen his sister find her One, so it came as nothing out of the ordinary when he witnessed his nephew do the same.

- And this is pre-dragonsickness. Back when Thorin was all “I hate everyone but I guess I have to keep up with these two idiots so I’ll tolerate them.”

- And he wanted to grant Fili the opportunity to be with his One. He had even told him to simply go for it.

- But Fili was a bit insecure. When you met him, you didn’t seem taken away in any way. It was almost as if it had only been him who was in love.

- And with that, you had grown remarkably close to his brother, Kili. You two joked around all the time. You sat together during the evenings, Kili would help you up on your horse/pony, he would take offer your watches and he even let you hold his bow and arrow. That is basically dwarven language for “I love you and I wish to court you” or “I love you and I’m so glad to have you in my family.”

- What Fili didn’t know is that Thorin told Kili about you being his One. But instead of teasing Fili about it, Kili had made it his duty to agitate his brother so much that he would have no choice but to confess to you before Kili would sneak you away.

- For your information: Kili had no intention of sneaking you away. He just wanted to make it look like it for Fili, and, lucky for him, you had just been going along with it subconsciously.

- But it did not agitate Fili. It made the poor lad confused and tired. You were showing so much affection and endearment to his brother that he felt like he could never compete. Even though Kili had never been attractive in dwarven standards, he knew his way around women. And seeing someone finally pay attention to him, made Fili happy for his brother.

- And Kili just kept up with the act. He was oblivious to what his brother was feeling. Thorin had quite specifically told Kili not to tell his brother, and for once, he didn’t. But when days turned into weeks, Kili made more advances. Not in any way uncomfortable for you, but they had been a step further.

- He would let you rest against him during night shifts, he would let his hand linger on your waist when he helped you get onto your horse/pony. This sneaky bastard even managed to toy with your hair.

- Fili grew absolutely devastated at these moments. He had distanced himself more and truly felt as if his One had been taken away and he would die alone.

- But then Mirkwood happened. It was obvious to Fili that his brother had taken a liking on Tauriel, the female elf that saved him earlier. You had been passed out of exhaustion in your cell, not paying attention to your surroundings anymore.

- And that was when Fili finally decided to speak.

- “What are you doing? I thought you liked Y/N and now you’re flirting with that elf? You can’t treat her like that!”

- And now Kili was confused.

- “I thought you liked Y/N?” He had questioned, not even knowing whether his uncle had been lying to him or not.

- “That doesn’t matter. What matters is, you can’t just run around-“ but Kili had already cut him off. “It does matter. Because Y/N isn’t my One. I’m not attracted to her!”

- And now Fili was dead silent. He had been contemplating on whether to act furious or taken aback. In reality, he had been a bit of both.

- “You don’t like Y/N?” Fili asked, nearly insulted.

- “I was only trying to agitate you. Uncle said she was your One but that you wouldn’t confess.” Kili admitted finally, knowing that keeping the act up any longer wouldn’t work.

- “So you tried to beat it out of me?” The only response the blonde got was a quiet hum.

- “You thought I would take away your chance of happiness?” Fili wondered aloud, his anger now showing more clearly. “Well, not if you put it like that-“ “How else am I supposed to put it?”

- With those words, the space grew quiet. One more question lingered on Fili’s mind, and he had to ask it.

- “Does she know you don’t like her?” A short pause was heard from Kili before he responded. “She does. When we grew closer she told me she wasn’t attracted to me and I told her she wasn’t my One.”

- A sigh of relief came Fili’s way, but his brother kept on talking. “She grew all confused by the concept of ‘Ones’. Had to give her a whole history lesson. She thinks it’s adorable. I’m sure she won’t reject you.” With those words, Fili’s ears pricked up.

- “How so?” “Because every time we are together, she won’t stop asking me about you.” Fili never thought someone could ever bring him more butterflies than when you smiled at him, but as Kili’s sentences reached him, his stomach felt all light again.

- “At first I thought it was because you were ignoring her, but I quickly figured out that wasn’t the case.” Kili shot a quick look his brother’s way, even though he had been in a cell on the other side of the hall. “She likes you, she really does. She’s not as good at hiding it as you are. If you ask her to court you, she won’t say no.”

- Fili had spent the entire night pondering over his brother’s words. Even as they escaped the dungeons and took the boat to Laketown, his anxiety bubbled up.

- But as soon as the orcs entered the city, reality sunk back in. They had been on the run while simultaneously claiming their homeland. There might be a chance neither of you would make it. And it terrified him.

- As you were busy holding off the orcs in Bard’s home, Fili had been right beside you covering your back. He knew asking you to court him would require more steps. Up until this moment you had only held a handful of conversations, but Fili was running out of patience.

- “When all this is over, I need you by my side.” He told you quickly, his voice heavy as he fenced off the attackers. You grew confused at your words, yet your actions did not falter one bit. And it only made Fili more attracted to you. How you maintained yourself on a battlefield, yet somehow managed to hold that perfect look. It could quite easily take his breath away.

- “But I am by your side.” You answered, not catching his meaning, thinking it had been too good to be true.

- “I mean by my side at Erebor. When we reclaim the mountain. Will you stay with me?” Upon your silence, Fili tried explaining his speech. “I know asking you to court me requires more steps but we might not have time for them anymore. I need you to stay with me. We can do all these steps afterwards, I promise.”

- You cast him a quick look before giving him a sincere nod. “I’ll stay with you.”

- And that is exactly what you did. Upon finally arriving at the mountain with the four dwarves, Fili finally got the time to braid your hair, even if Thorin told him to look for the Arkenstone. You had even managed to braid his hair too, even though you had no beads yet.

- Even as Thorin slowly grew insane, Fili had done what he promised; he remained by your side, defending you against his uncle and keeping you as safe as he could.

- During the battle of the five armies, you stayed with him and Kili. You traveled with the three of you, not once separating. Not even when Fili decided you should split up. Because of that, you managed to do quite a number on Azog before Thorin called out to him.

- Azog had gotten a good slash on your leg, nothing life threatening but enough to make you collapse on the spot. Fili had been so worried. He had promised to look out for you, but now you were bleeding out on the snow covered floor. Kili had already ran off for help, even though the possibility he would come back with one would be highly unlikely, as battle was still raging on.

- On top of Ravenhill everything had grown silent. Bodies of dead orcs were littered over the floor but all that mattered to Fili right now was you being safe. Eventually, Kili had ran back with Bilbo, Thorin and Gandalf by his side. They had successfully beaten Azog, finally putting an end to the bloodshed.

- As the mountain was being rebuilt, Oin had put you on bed rest to let your leg heal and Fili had been with you the entire time. Thorin hadn’t even tried to get him for royal duties. He knew he had been awful to you during his dragonsickness, and this was his way of apologizing to you. And you had been fine with it.

- When you had finally recovered, Kili took you to the forges to make beads for Fili. You wanted it to be a surprise for him, but you needed supervision. At first, Dis, Fili and Kili’s mother, had offered to help, but it had become her duty to distract the crown prince.

- A few burns and scratched had started to form on both your and Kili’s hands but it had been worth it. The beads were incredible.

- Fili was so happy when you gave them to him. He was so surprised by the amazing details and the thought and time your poured into them.

- He wears them the entire time. Now exceptions. Not even for bed or bath. None. They must always be in his hair.

- I WANNA WRITE MORE BUT IT’S ALREADY SO LONG BUT JUST ASSUME HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH AND WILL TREASURE YOU FOREVER AND LOVE YOU FOR EVERY LITTLE THING YOU DO

#Fili #Fili durin #tolkien #lord of the rings #the hobbit #the company #the company of thorin oakenshield #Fili x reader #Fili imagine

613 notes · View notes

theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

Text

Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.”

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life.

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive.

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall.

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes.

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling.

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses.

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room.

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls.

The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

“Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

“Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint.

One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version.

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over.

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.”

“Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed.

“But – “

“I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

“Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin.

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

“Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Marvel tags: @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines @luluthegreatandterrible @bambamwolf87 @drakesfiance @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

1K notes · View notes

angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years

Text

I just want Severus being a protective dad to Harry. Like,

(or, some conversations i think should happen.)

Year One

Severus: It’s not me, Harry.

Harry: But Dad, you like magical shiny things -

Severus: Harry. Go bother Professor Quirrell.

One book later…

Severus, storming through the castle on a rampage: WHO THE FUCK HIRED THAT TURBAN BITCH WHO TRIED TO KILL MY SON?!

Year Two

Harry: They’re going after Muggleborns. Like Mom and Hermione.

Severus: *pen snaps in his hand under desk* Hm. I’ll take care of it, Harry.

In Mcgonogall’s office later with her and Dumbledore…

Severus: My son is coming home with me whether you like it or not. And I’m inviting every other student too.

Dumbledore: We have everything under control.

Mcgonogall: Severus, I hate to break this to you, but four thousand students are not just going to follow you home.

Severus: *laser eyes ignite* They will if I offer them free A’s and no homework. And I think you’re forgetting that my son is the Chosen One, Minerva.

Mcgonogall: Bitch if you think I won’t slap you -

Dumbledore: *snores loudly*

The rest of the book later…

Severus: You are never allowed to speak Parseltongue again.

Harry: Then how will we talk when you’re in your Animagus form?

Severus: *mocking Harry’s voice* Then how will we talk when you’re in your Animagus form? We won’t, you idiot! I only do that for incredibly dangerous missions or to get some goddamn alone time!

Harry:

Harry: *starts to tear up*

Severus: Oh no. Oh no no no. Harry, no, don’t cry, not the crying, I didn’t mean, fuck, love, no, I, Harry -

Year Three

Harry: Dad, um… Professor Lupin invited me for tea.

Severus, without looking up from drawing smiley faces all over graded tests: Yes, yes. Go see him. Don’t be late. And tell him a good strong “fuck you” from me.

Half a book later…

Severus: I can’t believe you laughed at that paper’s comment on my nose.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: I did not marry James Potter and Lily Evans so our son could make fun of me. I have not dragged myself through thirteen years of your incessant crying and misplaced sarcasm to have you laugh at my nose. I could have killed myself Harry. You could have grown up with Petunia.

Harry: Dad, I’m sorry -

Severus, huffing and dropping down in his chair and turning his back on Harry: My only son. A traitor!

Harry: *groans*

The other half of the book later…

Severus: SIRIUS. THIS IS WHY YOU LET ME COME UP WITH THE PLANS.

Sirius: Snape -

Severus: SHUT UP YOU FOUL-BREATHED HEATHEN. COULD YOU NOT HAVE HAD THE COMMON DECENCY TO AT LEAST CLUE REMUS IN ON YOUR LITTLE PLAN?

Remus, stepping in front of Sirius: Now, Severus -

Severus, angrily pointing at them: NO! NO. HE’S YOUR HUSBAND, THAT MAKES YOU COMPLICIT. WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?

Hermione: Uh, guys? Full moon?

Remus and Sirius: Shit.

Severus, already rolling up his sleeves and tugging his idiot son and said idiot son’s idiot friends out of the Shack: Come meet James, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. They’re not that bad, she said…

Year Four

Severus: No.

Harry: I didn’t put my name in there, believe me, but Dumbledore says -

Severus: Fuck Dumbledore. I’m your father and I said no.

Harry: Dumbledore says there’s wards -

Severus: No.

Harry: But -

Severus: No.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: No.

Most of a book later in Severus’ office…

Harry, curled against Severus’ robes: Dad, he just… and Cedric… he’s back… it’s all my fault - *bursts into tears*

Severus: *kisses the top of Harry’s head* Nonsense. I’ll protect you, love. You’re gonna be just fine. And Voldy dearest can just fuck right off if he thinks he can get to the son of James Potter and Severus Snape and Lily fucking Evans -

Harry: *laughs wetly and wipes his eyes and nose on Severus’ robes*

Severus: *withholds disownment*

Rest of the book later in Dumbledore’s office…

Dumbledore: *sighs* Severus -

Severus: *whirls around and points angrily* NO. I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT ALBUS. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES MY SON HAS NARROWLY AVOIDED DEATH IN YOUR SCHOOL? I WANT MORE SECURITY PROTOCOLS AND I WANT THEM NOW.

Dumbledore: *face scrunches up like a lemon* You want me to… what, Harry-proof the school?

Severus: *crosses arms over chest* Yes.

Dumbledore: *sighs* Severus -

Year Five

Severus: She did what.

Harry: *swallows nervously* Um. Nothing, Dad, just a blood quill -

Severus: A FUCKING WHAT NOW?!

Five minutes later…

Hermione: Harry? Why is your father cussing out Professor Umbridge and hexing her luggage when she’s not looking in the courtyard?

Ron: Yeah, and why’d I see him pay Fred and George like five hundred galleons in the hallway back there?

Harry, watching his father literally throw Umbridge down the steps while still shouting curse words in languages Harry didn’t even know existed: *facepalms*

Most of a book later…

Harry, sobbing and limping towards Severus: Dad… Dad, she killed… Dad, Sirius… *sobs brittlely*

Severus: *kisses the top of Harry’s head and pushes him gently into Remus’ shaking arms* Nonsense, love. Now, where’s the stupid veil?

Remus: *points trembling finger*

Severus: *nods sharply*

Severus: *returns ten minutes later dragging a soaking wet and violently shaking but otherwise fine Sirius Potter Lupin behind him* Found him.

Remus: *immediately pulls Sirius into the filthiest kiss of his life*

Severus: *wrinkles his nose* You’re welcome.

Harry: *laughs wetly and buries his face in Severus’ robes* Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you -

Severus: *awkwardly pats head* Um. Sure.

Unseen epilogue we all wanted…

Severus: I now pronounce you Dumb and Dumber.

Harry: *nudges Severus* Dad.

Severus: *huffs* Husband and husband, whatever.

Sirius: *grins devilishly and dips Remus back in a kiss*

Harry: *claps enthusiastically*

Severus: *gags to hide his face as he wipes away a tear*

At the reception…

Harry: *puts a flowercrown of lilies on Severus’ head*

Severus: I’m disowning you. You’re no longer my son. Enjoy homelessness, bitch -

Harry: Mum and Dad would like it.

Severus, now bright red and squeaky: Ah. Well. Fuck you.

Harry: *leans his head on Severus’ shoulder* I love you, Dad.

Severus, grumbling: You suck, kid.

Year Six

Severus: Give me your wand.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: Give me your wand.

Harry: Dad, Draco deserved it -

Severus: *shoots up and leans over the desk* Harry James Potter Evans Snape. No one deserves what you just did. What you just did was moronic, stupid, and above all, cruel. I know you’ve heard the stories about your idiot father and you know better than that, Harry. You are better than that. And if you want to make your parents proud, and I know you do, this incident will never be repeated. Do you understand?

Harry, in tears: Yes, Dad.

Severus, through gritted teeth: Yes, what?

Harry: Yes, I understand and I won’t do it again.

Severus: *sits back in his chair* Good. Now give me your wand.

Harry: *hands over wand*

Harry: *sniffs*

Severus, sighing and standing up: Come here.

Harry: *shuffles into his arms*

Severus: *kisses his head* I love you, kid.

Harry, sniffling: Mmph.

Severus: *closes his eyes* And I’m proud of you. We all are.

Harry: *laughs wetly and shoves his face into Severus’ robes* We’re proud of you too, Dad.

A quarter of a book later…

Harry: Hey Dad, I found this awesome book and I don’t know who wrote it but -

Severus: Give that to me, Harry.

Harry: But Dad! This thing is literally the only reason I’m passing Potions at all -

Severus: I know. Because you told Minerva you want to be an Auror. Now that, Mr. Potter, is a fucking lie, and you shouldn’t be taking Potions anymore. So. What do you really want to do?

Harry:

Harry: I wanna be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Severus: There you go. But bitch, if you get the position before me -

Harry: Dad -

Severus: And if you tell anyone who wrote this book I swear to Merlin I’ll make sure you meet your parents far earlier than expected -

Harry: The Half-Blood Prince? Why? Do you know him?

Severus:

Severus: I’m raising a dumbass.

Half a book later…

Harry: *bursts rudely into Severus’ office* Dad, Draco -

Severus: I know, Harry.

Harry: No, you don’t, this time I’m actually -

Severus: I know, Harry.

Harry: Dad, he’s -

Severus: *finally looks up from grading papers* Harry. I know. It’s okay.

Harry, sputtering: It’s not okay -

Severus: Harry, love. I don’t lie to you.

Harry:

Harry: I know. Okay.

Severus: *looks back down at his papers* Just don’t be dick.

Harry: I do not -

Severus: *raises his eyebrow*

Harry: Yes, Dad.

Three quarters of a book later…

Severus: So. Harry. I heard you’re dating Ginny Weasley.

Harry: No. Nope. I’m not.

Severus: I see. Well, either way -

Harry: Oh no.

Severus: Oh, yes. We need to have this conversation; you’re a growing sixteen year old boy. Of course, as your body grows there will be things -

Harry, bright red: No. No no no. Oh my god, Dad -

Severus, maintaining intense eye contact: When two or more people love each other very much, like your parents and I did -

Harry: *bolts right up* Dad, I will go to the Astronomy Tower and throw myself off right the fuck now if you don’t shut up, I swear to Merlin.

Severus: Good. Now, about protection -

Harry: I’ll do it.

Severus: So you’ve said. Madame Pomfrey has -

Harry: *throws his hands up in the air* I’m not even dating anyone!

Severus: *gives him a look* Of course people will be lining up eventually, you are the Chosen One after all.

Severus: *gives Harry a once-over and smirks*

Severus: Though I do wonder how you plan to defeat You-Know-Who when you can’t even sit through a discussion about the protection charms your mother cast when she sacrificed herself for you.

Harry:

Harry: OH MY GOD DAD THAT’S NOT FUNNY -

Severus: *giggling manically*

The rest of the book later…

Harry: Dad. No. Please, no.

Severus: I’m sorry, Harry.

Severus, externally: *looks at Dumbledore* Avada Kedavra.

Severus, internally: That’s what you get for hurting my son, you shitty old bitch.

Year Seven

Hermione: Harry, you need to talk about it.

Harry, setting up a tent “successfully”: Talk about what? I’m fine.

Hermione: *sighs* Your dad.

Harry: Okay. You wanna talk about your Obliviated parents?

Hermione:

Harry: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Ron: *accidentally knocks the tent over*

Meanwhile, Severus…

Severus, staring blankly at the Carrows: What son.

Carrow #1: *sneers* Your son. Harry Potter.

Severus:

Severus: You think I raised that idiot?

Carrow #2: That’s… actually a fair point.

Severus: *huffs and crosses his arms over his chest*

Severus: *flips hair*

Severus, internally: Damn right it is, bitch.

Severus, externally: See? Obviously not my son.

Carrow #1, snickering: Plus no one would ever sleep with you.

Severus: *turns his head slowly so he can glare right into Carrow #1’s eyes*

Severus, in that dangerous, painfully slow drawl of his: Of course not. Carrot.

In Mcgonogall’s office at three a.m….

Severus: Where is he?

Mcgonogall: I don’t know, Severus.

Severus: But he’s alive, right?

Mcgonogall, sighing: If he wasn’t we’d have heard by now.

Severus, pacing: Right. Right. He’s fine. He’s fine. Har - he’s fine.

Half a book later…

Severus, poking his head into the Gryffindor common room at like two a.m.: Hello? Y’all coming?

Ginny, stepping forward while the rest of Gryffindor rallies behind her with small bags and pillows: Yeah.

Severus, creeping into the Hufflepuff dorms: Marshmallows? You guys ready?

Hufflepuffs, in perfect chorus as they gather with blankets and stuffies: Yes, Professor.

Severus, knocking on the Ravenclaws’ doors: Yo, smartasses, it’s time.

Luna, hugging a stuffed white rabbit with the rest of Ravenclaw behind her: Hi, Professor.

Severus: *heart melts a little bit* Hello, Luna.

Severus: *leads them all to the Room of Requirement under a mass invisibility spell*

Severus: *gets them all settled for a long-term sleepover*

Severus, straightening up: Okay. Anyone want goodnight hugs?

A few pages later…

Severus: You have a list for me?

Draco, handing over a piece of parchment: It’s alphabetized.

Severus: Hm. Thank you.

Severus: *reads list*

Severus: Get Zabini to put Zonko’s products in the bed of everyone on this list. Have Pansy get the rest of you prepped on the plan. If you’re all still on board, that is.

Draco: *shrugs* We may be Slytherins, sir, but we’re not cowards.

Severus: *eyes suddenly shiny* No. No, you’re not.

Most of a book later I think I haven’t read them in years…

Harry: You killed him.

Severus: *pleads with his eyes*

Harry: How dare you stand where he stood?

Severus, internally: FUCK why do I have to be the tortured one??? Kiss me, James said. Marry me, James said. Let’s have a kid, James said. This is all his fault. I swear Jamie when I die I am going to kill you. You fuckwad -

Severus, externally: *starts shooting harmless spells at Mcgonogall*

Quite a bit later…

Severus, internally: Fuck, I hate snakes. Why is that my Animagus? I already have this shitty tattoo and I’m in the snake House why do I need to die by a fucking snake too oh look my son’s here that’s humiliating

Harry, overwhelmed with tears: Dad -

Severus, internally: I’m fine go away jeez

Severus, externally: *gurgles*

Harry: *flurries his hands around Severus’ body uselessly*

Hermione, exasperated: Harry, move.

Harry, blubbering now: *whimpers* Mione -

Hermione, wand out and pointed at Severus’ wounds: Harry, move.

Two minutes later…

Severus, freshly healed and more than a little pissed off: Now let’s go tell that snake ass motherfucker to go fuck himself -

Harry, clinging to him desperately: Daddy you can’t -

Severus: Like fuck I can’t. That slimy ass shitwipe killed my spouses, tried to kill me, and has gone after you for your entire life as if you don’t have enough shit to deal with already so yeah I’m gonna go murder him.

Harry, burying his face in Severus’ robes: Dad, I have to go.

Severus: No, you don’t.

Harry: It’s the right thing to do.

Severus: Since when I have cared about the right thing?

Harry: Since always.

Severus:

Severus: You’re grounded for the rest of your life after you survive this.

Harry: *laughs wetly* Dad, I’m not gonna -

Severus: *kisses his forehead* I love you, Harry.

Harry: I love you, Dad.

*dead silence*

Hermione: Harry. We have to go.

Harry, whispering: Keep them safe, Dad.

Severus, also whispering: Of course, love.

Idontevenfuckingknow later…

Voldemort: Harry Potter is dead!

Everyone: *crying*

Severus, internally: The fuck no he’s not like you could kill my son.

Severus, externally: *stares at Voldemort*

Five minutes later…

Harry: Expelliarmus!

Severus: I KNEW IT

The end…

Harry: Hi, Dad.

Severus, tugging him into a hug: You’re grounded forever you fucking idiot.

Harry, grinning and hugging back: Yeah, I figured as much.

A little bit after the end…

Remus: You did a good job.

Sirius: You really did. I can’t say I’m not surprised.

Severus, internally: I can’t believe I saved your life you fucking dick.

Severus, externally: I know.

364 notes · View notes

boytouya · 3 years

Text

𝙒𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙖 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙩𝙚!

words: 1.2k

warning: profanity

request: “HELLO! <3 how r u !! could I request a mean male reader bullying back bakugou yet flirting w/ him at the same time? arson boy would be so disturbed. 😭your requests say open but PLEASE ignore this if they’re not, for my own dodge of self-embarrassment, LMFAOOO Ɛ/>”

a/n: i’m doing alright, sweetheart! i hope you’ve been doing well. this has been sitting in my inbox since april i’m so sorry!!! i hope i could do this request justice. i’m considering making it longer.. i didn’t wanna make the reader an unlikeable kind of mean so i went with something more tame, that’s why it sounds more like friends going back and forth :)

“Get your filthy paws off me!” Katsuki snarls, the link gums of his mouth exposed as he bares his teeth. If there were one word to describe him, it’d be feral. Sharp canines, an angular jawline and rough scarlet eyes that had a never ending blaze behind them. They were a deep shade of red, almost appearing brown. He was frustratingly handsome, the kind of pretty that only boys could achieve, with unnecessarily long eyelashes and beauty marks. His hair goes in all sorts of directions, each strand somehow meeting perfectly to form the most endearing row of spikes you’ve ever seen. He pushes you aside with his wrist, as if touching you with his entire hand would infect him.

His explosions were just as bright as his mind, the thought pops up when he nearly casts an explosion straight into your face. It crackles on his fingertips, illuminating an orange glow against the curves of your face. It blends almost perfectly into the apples of your cheeks and beneath your irises. He curses himself for thinking about you in so much detail, but how could he not?

“Ahh, ‘get your filthy paws off me!’” You tack on a nasally voice, obviously over exaggerated to make the boy uncomfortable. It works, seeing as he grunts and tears his gaze away. You can smell something burning, the dense scent of charcoal filling the air. “Stop projecting, and pull up your pants. You look fuckin’ stupid.” The insult comes out with a bit more venom than intended, and it clearly gets under his skin. The comment festers, aggressively at that.

“Keep mentioning being stupid and I’ll beat you till you are!” His pupils dilate, just underneath the light shining through his eyelashes. His tongue, as pink as his lips, swipes under his teeth. It feels like he’s the only other person in the room, a dark vignette blocking you from the rest of your class. Just you and Katsuki. Just you, Katsuki, and the God awful smell of whatever was burning.

“Fuck!” Bakugou yells, patting down his lap. You have to shift to see over his desk, but there’s a burning hole through his baggy pants. The mossy green lacks any sort of smooth transition into charred black. It’s not exactly small, but you wouldn’t say it’s that noticeable either. Around half the size of Katsuki’s calloused palm. He’s usually careful, he never needs to look out for these things because he has one hundred percent perfect control over his quirk. Then there’s you, pushing him off his balance beam for the first time in forever. His feet had already grown unsteady to begin with, but something about your unreasonably handsome face made him stumble.

“Do you have All Might boxers? That’s…kinda cute.” The hole is nowhere near the top end of his thigh, but you like to tease him anyway. There’s heat dwindling on his cheeks, more so than his palm. He doesn’t blush though, instead stomps his heavy foot on yours in retaliation. It could be to distract you from whatever he’s feeling rise to his throat. It definitely distracts you from what you feel in yours.

You’re always the first to check him, pull him back in from his fits of- well, passion. To others, he seemed aggressive and angry, but really, he was just passionate about what he enjoyed. Beating others. His fire was always ignited, the flame sparking the second he developed his quirk, and it only ever grew brighter. You wanted to be his candle, to be able to melt under his flame and bounce back when his wick had burned itself through and through.

“It’s too early for your shit.” Bakugou’s cheek rests against his knuckles, his elbow digging into the edge of his desk. He stares straight ahead, afraid the air would be snatched from his lungs if he makes eye contact with you for any second longer. His cheek, though squished between his hand and excess baby fat, looks incredibly kissable. When he’s not straining his face he appears much more youthful. Of course he was only a teen, the both of you were, but the facial expressions he made reminded you of an old man. The thought of Katsuki hunched over with grey hair, yelling at children brings a smile to your face. He already went to bed early, had a tight ironed schedule and woke up early. Honestly, he was already on his way.

He makes no effort to fully turn his body, let alone actually look at you. Instead, Katsuki tilts his head to the side and stares at you through his peripherals. He hadn’t thought about it till now, but the flirting was actually kind of flattering. Hearing you go on with your day without saying something Denki would fist bump you for left him feeling unsettled, like there was a tsunami in his stomach. He actually kind of liked blowing up your face after you flirt with him.

“I can feel those Granny Smith’s staring straight into my soul,” He ignores the obscure comparison of his eyes to apples, but he’d definitely think about it later. Your backhanded compliments have him tapping his foot against the floor in irritation. The rhythm is somewhat memorising, Katsuki makes a mental note to try it out on his drums in his free time. Not that he’d ever say it was inspired by you. Not in a million years. “Really lets me know where home is, thanks ‘Suki.”

“Don’t call me that, prick!” There are fireworks exploding in his stomach. The fizzle out into sparklers, zapping against his insides and bringing overwhelming thoughts straight to his head. It was an unusual feeling, trapped inside his body and only expelling through bouncing legs. At first, the flirting made him want to punch you in your prince-charming esque face, but hearing the nickname made him feel something else. Warm and floaty inside. With fifty percent humor intended, you reach over the safety of your desk to grasp his hand. In the millisecond you get to hold it, you note it’s faint dampness. A drawback of his quirk, something you’d be sure to tease him about another time. He swats your hand with a loud ‘smack!’ that bounces off the walls of the room. He doesn’t pull away completely, instead brushing his knuckles against your own. His signature nose wrinkle returns, manufactured from the exact opposite of disgust. He hates the way his heart quickens, the way he feels challenged when you speak to him, the way he craves the feeling of your hand on his for just a second longer.

But oddly enough, he loved- no, liked? He wasn’t ready for love yet.- you with every fiber of his being. His knuckles brushing against yours felt like more fiction than it actually was, his heart did somersaults against his ribs when he saw you. Hearing you insult him had always taken him aback, it made a mischievous glint in his eye return just as quick as it vanished. Then you’d laugh, a divine chime that he couldn’t quite describe with words, and say something that stopped the blood flow in his body. You truly were something else, a supernova that only vermillion eyes could see. He was thankful for that. The two of you are rather young, with questioning, impressionable minds that’ll cling to each other for support. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

taglist: @lustclubs @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @kissesdenji @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @princejasno @mel-bigia04 @mhasimp666 @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shootingstars-and-burningsuns @sleepyslvt @rintarosaku

438 notes · View notes

bitea-sweetea-roseytocin · 3 years

Note

Ooo hi I saw you take requests? I have a writing request if you want to :))

So here is my idea:

Remus has a notebook given to him by the other sides to write his thoughts down in. See, Remus has clear impulse control problems so this notebook of for him to write his thoughts down instead of just doing and saying whatever comes to mind. It gives him a chance to think about it. Sometimes, maybe like once a week give or take a few days one of the other sides will sit down with him and read his thoughts with him just to make him feel validated and heard. Well this particular time one of the sides (of your choice) sat down with the notebook and found some rather interesting things.

Now, you can take this one of two ways (it’s really all up to you!)- You can make this something angsty (hurt comfort), or you can make it something shippy! It can be any Remus ship you want but I personally am more partial to intrulogical hehe 💙💚

Take your time and have fun with it!! Have a good day :)

Ah! Ty for the request! I started writing it on the day you submitted it, but Tumblr deleted it after a while of not saving :') so now my motivation to do this is deterred

Anyway, this'll be my first time not writing something Roman centric =w=""

Remus held the book in his hands. He remembered the day Roman gave it to him, when he risked traveling into the dark scape because he knew his brother needed this. Because he did, too.

An outlet.

A place for his monstrosities to be, other than inside his head, allowed to torture him to their best abilities. The illusions his mind creates are no longer just in his eyes. It's no longer insanity- it's creativity. The journal isn't the first one. But he and Roman make sure to keep eachother stocked up; they get filled rather quickly. The Imagination holds an entire library dedicated to their filled journals from over the years.

The journals have also become sort of diaries to them. So, imagine what were to happen if one of them got lost? The possibility of their secrets being seen by unbidden eyes.

Remus burst into Roman's room, "Ro!"

Roman jumped from his spot at his desk, "Jeez- ! What is it?"

Oddly, for Remus, he seemed almost anxious, "Have you seen my latest journal?"

Ah, that explains it. Roman understands the severity of losing something that holds your private thoughts. He stood up from his desk chair, turning to face Remus better, "No, I haven't. Is it missing?"

Remus nodded, unable to speak through the panic coursing through his veins, the hormone mixing with the feeling of the plasma we call blood rushing through veins and arteries, rest in his heart, which is thumping with vigor, the- Remus shook himself. The imagery coming on its own with nothing to do with it, "Thoughts, thoughts thoughts, thoughts, blood, where? Everywhere? It is me, I am thoughts and blood and gore and death and slime, and..."

Roman pulled his brother in, the physical touch of his second half grounding him, finally balanced out with his brother there to help him.

"Breathe, Ree...I get it...I'll help you look for it, okay? Do you have any spare journals?"

Remus shook his head. He had just started this one, he was too busy brainstorming on the pages to remember to restock.

"Okay, do you have the focus to conjur any, right now?"

Remus shook his head again. No no, of course not! He's too focused on the one that's missing!

"Alright, that's okay, Ree. I get it. Here, use this for now," As Roman spoke, he pressed a plain black book in the unstable man's hands, "Get some thoughts out on that, then we can start looking, okay?"

Instead of answering, he made the rest of the way into the prince's room and started letting the thoughts out.

"Feel better?"

Remus let out a breath and nodded, "A lot, thanks. Can we go look, now?"

"Of course, let's go."

It took hours. The sun was gone in Thomas' living room and they were still tearing the place apart, searching absolutely everywhere. Remus was tempted to just dismantle the mind palace and look through the stuff that gets left behind. The fear was boiling in his gut in the ocean of acid.

"What if we don't find it? My blood, sweat, and tears went into that book! Pieces of my heart are in there, I can't lose it, what if someone else finds it and reads it?"

Roman shuddered, because he didn't believe that Remus was being metaphorical, "I understand the severity of the situation, Ree. We should go look in the Lightside, now..."

Remus shrugged as much as his slumped posture will allow, "Sure..."

"We'll find it, Ree..."

"That's not what I'm worried about. If I lose it? Fine, I have others, I can start a new one. I'm scared of someone else finding it and reading it... there's things in there I don't want others seeing..."

"I get it, you know I do. We'll get it back before anyone else can even know it exists, alright?"

Remus just shrugged off his comforting hand, "Stupid prince, always making promises you don't even know if you can keep. Don't do that to yourself and don't do it to me. I'm not stupid enough to fall for that shit."

Roman recoiled, almost physically, "Sometime, people just need reassurance."

"And then, when you're wrong? I know you don't like breaking promises, Princey."

"...Then hopefully we'll figure it out."

"You're such a fucking optimist, it's gross."

Roman rolled his eyes, "I'm helping you look, be nice, you doofus."

"Oh wow, "doofus", I'm so offended," Remus said without much effort.

Roman ignored him.

"It's not HERE!" Remus screamed, a pot crashing through the wall.

Roman manged to muffle the noise and quickly put it back together, "We will, this was only the first room in the Lightside. You need to calm down."

"I can't! What if someone else already found it and read it? What if they hate me? What if they never wanna talk to me again because nothing in there makes sense, what-"

Roman caught his hands, "Woah! Woah...Remus, when did you start caring so much about what the others think of you?"

"I don't!"

"But...-"

"I don't care about what Logan and the other think of me."

"Of what...Logan and the...? Remus...is this about Logan?"

Remus hesitated just long enough.

"Oh great Aphrodite, it is..."

"Aphro-? NO! No, I don't!"

"Remus, is there something about Logan on that book?"

Remus said fuck it in his mind and sighed, "Yes... I...some fantasies...that he might not approve of..."

"Oh, Remus..."

"What if he finds out, and he...? He just doesn't...?"

Roman hit his brother on the head, "This is why you're a doofus. It doesn't matter if he finds it, you have nothing to worry about."

Remus rolled his eyes. Literally. He rolled them like dice and Roman had to look away, but got the message.

"How would you know?"

It was Roman's turn to roll his eyes (PROPERLY).

"I'm leaving you to figure that out. But, I do."

"Sure. Whatever. Asshole."

Roman moved on to look in the next room.

A flash of green leaped onto him and he was tumbling over, the item in his hands flying out.

"Remus!"

The man scrambled over and snatched the book up, "Did you read it?"

"I- no, Remus what is it?"

"It's mine. Roman, I found it!"

Roman? Since when do those two talk? But, as Remus said, Roman walked in.

"Oh, thank Hades."

"Logan had it."

Roman sucked in a breath, "Did he read it?"

Remus shook his head, relief is a weird expression on the man's face.

Logan wouldn't mind seeing it more.

"What is this about?"

Roman took the liberty of answering, "The book is Remus' and it's private. Reading it would be invasive."

"Oh, my apologies, then. But, I had just picked it up, it was left over from Remus' running through the room and into the Imagination, along with some other debris I cleaned up."

"It's alright, nerd."

Logan's gaze lingered on Remus a bit, before he bid his farewells, reminded Roman of some work he needs to do by Friday, then left.

"Y'know," Roman said as they turned to walk back, "You could tell him how you feel."

Remus scoffed, "I'm not self destructive, like you, RoRo."

Ignoring Remus' jabs is difficult for the prince, nevertheless, "And do, pray tell, how it's self destructive?"

"Because he'll say no and that will hurt. I don't like when things actually hurt. I'm not risking him hating me even more."

"Woah, woah, he doesn't hate you."

"Doesn't he? I'm chaotic, irrational, vile, ik everything he fights to keep under control."

Roman digested this and thought hard on how best to explain this, "But that's exactly why you two are perfect for each other. You help him let loose when he's being a stick in the mud and he helps you keep in control of yourself and stay organized.

"You're delusional. He doesn't like me, he can't Ro. It goes against our very beings! Go ahead and fool yourself, but you can't do that to me. That's just cruel." Remus disappeared and Roman sighed as he tried to brush off his brother's words.

As the embodiment of romance, he thinks he'd know when a couple will work out or not. How will he convince his brother and Logan of that? He supposes he can't blame them for that, who would listen to the love advice of someone who loves someone that loves someone else? Kinda hypocritical.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Remus! Would calm down? Just listen to me!"

"No! You're a liar and I hate you! Do you want me to get hurt? You're an asshole you good for nothing prince!" He screamed. Why won't his brother let this go? Doesn't he see that everyone is better this way?

"Fine! You're right! Is that what you want to hear? Call me an asshole, call me stupid, call me evil or whatever! But I'm not wrong! Why don't you believe me? Ha! Why am I trying to reason with the self proclaimed unreasonable?"

Remus looked down from his perch on the guillotine, "Wait, RoRo-!" But he was gone.

"Fuck."

He rushed out, hoping to Loki that he didn't do too much damage.

"Roman!"

But he found who he wants looking for.

"Why are you screaming in the middle of the common room?" Came that cool and sexy voice.

"Looking for my brother, duh."

"Funny, I just spoke to him."

"Where'd he go?"

"Not sure, but he told me to stop being a robotic fake and confess to you."

"He- ? ROMAN!" Remus summoned a hammer and maybe there's a new hole in the wall.

"He was right, surprisingly."

Remus was not expecting that, "Come again?"

"I have noticed, over the course of our interactions, that I have developed feelings that I didn't recognized until Roman brought them to my attention. Remus...I have romantic feelings for you."

And it was the last casual and calculated confession Remus ever heard. He imagined something with ropes. But it was the best thing he ever heard. He didn't expect to be crying.

"Remus?"

"I like you, too..."

Logan brightened and stood up, his heart beating unnaturally, yet pleasently, as he moved closer, "Then... perhaps we...?"

But before he could finish, Remus pulled him in and there was no need for words.

Part 2 with what happened with Roman afterwards?

Ty so much for the request and I apologies for the long wait.

@fireflyjunkie

76 notes · View notes

chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

young dumb thrills

Day 26, Post #2 by @accio-broom

Title: young dumb thrills Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Gryffindor pals Prompt: Studying together Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Ron likes to swear, a lot. Also, the lads enjoy not speaking very nicely about the women in their year.

“Merlin, this potions essay is a pile of wank. I'm so fucking bored.”

Seamus snaps his book shut, his Irish lilt filling the dorm room and disturbing the peace. Until the rude intrusion, Ron had been attempting to write a Transfiguration essay on the benefits of Non-verbal spells, although he was struggling without Hermione’s usual help.

Four heads, belonging to the various bodies strewn around the place, lift from their books and parchment. The sixth-year Gryffindors throw frowns and obscenities at their friend.

“Well, it was your idea for us to do something together,” Dean comments, letting his head loll to the side to rest on his arms, his eyes closing.

“Yeah, but when I suggested it, I had a night of debauchery and booze on my mind. Not being shut up here on a Friday night.”

Ron laughs and abandons his parchment on the bedroom floor. He rolls off his tummy then wriggles into a sitting position, his back flush against his trunk. It allows him a better view of his dorm mates.

Seamus is sat up in his bed, resting against the headboard, his now shut Potions book by his feet. Dean sits in one of the window seats whilst Neville is perched next to his bedside table, crooning at his Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Harry is in one of the cosy armchairs next to the fire, switching his obsessive gaze between the Marauder’s Map and the Half-Blood Prince’s Potions book.

“Debauchery?” Ron scoffs. “What kind of stuff did you think we’d be getting up to stuck in Gryffindor tower? You tried sneaking in the Firewhisky, but you were thick enough to let Filch catch you. McGonagall has got us on lockdown because of you, and we can’t even sneak out the window for a fly ‘cos it’s pissing down outside.”

Frowning, Seamus retorts, “At least I tried. Anyways, you and Potter don’t seem to have any difficulties getting yourselves into trouble, despite the rules and detentions and any other fucking thing the staff throw at you.”

Harry, who has been a silent observer up until now, finally pipes up, “You know, I’d gladly trade places with you, Seamus, if it means getting a quiet year without Voldemort trying to kill me.”

The other four boys shudder at Harry’s use of You-Know-Who’s real name. Once he has recovered, Seamus waves a dismissive hand before flopping down onto his stomach.

“Yeah, yeah. We all know that Voldie prefers to wait until the end of the year before trying to kill you. You could at least enjoy yourself up until then.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “How did it come to this, lads? We're all virile, good looking fellas. Well, apart from Nev. Yet, here we are on a Friday night, with only each other for company.”

“Oi!” Neville frowns, swivelling to face his friends with his hands on his hips. “At least I managed to get a date for the Yule Ball. Dean didn’t go with anyone.”

“Yeah, but I have a girlfriend now.”

Dean’s cheeks darken as Ron’s eyes narrow. The redhead’s stomach churns. Sure, he’s adjusted to catching Dean snogging his sister in the common room now, but it doesn’t mean he enjoys it. He knows the type of stuff Dean gets up to, the sort of things he says behind closed doors. He’d rather Ginny didn’t get involved with a guy like Dean, but Ron knows it’s out of his control.

“Out of all of us,” Dean continues, “It’s only Weasley and me who have birds.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ron joins in, mostly to distract himself from his overprotective urges. Ginny is more than capable of looking after herself, and she’s told him enough fucking times, too. “And I could be downstairs with Lav right now, but you were so adamant that we were going to have a good night. Anyway, you can take the piss out of Neville all you want, but I bet you haven’t even snogged a girl, Seamus.”

The Irish Gryffindor’s eyes brighten with glee. “Yeah, I have. Your girl.”

Ron isn’t surprised at the emptiness he feels at the jibe. His feelings for Lavender fizzled out ages ago, and he’s been trying to finish things for weeks. The only problem is he can’t seem to say or do the right thing to scare her away. He should probably come out and say it, try this honesty thing Hermione is always harping about, but Ron likes his balls attached to his body. Plus, it’s kind of nice having a girlfriend and feeling like someone wants him.

Still, he has to keep up appearances. He reaches behind his trunk and fishes out one of his trainers from under his bed before hurling it at Seamus. The guy moves fast, rolling to the side to avoid being hit in the head as he bursts out laughing.

“And a good kisser she is too,” he adds.

“Who do you reckon is the best snogger out of the whole of Gryffindor?” Dean muses.

Ron mutters, “Aren’t you still dating my sister, Dean?”

He knows his anger is irrational, Dean has done nothing wrong, but the images of the guy snogging Ginny then moving on to the next girl to compare them fills his brain, making him feel sick.

Seamus interrupts, still laughing. “For the guys? Then it’s me for sure. But I don’t know who’s the best out of the girls. I’ve snogged quite a lot of them. Some of them are amazing, and others are shit.”

“Fuck off have you,” Dean laughs too. “You’ve snogged Lavender, and that’s it.”

“Nah, I’m being honest with you. Weasley turned me down. It’s only her and Granger I haven’t snogged, truth be told.”

Ron sits bolt upright, all his fury at Dean forgotten as his heart pounds an irregular beat against his ribcage. However, he tries to arrange his face into a calm look. A few times, his secret crush on Hermione has almost been exposed, mostly via mutterings in his sleep. But so far, he’s managed to keep a firm lid on it, or so he believes.

“I don’t think Hermione has snogged anyone,” says Neville.

Dean shakes his head. “I’d put five knuts on her having snogged someone. She went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, after all.”

“Doesn’t mean she kissed him.” Seamus shrugs.

Harry pipes up again. “She did.” He blushes as all eyes settle on him. “Only a small one, though.”

The rest of the room erupts in fits of laughter, but Ron can’t hear it over the roar of his heart in his ears. He digs his fingernails into his leg, ignoring the flare of pain as they break the skin. So, Harry knows that Hermione snogged Vicky, too? How many people did Hermione tell? How the fuck could his best friend keep something like this from him? Why hasn’t anybody told him?

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron can see that Harry is staring at him, but he refuses to meet the git’s gaze. His blood boils around his veins.

“She must be a good kisser then if she managed to keep Krum interested. Not exactly a looker, is she?” says Seamus, in between giggles.

Ron whips his head around to glare at Harry. Despite instigating this latest uproar, the specky git does nothing to stick up for their best friend. Their dorm mates are tearing apart Hermione’s honour right now, but Harry already has his nose buried back in that fucking map, tracing Draco’s path through the school. Harry is bloody obsessed with the Slytherin prick. He probably fucking fancies him.

“You can barely even see she has boobs when she’s in her jumper,” Dean agrees.

“Yeah, and don’t get me started on her hair.”

Neville frowns. “Now, come on, guys. I think you’re being a bit mean. Hermione’s alright.”

“Oohhh, she’s alright, is she?” Seamus rounds on Neville now.

Dean joins in, wiping his eyes. “Aww, that’s nice. At least someone likes her.”

No longer in control of his reactions, Ron jumps to his feet, trembling hands clenched at his sides.

“Enough!” he roars, loud enough so that everyone has their attention pinned on him. “Leave her alone! What the fuck has she ever done to you?” He gestures around the dormitory, daring any of them to speak up. “Don’t get her involved in your bullshit talk.”

“Oh, so it’s alright for us to discuss snogging your girlfriend, but not Hermione Granger?” Seamus slides off his bed, squaring up to Ron. “You need to work out where your loyalties lie. If Lavender found out, she wouldn’t be pleased.”

Ron eyes his friend, trying to determine if he should punch him. After a moment’s deliberation, he decides it’s not worth it. Ron is a prefect and is supposed to be setting a good example. Plus, there’d probably be a fight, and he isn’t sure he has the energy for that tonight. Seamus has a good right hook, after all.

“Fuck off.” Ron pushes past Seamus and strides towards the door, yanking it open. He leaves the dormitory without looking back, pulling the door closed behind him so hard, he’s sure everyone in Hogsmeade can hear the resounding thunk. The dormitory bursts into another round of hysterical laughter, fuelling Ron’s rage.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he reaches the common room with a loud huff, only to meet a startled Hermione at the foot of the staircase. Ron’s face floods with heat as she eyes him up and down, a disparaging look on her face.

“Ron, wh—”

He doesn’t give her the chance to finish her question.

“Leave me alone.”

Stomping towards the portrait hole, Ron barks at the Fat Lady to open without saying please, before heading out. He picks a random direction, then walks.

Fuck the lot of them.

Fuck his friends for being dicks about Hermione and girls in general. No wonder Harry wanted to keep out of it all. And fuck that specky git for not jumping to Hermione’s defence. Fuck Hermione for choosing now to break her months of silence, only to piss him off even more. But most of all, fuck his fucking feelings for making him react so defensively about the fucking witch in the first place.

He’s never going to live this down, for fuck’s sake.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #submission #tw: swearing #tw: misogyny

64 notes · View notes

embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 20

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors A/N: Some ppl asked for a playlist... so ofc I made one!

Series Playlist or Chap 20 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 20: Little Lion Man

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

When Regulus was younger, his aunt Andromeda and Sirius were obsessed with Muggle stories. Andromeda would send them loads of books every month to the local Muggle post office to prevent their parents from confiscating them. He remembers the ten minute walks there and back, Sirius holding his hand tight, even stopping to buy ice cream during the warmer seasons. They would greet the delivery men and women, picking up a heavy stack of wrapped books before waddling out, each boy mirroring a large grin.

Every night at twilight, when their parents were asleep, Sirius would crawl into his bed and read to Regulus in a hushed voice. He would read a different story every night, lulling him to sleep. Sirius spent hours gushing about the fantastical tales Muggles wrote; how magical and mystical their minds were despite not having an ounce of magical blood. From Superman to Batman, the Joker to Daleks, Prince Caspian to King Miraz; Regulus quickly learned that they all had one common theme: the good guys and the bad guys.

Regulus often spent his time grappling with the notion; what made someone good? Because the definition changes depending on the person.

Were the good guys good because they were selfless — passionate? Those deemed good never let themselves be seen as selfish. The heroes would sacrifice themselves for the greater good, even going as far as giving up their loved ones. Or maybe it was because they went against the odds. But villains did that too.

So he re-worded the question; what made someone bad? Was it their selfishness or greed? Was it putting themselves above others? Did they know they were on the wrong side of history? Make a mistake, once, twice — but surely, that didn’t make someone bad. Did it?

If virtue is understood by both sides, then the bad guys would immediately cross that line time and time again. They lacked wisdom and truthfulness, filled with too much pride and vanity.

But now as he began to grow up far too quickly for a fourteen-year-old boy, he realized that there was more to people than just being good or evil, a saviour or tormentor, light versus darkness.

The definition of good and bad depended on who told the story and Regulus didn’t know who controlled his; him or his parents. The line was so blurred that he couldn’t objectively make the decision himself anymore. Was he more bad than good?

Laughter — rich and inviting beckoned throughout the library, snapping him out of his thoughts again; but it did nothing but chip away at his heart. Regulus got up, shoving his books and parchment into his bag, making sure to hide his face before they saw him. Today, the Marauders had come earlier than expected and he was caught off guard. He’d been doing everything to avoid them out of pure shame.

Before he went to turn, he eyed Sirius from the shadows. He smiled, carefree and happy, clinging onto Pettigrew, ruffling his hair like he once did to him.

What made them so special, so loved and cherished by Sirius? How were they able to make him laugh so effortlessly, able to brighten his day with a mere glance? What made them more of a family than he ever was to him?

But he knew, it was their family’s values and it had been taunting him every waking moment.

It’s not like he didn’t want to escape that night, but he wasn’t Sirius. He was never as bright or strong or as good as him. Sirius was bold and courageous and certainly had more bravery than he would ever have. Regulus was far too weak, a puppet for his parents to control. Sirius was everything Regulus was too afraid to be — a reminder of what he could have turned into.

Besides, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that his parents would have killed Kreacher had he left. And this way with Sirius gone, it left Regulus to be the sole heir. Sirius was free, not being hunted down by his parents now that he bore the title. That was his gift to him, freeing Sirius of all the responsibilities, pain and grief. He owed him that much. Besides, Regulus had already mourned the childhood he never had; that made everything easier.

The day Sirius left was the day before they were set to leave for Hogwarts again and the impact of his absence was massive. He no longer heard the thumping of loud Muggle music nor the clanking of piano keys or doors slamming shut. There wasn’t any screaming aside from his parents shrieking at him for taking his father's wand. The stairs creaked; he could even hear Kreacher padding his way to his room.

It was eerily quiet and lifeless in that damned house, and he was only gone for a day.

Regulus hadn’t been taking it well. Nearly every night, his face was pressed into a pillow muffling his sobs. Sirius had kept his promise, he hadn’t talked to him since.

If only he had a scarlet tie…

Ha! He could laugh; he’d been trying to get his attention in little ways. He’d even gone as far as growing out his hair to match his — coping by writing letters every night with words he wished he could’ve said before storing them in a box under his bed. Forever unsent. Hell, Regulus was a coward, every bit as pathetic as Sirius deemed.

Ever the winter break, his parents were relentless, dumping everything that was meant for Sirius onto him. Letters were sent daily; there were talks about an arranged marriage, lumps of money now being transferred under his name, getting the dark mark… and he was being watched. Every interaction he had, his parents always knew. Especially with Muggleborns; he had to limit his interactions with them to almost nothing, or it wouldn’t end well for either.

His mind reeled back to that night, where his parents and extended family toyed with that blonde Muggle, leaving her half-dead on the dining table, the image branded in his head. It made him sick just thinking about it, he never knew what happened to her, he was too busy trying to muffle out her screams.

Regulus had been questioning everything he was taught. Sirius’ words echoed in his head; was he willing to kill Muggleborns solely because of their blood status? He's a believer in old values and traditions: yes, blood should be kept pure, but to kill Muggles… that was completely different. He’d seen how his dearly beloved aunt was burned off the tapestry, threatened and almost killed for marrying a Muggleborn — a Muggleborn who he’s met and liked and respected. His family tortured them for the sake of it and more. That wasn’t the move of someone good, those were the actions of someone evil; filled with greed, spite and selfishness. But how was he going to stop a whole bloodline from their mania?

Some may call it obedience, the way he’s listened to his parents all these years blindly, but to him, it’s respect. But did he believe that? Did they deserve to be respected? He was miserable and this wasn’t a healthy way to show filial piety.

What did he believe in?

Perhaps there wasn’t such a thing, good or evil, maybe there was only power.

Regulus was lost and confused and most of all, lonely. He remembered Sirius promised him once, before the day he was set to leave for Hogwarts for the first time, that he would never be alone. What a funny thing, promises.

Tears were forming fast and if he didn’t leave then, they would fall any second now. He needed to get out of the library.

Regulus asked himself again; what made someone good or bad — or rather, was he good or bad? He’s veering towards bad.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

After catching word from Mary that Remus’ birthday was approaching, Y/N had been knitting him a sweater in her spare time (or trying to). It was sweet, simple and showed that she’d put effort into it, especially since he taught her. Although, the sweater was lopsided and she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of a certain stitch or how to close sections. Perhaps she should use magic.

Her fingers fiddled with the needle, looping the yarn over the other side. Without looking up, she made a sharp turn into the library before crashing into a hunched-over figure; sniffling and a complete mess.

An apology dangled from her lips before recognizing the figure as Regulus. It had been two months since she’d last seen him and in short, he looked like shit. His skin was grey and lost all sense of a youthful dewy glow. If Sirius had dark eye circles or Remus looked tired, Regulus beat them by miles.

Y/N stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do before gently patting his shoulder. “Regulus?” She asked softly, nothing more than a whisper.

There was a flash of pure terror as he looked up, his eyes nervous as his head spun around to look around the place like he always did. He looked mad, almost unhinged as his hands gently pushed her away, signalling for her to leave. “I — I can’t be seen around you.”

“Can’t? What are you going on abo —” She cut herself off, ignoring the matter entirely. He clearly wasn’t in the right mindset.

His voice was strained, quiet as he kept on murmuring, he almost sounded angry. “You can’t — we’ll both get in trouble. Y/N, go — please… ”

At this, Y/N felt her skin rise in small goosebumps. She looked back to the library, just making out her friend’s figures before looking down at Regulus again. She wasn’t going to leave him like this: crying and delusional.

She took a deep inhale before bending down, picking up her needles and yarn off the ground and slipped them into her bag. She placed a cautious arm around Regulus to keep him upright. “Come with me.” But Regulus wouldn’t budge, not until she flicked down her hood, obscuring her face.

She led him up to the astronomy tower, walking and twisting around before setting him down on a nearby bench, making sure to lock any entrances. They sat in silence, aside from Regulus attempting to regulate his breathing. The cold whipping wind tossed his hair and sank into her bones. With a few charms, they were both warm again, but still able to breathe in the crisp air.

He remained quiet. Y/N didn’t push. Instead, she began babbling softly about random things to distract him. When she heard a sharp exhale of air, mimicking a half-hearted chuckle was when she knew he had calmed down.

“Thank you,” he muttered. It’s quiet, barely above a whisper. Regulus’ cheeks were pink, colour finally returning to him from either embarrassment or the cold.

“Any time,” she smiled warmly. Her hand reaches into her bag, fishing out the snacks that were meant for the study group: blackberries that were for Remus, a muffin for Marlene, were now shared between them. She tried to encourage him to eat, to regain any sort of energy.

He listened without complaint, a tense yet thankful air engulfed them. It was only until he finished the food, about an hour gone by, was when he spoke again. “Why are you being so nice to me.” It’s not even a question, just an odd accusation.

She thinks for a while, searching for the best answer. “I wished someone was there for me when I was going through a hard time.”

“But you don’t know me.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Well, let’s get to know each other then. I’ll tell you something about myself and then you can go?”

Regulus looked up at her with a calculated expression, cautious and looked uncomfortable but he nodded.

“Let’s start simple. I have an owl named Celeste.”

He gulped, looking back to the entrance. His answer came delayed, strained and she wondered if she had pushed him too far. “I play the violin.”

Y/N smiled largely. “The violin is beautiful! Hmm… I can’t ride a broomstick to save my life, unlike you.”

At this, he smiles — a real genuine smile that causes his eyes to crinkle and sparkle. “Really?” His eyes burned with curiosity before he looked down, “I can’t swim.”

“Swim?” She repeats, chuckling to herself, “Who doesn’t know how to swim?”

“You’re making me feel grand. Terribly uncalled for.”

Her eyes rolled, “You should learn. It can save your life one day. Who wants to drown?”

“Maybe I’ll ask McGonagall — I heard for tougher punishments she’ll throw you into the black lake.”

“You’re the perfect candidate then.”

After a while, way past curfew, Regulus seemed cheerier; his tear-stained cheeks now replaced with a smile and relaxation. That day, Y/N unaware, was a day Regulus would never forget.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

March 8th, 1976

“Sirius, shut up.”

“You’re the one yelling!”

“... Right.”

Excused from their afternoon classes because their Puffskein was about to hatch, the Marauder’s dorm was bustling with panic and bickering. When Y/N partnered with Sirius for their project, she expected fighting (which happened every day) but not for Sirius to be like this. He’d been running around the dorm, grabbing warm towels, bowls of water and taking out his panic on her. He gripped his textbook, flicking through notes to see if they had everything. It was as if he was preparing for the birth of an actual baby.

She silently watched him, her mind thinking about Regulus rather than their project. This was the only time she and Sirius were alone and wondered if she should mention his freakout the other day but stopped — it didn’t take a genius to know they weren’t on friendly terms.

Since that night, she’d seen Regulus almost daily, but only at night before their study group. She would spend an hour or so with him before the Marauder or girls came barraging in; Regulus left before they appeared. The entire situation left her deeply confused, worried and most of all, suspicious.

“We need Kettleburn —”

Annoyance began nipping at her. “Calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm down!”

Sirius paced, both firing snide jabs. Too preoccupied in his panicked state, he didn’t hear the quiet cracking of the white shell, forming the shape of a lightning bolt before cascading over.

“Um, Black?”

“Let’s not start. How are you so —”

“Get your ass over here now!”

Sirius pressed his lips together immediately and rushed over, both huddled side by side near the roaring fireplace. The shell twitched, cracking more and they both gasped in amazement. The process was faster than either expected as they saw the small tuft of cream fur peek out along with a pair of black eyes. Its long pink tongue slipped out, already looking for its first meal. Y/N scrambled to grab a nearby dish of dried spiders to feed it while Sirius cradled it in his hand. His smile was wide, buzzing with excitement as he observed it. His hands gently glided over the soft fur as it emitted a low humming sound.

A deep chuckle erupts from Sirius and she could feel the vibrations from how close they were. His laugh, which once made her cringe, now made her skin feel fuzzy and heart flutter. But, it wasn’t like that, she thinks. Of course not! She still wants to jinx him, maybe even throw him into the fireplace. Yes, that’s it.

She snaps out of her violent thoughts when she finds Sirius already looking at her, a pretty flush to his skin as he observes her softly. Her brows crinkled; instead of a frown or on the cusp on an insult, he smiles.

“Do you want to hold it?” Y/N nods eagerly. Sirius shifts his body, placing the Puffskein in the palms of her hands. It’s incredibly soft, adorable and when it leans into her, falling asleep, she swore she fell in love.

“What do you want to name it?” She mumbled, afraid that if she were any louder it might wake it up. Sirius takes a long time to ponder and Y/N braces herself for an insult, already thinking of a plethora of her own.

“It looks like porridge… Oatmeal!”

“Are you serious?”

“I’d be worried if I wasn’t.”

Y/N tries to suppress her smile but fails. The Puffskein did look like a grain of oatmeal. Plain and simple, she liked it.

“Hello, Oats! You’re so cute — I could just eat you up!”

“Morbid much.”

Hours went by before they ultimately decided to head down to Kettleburn’s office for an examination of Oats’ health. Sirius cradled it in a small blanket, shielding it from the rest of the world. Marlene and Dorcas were standing by the sidelines, joining them as they walked past.

“Yours hatched already? Aw, it looks so cute!” Dorcas squealed. Her hands reached out, giddy as Sirius gently placed it into her arms but not without fretting. Marlene only looked down at her with a soft gaze, her face becoming pink as she wrapped an arm around her.

“Give it a rest. She’s not going to drop it.”

“Now you, McKinnon?! I’m a father now! Our kid deserves the best care! Right, L/N?”

It catches her off guard. Sirius trying to include her in a conversation? That’s a new milestone. “Of course; the proudest parents.”

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

Once done with Kettleburn, Sirius went to bring Oats back to his dorm, parting as Y/N went to find Lily who took her notes for her afternoon classes.

Out in the courtyard, walking around in the snow, both Lily and Snape wandered around before she picked up a snowball, throwing it at him. Snape sent her a deadpanned look as Lily kept hurling snowballs. Most missed him, others hit him before he retaliated and threw some back.

Y/N halted, watching the scene play out and debated whether or not to approach them. But decided to, shouting while striding up to them.

“Petals!”

Lily’s smile grew before her head whipped to her. She stopped her snowball fight, getting up to bounce her way over to her. Snape followed in suit, but as Lily began to babble on and on about what she missed, Snape’s eyes bore into her, vice versa.

“I’ll see you later, Sevy! We need to go,” said Lily, already turning to walk away. Y/N lingered back a pause, just enough to see Snape draw his wand and shoot a spell at her. She had just enough time to block it. Whatever spell it was, it sparkled like a firecracker. If Snape could easily send a hex or jinx her way inboard daylight with Lily just a little ahead, what was he willing to do had they been alone.

His angel persona around her was dropping quickly.

“Whiskers!” Shouted Lily. Her arms raised in question. “Get over here!”

A flurry of thoughts bombarded her before she could process them. She was about to cause a scene, yell and scream until that nasty sneer fell off his face until she felt a tug on her arm. Lily hooked her arm around Y/N, pulling her away. But she still had her wand drawn, ready to block another spell. She tossed one last look at him; he smiled wickedly.

“Are you okay?”

She had enough tip-toeing around Snape. She remained tranquil, gave him the benefit of the doubt and respected their friendship but that was enough.

“No, I’m not actually,” keeping her tone as soft as possible, trying not to sound defensive, “Why do you waste your time around him?”

Lily paused, her eyes going wide. An offended expression crossed her face as she took a moment to digest the remark. “Sev? What are you getting at?” Her tone was guarded which had Y/N debating whether or not to drop the conversation entirely. A fight with Lily was not on her to-do list.

“I just think you should be careful around him.”

“I can look out for myself,” she grumbled, “Severus has been there for me for years. I know how to separate myself from the wrong sorts.”

“I’m only saying this to look out for —”

“I know, but he isn’t like what you’re thinking.” Lily didn’t look mad, just tired as she nodded sharply. Taking a stack of parchment from her bag, Lily handed it to her and walked faster. “You’re around Potter too much. He isn’t like what he says he is.”

Y/N felt annoyance blossom in her chest at the accusation of James but bit her tongue to avoid more conflict. Right now, they trod on dangerous waters.

Neither spoke to each other for the rest of the day.

93 notes · View notes

jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Betrayed- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

♡~🐍~♡

Request: Hi Kody! Can you do a jealous/protectv Draco where you're dating but every boy likes you and thinks you're super pretty and cute even though you're a Slytherin and you're always getting stare from boys especially your childhood best friend Lorenzo who also has a crush on you. He like pulls you aside to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom from Draco one day and touches you and you scream for Draco and that like the sectumsempra scene except as soon as Draco shows up and tries to help you, Enzo crucios you?

Kody: Woke up and chose violence huh?

Year: 7th

House: Slytherin

Possible Triggers/Warnings: cursing, Draco being the badass protective boyfriend he is, attempted sexual assault, wack ass best friends, reader harm.

♡~🐍~♡

saturday mornings were always the best. The weekend was starting and you were ready to just hang out with friends and spend some much loved quality time with Draco, your boyfriend. Yes. You, Y/n L/n were in a very loving relationship with the Slytherin prince himself.

you remembered the day he asked you to be his girlfriend quite clearly. He was so surprised you said yes, saying things along the lines of ��But your so out of my league” or “are you really sure” it took you a total of 15 minutes to convince him that you indeed wanted to be with him.

now half a year later you both were the power couple of the school with people labeling you as the “hottest slytherin girl” which you found quite creepy. Boys always had there eyes on you and it wasn’t always the most pleasant feeling to be watched, unless it was Draco. Then you liked the attention.

Draco especially didn’t like the looks guys gave you, calling them “horny bastards” and other insults. At least you had one normal guy friend (or so you thought). Lorenzo. He was your childhood best friend and couldn’t imagine your life without him.

your boyfriend sure could. Draco knew Lorenzo was just like all the rest of the guys at Hogwarts. A horny bastard. He gave you the weirdest, lustful looks when you weren’t looking, but Draco was. He had tried to tell you about Lorenzo, but you always reassured him that it was just his jealousy getting to him.

Draco would unfortunately be proven right today.

♡~🐍~♡

“Darling, it’s time to get up” Draco slowly shook your unconscious body. You start to stir, until your e/c eyes open up. As soon as you see Draco, you smile “Hi” you whisper in a tired morning voice. He cracks a smile and leans down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips.

you had stayed in Draco’s dorm the night before because well- why not? “Do i have too?” you ask. not wanting to ruin the perfect position you were in at the moment. He lets out a quiet snicker before nodding his head “yes, my love. Now lets get ready. I’m sure you’ve left enough clothes here.”

Draco pulls the black duvet off of his body and gets out of bed. You groan in frustration before getting up yourself. “Stupid mornings” you grumble, your boyfriend laughing at your childish behavior. “I know dear, so sad” he puts on a mock pout as he reaches down to pull his shirt off.

you take a second glance at his toned chest. Hot damn. He raises a brow, a smirk plastered on his face “Eyes up here Y/n or i’ll give you something to look at” his tone was low and demanding. A shiver ran up your spine as you walk over to one of the drawers, face flushed.

you dig out a dark green sweater, a light green plaid tennis skirt and black stockings. You began to put on your clothes and Draco did as well. The whole process only took about ten minutes. Once you slipped the skirt on, you felt a pair of hands grip your waist.

a quick kiss was placed behind your ear “You look stunning. I wish no one else could see you this way” he whispers, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck. You let out a small whine “Can we hurry up and leave, so we can hurry up and get back”

he chuckles deeply and lets go of your waist, only to grip your hand. “I can agree with that” he opens his door and you both head out.

♡~🐍~♡

walking down the hall, you feel Draco’s hand grip yours tighter “Honey, calm down before you break my ring finger” you spoke in a sickenly sweet tone. You tug your hand away and pout. He looks over at you and sighs deeply “I’m sorry, it’s just hard to not kill every male in this school”

what a big baby “I know, but i’m all yours, remember that” you nod once. A smile graces his lips at your words as he looks forward. “Thank you Y/n. Sorry for overreacting again- Y/n?” he spoke, when he had turned to look at you once again. You were gone.

as Draco spoke someone grabbed your arm and had pulled you into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. You squealed loudly and hit whoever had dragged you in here. “Ouch! Y/n what the hell?!” wait- you knew that voice. You look behind yourself and saw Lorenzo.

you let out a small laugh “Enzo! i’m sorry! You scared me. Real funny by the way” you chuckle. “I need to talk to you about something” he speaks seriously, which catches you off guard. “Okay? Sure” you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly.

his eyes wander your body a little to long as he gulps. Strange. “We’ve been friends a long time Y/n” he starts, stepping forward towards you. You nod with a small smile “Of course we have silly” he cracks a smile. “and i know everything about you and vise versa”

another step forward. You back up a bit. “Uh huh?” you say, a little unsure about where this conversation was going. He seemed to be at loss of words for a moment. Before you could say anything else he had pinned you against the bathroom wall.

your eyes widened in shock and you instantly went to push him away “Enzo?! What the fuck!? Get off of me!” you shout, using your hands to shove his chest, but he was way stronger than you. His hand went to your thigh, running it over the stockings “You’re so beautiful Y/n” he whispered into your ear.

a terrible feeling churned in your stomach. You felt sick. Why was he doing this? “Let me go!” you protest, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. His hand gets dangerously close to your- yeah. “Why can’t you love me the way you love-” “DRACO!” you shout, his eyes go wide.

not even a slip second later your Slytherin boyfriend busts through the door. His eyes scan the sight and he looks furious “Get the bloody hell off my girlfriend you sick fuck!” venom laced with each word. While Enzo is distracted you duck under his arm.

Enzo pulls out his wand and points it at Draco “Crucio!” he yells. Draco dodges the spell and rushes over to you “Are you alright?” he asked, grabbing your hand. You nod, which relieves him in some way. “You don’t deserve her! I’ve known her longer!” Enzo shouts Crucio again.

Draco went to reach for his wand, but it’s too late. You drop to the floor, letting out a blood curdling scream. One that makes his heart tug harshly. “Y/n!” he drops to the floor as your body spasmed violently. Enzo dropped his wand and went to walk over to you.

before Enzo could take another step Draco protectively grabs your body and pulls you closer to him by your waist “Stay the fuck away you piece of fucking shit! Never show your face to me or Y/n again i will end you! Remember this, your only alive because your her friend! Now fucking go!”

your friend looked hurt by his words, but Draco was right in every word he said. Enzo collected his wand and left the bathroom. The pain had started to subside, but small whines and whimpers left your mouth, body shivering. He held your held close to his chest.

“Fuck. i’m so sorry darling. I promise the pain will go away just breathe” he tries to give you a reassuring smile, but tears spilled out instead. “Shit” he cursed and scooped your body in his arms. He stands up and makes his way out the bathroom.

♡~🐍~♡

he walked out, gazing at your face. It was tear stained and your eyes were shut tightly. “Malfoy?” his head snapped to the direction of the voice. Great the golden trio. Just peachy. “Piss o..off” he hissed like second nature, but his voice was cracked and hoarse. Harry looked irritated by his choice of words.

“What’s happened to Y/n? Why is she shivering?” Hermione spoke up, pushing past the two Gryffindor boys in front of her. Draco looked away from her and at your face. His brain couldn’t function at the moment, unable to form words. “Draco? What. Happened?”

Hermione spoke in a calm tone. She could clearly tell Draco was distressed, which was the cause of his silence. He sniffles before answering “C..Cruciatus curse. I..i was to slow..” he started to sputter. Hermione nods, smiling lightly “We need to bring her to the hospital wing. Okay?”

Draco looked back and forth between both girls before nodding “O..Okay.” he repeats. Ron and Harry were confused as all hell about what was going on, but followed Hermione as she led Draco to the hospital wing where you could be treated.

♡~🐍~♡

your eyes slowly opened. You saw white all around you. Where the hell were you at right now? As your eyes adjusted, the room started to look familiar. The hospital wing. “Madam pomfrey?” you spoke, expecting her to be near enough to hear. “Love?” that was not a woman's voice.

you turn your head slowly to the left and see a very disheveled Draco Malfoy sitting in a chair next to the bed you were occupying. “A small smile forms on your face “Draco? You look terrible” he laughs quietly, grabbing your hand “I know. It’s been a rough day”

you nod slowly, the memories of the previous events flooding your head like a harsh tidal wave. Enzo. He had betrayed you in the worst way possible. “It has. I’m sorry i worried you so much” a pout replaced your smile. He shakes his head “No, dont say sorry. It’s that bastards fault. He hurt you”

“What happened to Enzo by the way? Is he in trouble?” you asked. Even if he did hurt you, he was still somebody important to you. “Granger ended up reporting him to Dumbledore on her own accord. He was expelled two hours later.” you looked slightly confused.

“Hermione? Since when were you friendly with a Gryffindor” you asked. He rolls his eyes with a small grin “Oh yes. Potter and Weasley as well. I was a bit out of sorts when they found me with you so they guided me here. Helped me” he explained, his eyes averting to your hand in his.

“I’ll have to thank them later then” You say, a crash is heard outside the door “No need!” Hermione yelled through the door. You chuckled as Draco narrowed his eyes “Get away from the door! Come back later!” he shouts. Shuffling was heard and a array of footsteps running away.

“Come back later? Is this friendship i smell?” you say with a smug smile. He rolls his grey eyes as he plants a quick kiss on your lips “Maybe” he spoke, making you smile brightly.

“I heard a maybe!”

“Ron!”

♡~🐍~♡

Kody: Boom done. Had to add a bit of funny hunny at the end. My scoliosis is kicking in so in fear that my spine is going to turn into a wet noodle. Drink some water, eat some food, touch some grass. yeah i see you reading smut. Anyways, peace.

331 notes · View notes

sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years

Text

Fine Line (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: hey. Friends to lovers (the only trope i respect) You’re about to marry someone else, a prince from another village in an attempt to save relations with said village, only kakashi stands in the way of that, and everyone knows.

Also, i know kakashi would never do this in reality, but gosh is it romantic to imagine

Word count: 5400

“Y/N, you really need to sleep,” Kakashi sighed, leaning on his fist which sat on the thin, flimsy armchair beside her bed.

She hadn’t slept properly for weeks now, day after day only falling asleep at random hours of the day, naps in the afternoon and a half hour of shut eye in the early morning. She ate sporadically, and her schedule had admittedly started to interfere with her friend’s. Kakashi found himself in her apartment, awake the majority of the nights trying to calm her down.

But nothing was going to help this situation. Tsunade had decided already, after Y/N had hesistantly agreed. It wasn't as if this marriage was forced, but it certainly wasn’t ideal.

The woman never really imagined herself marrying at all, but if she had, she always dreamed it would be out of love for the other person, someone who would match her perfectly like a puzzle piece, essentially, someone who would complete her.

Instead, she had been hastily shoved into an arranged marriage with a man she and Kakashi guarded on one of their missions. He was the wealthy crown prince in the Land of Frost. He was kind enough, and he respected her wishes when it came to the proposal, giving Y/N a month to decide whether she was ready to be wed to such a man.

He promised her the entire world. Jewels, clothes, children, a palace in which to live the rest of her days, anything she could possibly need he would have servants at her beck and call.

It hadn’t seemed like the worst idea at all, and Y/N shortly considered it. It wasn’t until Tsunade heard about it that things became serious.

The relationship between the two lands was falling apart, and this was a last resort, she had said. It wouldn’t mean she could never see her friends again but meetings would be scarce, and she was positive he wouldn't let her train and go on the occasional, non-dangerous mission. It would be as if she were abandoning her entire life, she realized as the weeks passed after the engagement was set.

And so the letter was sent back to the Land of Frost, and abruptly, Y/N L/N found herself engaged to be married in 3 months time. It seemed surreal, only having 90 days practically, to enjoy her normal life and prepare for an entirely new world. She hadn’t known anything else other than the way of shinobi, nor had she adjusted to other cultures. The Leaf was her home, and the thought of leaving it broke her heart.

For the first time in her life, it seemed she was petrified. Sure, there were times when she felt like everything was set up against her, that the enemy might win, but she hadn’t felt so hopeless and lost either. There always seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Not this time.

“Please, just finish your tea and rest. You’re wasting away,“ he told her again, whispering in a soft tone only the two of them could hear. She was in the medical ward for the night, low blood sugar bringing her in this time. The dangerous combo of not sleeping or eating had set her body into a panic. She was so weak.

As she sipped the tea she sighed, feeling that sting of warmth run down her throat and bring some feeling to her empty, weak stomach. She couldn’t look at the man sitting beside her, it would only bring her pain, she decided. How could she face him? She was leaving him after all this time.

It had been decades since they were apart for longer than the standard mission time. He was always there right alongside her. They grew up on the same street in the same complex. They attended the academy together, fought in the war side by side, travelled the world as jounin just trying to make their way through the twists and turns of village politics. She felt like shit having to leave him behind. It wasn’t like her new husband was going to let her have weekly visits to her old friend, a man who was closer than anyone else she knew. It wasn’t plausible.

Slowly, she had realized that one day would be the last day she could hug Kakashi, that she could look up to him and hear his calm tone telling her it would all be okay, that he would never leave her behind, that he would always be there to protect her as long as she did the same for him. It wasn’t going to be like that anymore, and it often brought tears to her eyes in the late of night in her apartment, tears saturating her pillows and face swelling from the suffocated sobs. One day would be the last time she saw him, and it just hurt so badly. At times she found herself gasping for air, so terrified she couldn't find breath..

So, no, Y/N couldn't bring herself to face Kakashi. Maybe if she distanced herself little by little as the few months went on, it would be easier leaving. Leaving everyone behind. Kakashi, Gai, Kurenai, all the students she had grown to care about over the years. To spend her last days avoiding the people she would miss so dearly seemed like a waste of time and irrational, but it was the only thing that seemed reasonable in her confused mind.

“I can’t,” she replied softly, setting her mug down on the table to the other side of her bed. “How do you expect me to sleep?”

He shook his head in disapproval, his arms crossed over his chest as he leant back in his chair. He replied, “I don’t know. Just close your eyes and it’s bound to happen. You could at least try.” His suggestion was pretty useless, and he knew that. Hell, the amount of times he stayed awake when she begged him to sleep, he should have known he wasn’t going to get anywhere.

“And if I don’t want to?”

He sighed, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, as he muttered, “What is your prince going to say when he sees you with black eye bags and cheeks sunken in?” He felt disgusted, hearing those words leave his mouth. Not only was she to be married to someone she barely knew, but she had to impress him. She had to change herself to fit his narrative of a woman, stereotypically beautiful, effortless yet hard working at the same time. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about that prince, and the ploy Tsunade had put up in the way of arranging them together.

Absolutely sickened.

She peered over at him and frowned. “Between you and me, I don’t give a fuck what that guy thinks,” she whispered, her eyes resting on the doorway to make sure no late night nurses were walking through. “I wish he would take one look at me and break the engagement himself.”

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N.” His eyes now drawn on her, watching as she took another long sip of her tea, which he now suspected was spiked with something Gai had given her on his way out, something to numb the pain she was feeling. It burned her throat so good, and dulled her mind just enough to ease her. The Green Beast understood her desire to help the village, but he also sided with Kakashi in that she could change her mind at any point in time.

Even Gai knew she wasn’t happy, everyone fucking knew.

“Oh, but I do, Kakashi. I don’t really have a choice at this point.”

“You do. Don’t let a spoiled prince take away your happiness,” he argued, his face turned just the slightest shade of red at his frustration. He wanted to wring this prince by the neck for what he had done, for the tough situation Y/N was put in. Either save the relationship between two nations or be selfish and do nothing. “Please, Y/N.”

A part of him liked to believe that his begging was simply to save his friend from a horrible fate, that he was just doing what a normal person would do and defend someone who seemed so helpless, only that wasn’t it. It was never that in the first place. He wouldn’t have been the one to fall apart in Tsunade’s office when she told him that the pair were engaged, screaming profanities at the Hokage who only looked up at him with pity in her eyes. And he certainly wouldn’t have run all the way across the village to her apartment and bang on the door until she opened. He wouldn’t have left her room that night with a tear about to fall from his eye, and vomit coming up in his throat. He wouldn’t have thrown up in the middle of the street that night. Not if he was simply protecting a friend.

He knew that the reason this hurt him so badly is because he loved her. He always knew there was something there, but there was never any reason to act on his feelings. They had all the time in the world it seemed, just the two of them soldiering on in this boring life. Telling her how he felt, how much he wanted her...that wouldn’t have changed a thing between them other than made things just that much more difficult.

Now, Kakashi found himself regretting everything. If only he had said something before, maybe she could have stayed here in the Leaf with him, and all her other friends who had become her family over these decades of struggling together. If only he had stepped up and been brave. He never faltered in the face of fear; why did it have to be the only time he did that screwed him over.

“Kakashi, I can’t go back on the engagement. It would cause us to lose one of our greatest allies,” she told him calmly, but her heart was once again beating too fast for comfort. She found herself falling into that downward spiral of hopelessness once again. She looked over at him with a quiver in her lip and tears bubbling up at her waterline, words softly leaving her mouth, so quiet he almost missed it. “I was fitted for a wedding gown two days ago. I-It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He asked me to pick what flowers I want at the ceremony.”

“Ah, I see.”

“All I wanted to say was wilted fucking roses, thorns and all. Weeds and empty branches.”

“Just run away if you have to, run for long enough that he forgets about you,” Kakashi suggested, a bit of plea in his voice for her to listen to anything, anything that would get her away from that man, this horrible fate. “You don’t need to do this. Tsunade can make it work.”

“Kakashi.” Y/N paused, biting her lip. Her head was beginning to buzz from the tea she was drinking, one in which Gai added more than a bit of sake to numb the pain. Something the nurses at this godforsaken hospital refused to give her. She gazed over at him with a glaze over her eyes, her cheeks draining of any last bit of color she had in them.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to marry him,” she confessed, that much was obvious. “I wish I was marrying you instead.”

“Y/N-”

“I’ve never even looked at someone twice because of you. I’ve only ever wanted you, for fuck’s sake.” she bit out harshly, her voice raising with every word. Her eyes were trailed painfully on his own, glaring fire into him. "All these years, all these long, painful years, it's always been you, Hatake."

Just as he was about to say something in response, she had leaned over and pushed him away from her. He opened his mouth to get out a word, but nothing came out. Her angry shouts filled his ears, and he found himself falling. He stood from his chair and backed away from her bed.

“Just get out, Kakashi. It doesn’t matter how the fuck I feel anymore. I should have never said anything. At this point, I'm just tormenting myself. Just get out,” she hissed. “Get out, get out, get out.” Her shouts were painful to hear, but he understood. He wasn’t angry, unlike the girl with the overwhelming emotions bubbling out from the ears. His heart raced at her words, at the rushing emotions flowing through his veins.

He walked out the door without saying goodbye, just hearing her crying behind him while he pushed open the cracked door. As he shut the door behind him, he noticed a particular pink haired girl standing against the wall. She stared at him in shock, having heard the outbursts from the woman in the room who she was just about to check up on to make sure vitals were okay. She heard the confession, and she heard the subsequent backlash. She heard the parts about Y/N not wanting to marry the prince as well.

It wasn’t exactly well known that she resented the engagement, but it was fairly obvious if you spent enough time with the kunoichi, which Sakura surely did being a medical nin.

“Sensei, are you okay?”

“Yes, Sakura, I’m fine,” he breathed, finding himself at a loss for words and lungs utterly useless.

Sakura grabbed onto his arm, peering up at him with just an ounce of determination in her eyes. “You need to convince Y/N-sensei to break the engagement.”

“I know.”

“Did you talk to Lady Tsunade.”

“She won’t listen to me.”

“Then I’ll try to talk to her too. She's not a cruel woman, but she is set on this engagement. She believes it will unite the two villages for hundreds of years. Y/N is one of our best and brightest after all.” Sakura told the man in the darkness of the hospital halls, her soft voice echoing on white walls. “I know it doesn’t seem like things will work out, and maybe Lady Tsunade won't listen. But you have to convince Y/N to stand up for herself."

He nodded, but it felt hopeless even pretending that things would change.

“You two were meant for each other. You can’t just give up on that now.”

And with that, he left down the hall, waving goodbye to his student. He didn’t know how exactly he was going to do this, work out this mess in his favor, but it was worth a shot trying. If he didn’t, it would mean losing the love of his life. He couldn’t lose anyone else, not this time.

Please, just not this time.

________________________

Despite being dressed in all white, Y/N felt anything but pure. She had been dolled up the entire morning by her friends and the young girls of the village. Ino, Hinata and her sister, and a handmaiden sent from the Land of the Frost to prepare her for her wedding that day. Her dress was embroidered with small snowflakes and wisps of silver and baby blue details.

Already she felt as if she were being taken from her village and her heritage with all this decoration from the other land. Not to mention she would be married off somewhere foreign and cold, alone without the comfort of her family and friends here in the Leaf. The only people to be escorting her to the other village would be the handmaid, a couple guards from the Frost, and Kakashi.

Her final request was allowing him to come with her just for the wedding. And maybe it was cruel, to have him there as both their hopes for a happy ending dissolve, but she needed him. There was no way she would make it through the wedding without him standing to the side supporting her, even if the support was purely obligatory.

She never said anything to Tsunade, in fear of being rejected or patronized for changing her mind. Instead. She just waited for the fateful day.

Y/N stood at the gates, arms crossed over her chest as she stared out into the woods, a white and silver carriage sitting before her with 3 horses standing tall ahead. This was the life waiting for her across the boundary, in the faraway land she would never recognize as home. It would be her last day in the village for a long time, at least until she was allowed to leave. Still, her life wouldn’t be the same ever again. She never dreamed of living in a world where she was forced to be a housewife, alone in a giant house without her companions, without the rush of the hunt on missions, without feeling the chakra flowing thickly through her veins.

She’d said her goodbyes. Cleared out her apartment, leaving the majority of her belongings behind with friends and family. She wouldn’t be needing it where she was going.

“Kakashi?” she asked softly, peering over her shoulder at the man leaning against the gate, a book in his hand, the other tucked into his pocket. He wore nice clothing. Better than usual, at least. He wasn’t an honored guest, honestly, he wasn’t truly invited, she was just bringing him along upon her own stubbornness. He looked nice, dressed up like he cared today.

He lifted his eyes and hummed in reply, obviously lost in his own thoughts as well.

“I feel like I should have stayed longer in the village, to say goodbye. Our friends...Gai and all our students, Iruka...I feel like I'm just abandoning them,” she told him. “I just don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye. I guess I just don’t know how to say goodbye, a real goodbye. I’ve never felt like this- like I need to put so much thought behind a farewell because honestly, I’ve never felt like it would be my last one.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I have never intentionally left someone knowing that I’ll never see them again. It fucking sucks that I’m standing here knowing I’ll never see you guys again after this. I can’t accept it like that though. I keep thinking that after this is all over life will be back to normal, but it won’t.”

“I know. We should have tried harder to get you out of this mess. I could have said something-”

“It’s not your fault. I-I shouldn’t have agreed in the first place. I only agreed because I didn’t think I had a chance with you, so what would it matter leaving to be with someone else,” she blurted out, her truths coming out in heavy waves, “It would make me less lonely, I thought, even though it’s clearly done the opposite. I’ve never felt more impending loneliness than I do now.”

He sighed, shutting his book and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. It was like him to bring his romance novellas on a trip like this. She wanted to smile at his hobby, but her heart felt too heavy in her chest to even lift her lips. “I’ll see you again, Y/N. One day, I’ll get the chance to go back there and see you, as long as you let me in.”

“I don’t want it to just be one day,” she cried, throwing her arms down at her sides. She felt gross in these dreary robes, too decorated for her tastes altogether. “I want to see you everyday. I never want to go another day without you by my side. Jesus, this whole situation is just sick.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and furrowed his brow. “Keep quiet. You’re gonna make a scene, Y/N.”

“I just can’t be quiet about this. Don’t you understand how I’m feeling? Aren’t you going to miss me too?” The woman asked, feeling her hands begin to sweat as she clenched them over and over. She stared at him, right into his exposed eye, her breaths becoming shallower with every passing moment. Panic creeped up her neck so quickly, smothering her thoughts, rationale flying out the window.

“Of course I will, L/N. That’s a stupid question, and you know it. I’m just trying not to get caught fraternizing with a future queen, yeah?” he mumbled, his voice hushed. "Just calm down. You're getting pale." He wanted to reach down and run his hands along her arms, smooth over her shoulders for just a bit of comfort, but he refrained. He didn't want to touch her in front of wandering eyes, the eyes of any Frost people.

After scanning the area, she grabbed a hold of his wrist, her fingers firm with no intention of letting go. “We need to leave. You and me, we can get out of here.”

“What?” He could only ask, completely stunned at her suggestion.

“Remember what you told me in the hospital. You told me to run away. We run away from here now, for as long as it takes for the prince to give up on me.” How scandalous, he thought. He couldn’t possibly just take the bride and run, could he? He hadn’t even pondered that route in his nightly daydreaming before bed, tossing and turning trying to think of a way to save his friend from the depths of whatever this prince had to offer.

“Y/N, I meant just you. I-I can’t just go against Lady Tsunade like that-”

“Kakashi Hatake, you’re my best friend, but more importantly, I’m in love with you. If I’m not wrong, the feeling is mutual. If that doesn’t make you want to run away together then I call cowardice,” she said boldly, her eyes never once leaving his own. “Come on, we don’t have the time for this.”

This could ruin him, he knew that full well. But there was just something about this woman he couldn’t let slip from his grasp. His entire world fell into her hands. When he felt that inevitable tug on his arm, pulling him into the familiar woods before them, he found himself following without a single restraint. The only thing he felt was his heart racing in his chest, bursting with an adrenaline he hadn’t felt in a long time.

They pushed through the forest for as long as she could run, tripping over branches and roots along the way, but never losing grip of each other. Her blood pulsed through her veins, and honestly, she had never felt more alive. Her entire life she found herself bowing down to those superior to her, listening to each word they say and meeting their every beck and call. She accepted a proposal she desperately wanted to decline solely to please the Hokage, one of the worst mistakes of all because she needed to obey.

It felt so fucking good to break the rules, to be disobedient for once in her sorry life.

Finally, after running for what seemed like miles, she finally slowed to a stop next to a particularly large tree. Her palms pressed against the rough bark, wood chips digging into her calloused hands. He slowed to a stop beside her and watched silently as she caught her breath, her chest rising and falling under the thick robes she wore.

“These shoes sure as hell aren’t made for running,” she mumbled, looking down at the pathetic slippers they’d given her. “I think we are far enough away that we can sit and talk for a little bit.”

“Yeah, you wanna talk about how you committed treason.”

“You did, too. Don’t blame this all on me.”

“You were the one with all your “cowardice” and “love” crap. God, this entire thing feels like it’d come out of one of Master Jiraiya's novels.”

She took a seat on the ground, not caring if the dirt stained her robes. Why would she care? She was dead either way. If Tsunade ever laid eyes on her again, Y/N knew she’d be a goner. That woman would kill with no hesitation, she was convinced of it. Y/N’s eyes trailed back up to her the man, and she could only groan. “Listen I know there were definitely better ways of doing this, but I’m not the sharpest kunai in the box. I was just doing what my feral instincts were telling me to do. You were the one who just followed after me like a lost puppy.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out, “What was I supposed to do? Think rationally? You’ve got my brain turned to mush half the damn time; what do you want from me?”

“Don’t worry, you’re literally Tsunade’s best ninja- She’ll let you back into the village.”

“You’re not that bad yourself-”

“Yeah, that’s why she tried to pawn me off to the Land of Frost to be a stay-at-home mom. Things aren’t lining up, Kakashi.”

He sighed, finally deciding to take a seat beside her against the tree trunk. He leant his head against the wood, his eyes peering up into the trees. Things had taken a wild turn, that’s for sure. He really did feel like he was in one of his romantic drama, the only thing missing was the R-rated content-Not that that was what he was thinking about, of course not…

How the story would end, he didn’t really know.

“Well, what’s done is done. Whether it was a bad decision or not.”

“I really didn’t think this through.”

“Nope.”

She turned to him, her eyebrows furrowed deeply, frustrated with this entire thing. “Kakashi, I did this because of you. Because of what we have going on between us. Did you want me to be married off to that pig of a prince?” she questioned.

“No.”

She nodded at his answer and leaned back in her spot. Her arms worked their way to being crossed over her chest, and she couldn’t look him in the eyes at this point, her sight set on a particular mushroom a few yards away. Her words were curt, if not awkward, “Speaking of which, we need to discuss what we are or how we feel or whatever.”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Not really. I mean, I’ve told you how I feel already, but um, you haven’t said a thing.”

“But you clearly know.”

She shook her head, a bit of heat rising up her cheeks and ears. “Doesn’t matter. I gotta hear you say it, for real.”

Kakashi let his eyes wander over to the woman, who sat there like a child with her arms crossed and her eyes tucked away somewhere else. He almost wanted to laugh. She reminded him of a student at times with her bashfulness. It was definitely one of the many things he liked about her. “What? Do you want me to tell you I love you, or something?”

“Yes, that would be nice after all the trouble I’ve been through for you.”

He chuckled that time. Of course, all the trouble…”Y/N, I guess I love you. I guess I spent all these years ignoring my feelings, and it took this whole arranged marriage thing to make me realize I was missing out on a really good thing,” he confessed, voice softer than usual. “When you told me in the hospital, riding out your buzz from the spiked tea Gai gave you, that you wished you were marrying me instead, I just knew I had to have you. Truly though, I knew on our first meeting that I wanted you.”

“I was such a clumsy idiot back then. I think I’ve matured a lot since then, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, you’re still a clumsy idiot, just one with great ninjutsu.”

“Hey!”

"All I know is that I loved the feeling of falling in love with you. How good it made me feel. I was more worried about you than ever before, but every time you smiled and said hello, anything you did really, started to make my days better and better,” he continued, “This life has been cold and harsh to me, but you just swooped in and made it worth something.”

She felt her heart beat faster in her chest hearing that, a warmth growing in her stomach as she scooted closer to him, inch by inch. He clearly didn’t take notice or mind, so she pressed her side to his, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. She felt ridiculous in these heavy ginormous robes, too bulky to move properly. She dropped her head on his shoulder gently, and felt him relax into her touch.

“I love you so much it hurts. My hands are shaking because of all the love that’s overflowing,” she told him with a sheepish grin, holding up her hand so he could indeed see that her hand was vibrating. He clasped her hand in his own and lowered them to his lap. His thumb ran over her knuckles in soft strokes, and she melted into the gentle touch of the man she cared so deeply for.

“I’m glad I ran away with you.”

“Me too.”

________________________________

It had been about 3 days before someone found them wandering in a nearby village. It was only a matter of time before they were found and brought back to the Leaf, anyway, so no surprise to them there. It was exciting having a few days without responsibilities, just living almost as if they were civilians in love.

People in the village stared as the pair walked through the streets of the town, whispers being heard and looks shared. It was only a matter of time before everyone knew about the Copy-nin and his battered bride companion being escorted into Konoha.

Tsunade was in her office waiting for them to arrive. The door shut behind them, and Y/N wished someone was there to witness the Hokage murder them, only, the fatal blow never came. Instead, calm words reached their ears.

“I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m really not.”

“Lady Tsunade, let me explain what happened-” Y/N started to say, but she was quickly interrupted.

“I really don’t need to hear the details of your 3 day sex-capade,” she dismissed, a look of disgust crossing her face. Y/N’s face morphed into that of pure horror, the thought of the Hokage and everyone in the village that knew they ran away assuming that’s what they’d been doing. It was humiliating, to say the least. She didn’t have time to process the fact before the Hokage spoke again, “I’m mad because you two essentially committed treason, but thankfully, the prince didn’t have any complaints. He apparently saw a psychic the day of the wedding who told him that his marriage was cursed for eternity, and was ready to call off the entire thing. Superstitious bastard.”

“So, the Land of the Frost and the Leaf are still allies?” Kakashi asked.

“Yes, fortunately," the Hokage stated simply. She lifted her eyes to the younger woman, and the exasperation was obvious in her appearance as well as tone. The girl in question nervously rubbed her forearm, embarrassed beyond belief. It was one thing getting screamed at, but it was another to be scolded like a child. "Y/N, if you wanted to break the arrangement, you should have just told me. I could have worked it out somehow. There was no need for all this drama.”

She bit her lip, not knowing what to say. She really should have said something before, but she was foolish. “I know, but I didn’t want to disappoint you," the woman mumbled awkwardly.

“Well, you did.” Ouch, so blunt.

“I know.”

She nodded, clearly having said what needed to be said. Her eyes dipped back down to her paperwork. The air wasn't nearly as heavy as when the pair first walked in, and Y/N finally felt air fill her lungs once again. Her nerves had really been for nothing, thankfully.

“Very well, you two are dismissed. Don't go around pulling shit like this again, or I’ll see to it that you actually receive punishment.”

The doors shut behind them, and Y/N let a smile grow on her cheeks. She turned to the man at her side, her smile only growing that much more at the sight of his handsome face. “Things sure worked out for me. I didn’t get in trouble for my crimes, and I have a boyfriend now,” she gleamed.

He smirked, rolling his eyes. “Don’t get too cocky. You still have to deal with Gai.”

“I’m not prepared for the amount of hugs I am about to receive.”

“Neither am I.”

And as they heard those oh-so familiar, loud footsteps rushing up the stairs of the Hokage Tower, they knew they were in for it.

"Kakashi! Y/N! I heard the joyous news of your return!"

Oh, boy.

#naruto x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x reader #kakashi one shot #naruto imagine #naruto one shot #kakashi imagine #kakashi hatake #my writing #i really hope someome enjoys this

202 notes · View notes

weelittleweasley · 3 years

Text

Amortentia | Draco x Reader

Prompt: After having a large crush on Draco for two years, you decide to move on for your own sake. But what happens when you are in potions class and what you smell is not that of your current boyfriend, but of an old flame?

Warnings: angst, a lil fluff at the end

Requests status: Open and ready for some requests

A/N: New fandom, same old writer hehe. I thought I’d come back after a long hiatus and write a little something. Quarantine/the pandemic has me back in my teenage self. In this, we go through year 4 to year 6, so GoF to HBP :)

The bellows of the professor at the front of the classroom fall into muffled murmurs as you go in and out of daydreams, fiddling with the quill in your writing hand. As you draw nonsense pictures in the margins in your notebook, you fantasize scenarios in your head of the boy you’ve had your eye on since the beginning of year four at Hogwarts. In your head, it all made sense. The two of you were pure blood Slytherins, competitive and ballsy, ready to fight at a moment’s notice. That’s what you adored so much about the blonde boy. He may have his moments, but he always seemed to be ready for whatever.

The corners of your mouth twirl upwards into a smile as you think about being able to wear his jumper, smelling his cologne on the collar. You think about his hands on your hip bones, squeezing them lightly as he peppers small, soft kisses on your neck and collarbones. Yearning to lace your fingers with his as he dips down his head to place a tender kiss to your l-

“Miss (Y/L/N), do you have anything to add?” Professor Moody snaps you from your daydream as you sit straight up, feet planted on the foot, picking your quill up back in writing position. You clear your throat and shake your head back and forth. “If you have nothing to add, I’d recommend you quit daydreaming and focus on what is going on at the front of the classroom.”

You breathe out a small, “Yessir,” before returning your attention back to your work. Small giggles are let out across the classroom, relishing in your embarrassment. Heat rises to your cheeks and you try to make yourself smaller by sinking into your chair a little and ducking your head downward. Peering up through your eyelashes, you try to sneak a look a Draco who is seated only two tables ahead and to the left of you. As you do so, you see that he was looking at you the whole time, him chuckling with Blaise Zabini before returning their focus to the blackboard. Embarrassment washes over you yet again, caught in the act of looking at the boy you fancied.

Within the hour, Moody dismisses class and you gather your things swiftly, trying to leave class without Moody stopping you to ask why your mind was elsewhere today. As you fling your satchel across your body and tuck your notebook under your arm, you scurry out the door only to be stopped by Blaise.

“Would you move it, Zabini? I have to get to astronomy,” you push Blaises large chest with your hand, before booking it in the opposite direction. You can’t escape him, or so it seems, because he walks beside you now down the corridor to your next class. “Are you obsessed with me or something? What’s your deal?”

Blaise laughs, “I didn’t know that you get so distracted during class, doodling and dreaming, (Y/N). What’s more interesting than a class with Moody?” He nudges his shoulder into you, making you stumble a little bit as you walk.

Now getting really annoyed since he brought up what happened in class, you stop in your tracks and hit him with your notebook. “Leave. Me. Alone. You. Arse,” you speak in between slaps and Blaise just laughs as you swat him. Before you can walk away from him, he quickly snatches your notebook from your hands and your eyes grow wide. If he flipped through the pages just right, he could see all of your Draco doodles. “Hey, give that back! That’s private!”

You jump for your notebook, but with no avail since Blaise was significantly taller than you. He carelessly flips through pages, “Now what does Miss (Y/L/N) write about in class? Taking diligent notes?” With one final shove, your notebook falls onto the ground, wide open to the page where you have written Draco Malfoy in script in the margins of your notebook, so much so that it creates a border around your note in the center of the page. Blaise lets out a deep chuckle, “Ho-ho! That’s where little Miss (Y/L/N)’s thoughts have been! The Slytherin Prince!”

Before Blaise can torment you anymore, you grab your notebook off the floor and slam it shut. Your heart is racing, Blaise is in Draco’s inner circle and if Blaise knew about your crush, that meant Draco was bound to find out. Your anxiety swells and your chest tightens. Your grip becomes iron on your notebook now, unwilling to surrender it if someone dares to snatch it away from you again. You look up at Blaise and if you look up any longer at the shit-eating grin he has on his face, you’ll start crying. As if this day could not get any worse. Blaise immediately recognizes your facial expression as a girl who has just been hurt and he instantly retaliates, regretting what he just did. “I told you that was private,” you manage to speak out before walking away briskly.

The sound of quickened footsteps follow you and Blaise voice says, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought we were having fun, that’s all!” he attempts to rationalize. You ignore his feeble attempt at an apology. “I won’t tell Malfoy. It’ll just inflate his ego,” he attempts to humor you.

“I would hope not. That would be the most human thing to do,” you spit at him. “Just leave me alone, okay? I think you’ve done enough damage for today.”

“(Y/N)!” Blaise calls out before you turn around to enter your next class. “Please. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it.”

You look at him and by the look on his face, you can tell he means it, which is surprising. You sigh, “I believe you. Just...don’t do it again. And please, don’t tell...” you don’t want to say his name in fear if you say it, he’ll come right around the corner. “...him.”

Blaise offers you a warm smile. “Your secret is safe with me.” You let go of your held breath, some tension releasing from your shoulders. “Can I just ask? What is the fascination of him? Is it his hair?” he asks, making you laugh lightly. There were many reasons you liked Draco; his personality, his smile, his drive, the cool blue gray color of his eyes, the way his nose scrunched up when he laughed. There was so much to like. Blaise notices your pregnant pause and smiles, “Never mind me asking. I have a feeling it will take too long to get your response.”

“Goodbye, Zabini,” you trail off, trying to slip into your class before he stops you yet again.

“Wait! Um,” Blaise stutters. “So, the Yule Ball is coming up soon. And I know maybe you were hoping to get asked by a certain...someone else,” he winks as you roll your eyes, “but I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?” he delivers the last part confidently, like he was giving you a sales pitch.

You quickly thought about it. Although the chances of Draco asking you were slim to none, you still were holding out that maybe he noticed you and wanted to take you to the Yule Ball. But the proposition with Blaise sounded like fun. Blaise knew how to have a good time and you rather go with another Slytherin than with some half-blood from another house. And as selfish as it was to say, you would probably be invited to get ready with the other Slytherin girls like Pansy which meant more time to see Draco. Offering him a sweet smile you reply, “I’d like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to go to class, Zabini.”

Blaise smiles and lightly blushes, but turns away, hoping you would not catch it. But you did before you slipped into your astronomy class before the professor started.

Soon enough, the Yule Ball rolled around and like you had previously thought, you found yourself in Pansy’s room, getting ready for the ball. You lightly tugged the rollers out of Pansy’s hair, helping her finish getting ready as she rambles on and on to Daphne Greengrass about their magical creatures class. A small smile tugs on your lips as you remain bystander to the conversation, enjoying the ridiculousness of the conversation. Your thoughts are disturbed when Pansy says, “Oh, wow, (Y/N). When you said you could do hair, you meant it!” She shakes her head side to side, causing her loose curls to shimmy across her shoulders. You had to admit she looked beautiful.

You shrug, “Don’t mention it. Could you zip up the back of my dress?” You turn around, feeling the zipper close, the dress fitting around your figure tighter. When you turn around, you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Iridescent green fabric clung to your body fabulously, a deep v plunging down to your chest, your dècolletage shimmering in the light. It was a stunning dress; your mom had sent it over from London. It was her dress when she went to the Yule Ball at your age.

“You look radiant,” Daphne tells you, placing her hands on your shoulders. “Blaise is going to be drooling.” Pansy and Daphne giggle, hoping you would join in. But you just offer them a small smile in return, secretly wishing there was another boy who would be gawking over how radiant you looked. “Something wrong?” Daphne asks.

Pansy looks at your face, “Do you not wanna go to the ball anymore?”

“No!” you exclaim. “I do! I do want to go!” You calm down both the girls as they dramatically sigh. “I just did not picture myself going to the ball with Blaise,” you confess.

The girls exchange confused expressions before looking back at you. “What do you mean? Do you not fancy Blaise?” Pansy asks.

“No! I like Blaise! He’s a charming boy, don’t get me wrong. And he’s very handsome.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Pansy asks.

He’s not Draco, you think to yourself. But instead of that you say, “I just fancy someone else.” That was probably too much information to give to the girls, you know they would take and spread some sort of rumor, but you give them the benefit of the doubt. “This does not leave this room,” you say sternly. You extend both of your pinky fingers to Daphne and Pansy, making them pinky promise and kiss their thumbs: your ritual for making promises.

“So...” Daphne starts. “Can we know who you do fancy then?”

Your anxiety peaks again. If you even murmured that you liked Draco, Pansy would probably loose her mind. Pansy basically called dibs on Draco when you stepped foot at Hogwarts. In all seriousness, Pansy has fancied Draco longer than you, so it just seemed inconsiderate and rude to tell her that you had feelings for the same platinum haired boy. “You’ll find out later. Besides, we should get going now,” you change the subject.

You make your way down the stairs and the winding halls of Hogwarts before arriving at a tall staircase leading to the Ball’s entrance. Your arms are linked with both Daphne and Pansy’s as you descend the staircase. Your eyes roam the floor, looking for a certain blonde haired Slytherin and you almost immediately find him. And to your surprise, his eyes have found you. Your pair of eyes burns into his, creating a tunnel vision. The orchestra that plays in the other room becomes white noise and everyone else seems to disappear. It is just you and him now. He look absolutely dashing. His suit fits him excellently and his hair is perfectly swept back. His eyes are open in wonder as he watches you descent the staircase, looking absolutely regal. This moment feels like forever and you never wanted it to end. But it sadly does when you both realize you haven’t looked at either of your actual dates to the ball. Your eyes drift away from his blue ones and they meet Blaise’s brown ones instead. He is smiling big at you which makes you laugh. When you make it down the stairs, he meets you at the bottom and grabs your hand like an absolute gentleman. “You are unearthly, (Y/L/N),” he whispers before kissing the back of your hand.

Smiling at the compliment, you thank him. “You are not too bad yourself, Zabini.” He did look great. His suit was tailored perfectly to his tall, muscular figure and his shoes were shined so bright that you could practically see your reflection in them.

“Shall we head in there?” he asks, offering his arm to you to hold. You smile and take his arm. But not before taking one look at Draco. He kisses Pansy’s hand gently, but as he does this, his gaze is on you the whole time and only breaks when he comes back up to look at Pansy and give her a smile.

This was going to be a long night.

Since that night, your relationship with Blaise grew. You went from friends, to something more than friends, to boyfriend and girlfriend. You didn’t expect to end up dating Zabini after the Yule Ball, but you decided that maybe pursing something with him was more realistic than chasing after Draco. He obviously had a thing for Pansy and Pansy for him and who were you to ruin that? So you let yourself use Blaise as a distraction or someone else to focus on rather than pining over Draco. However, it did drive you mad when you would all be in Slytherin common room and you sat on the floor next to Blaise and Pansy would sit on Draco’s lap when there was plenty of room on the couch. You also did not feel bad when Blaise would make fun on Pansy having an obvious crush on him. You would hide your laugh as Blaise pulled you closer to him.

That being said, as you got closer with Blaise, you got closer with his friends. Which meant having to face Draco and swallow your feelings. You always felt like such a poser when you were with Blaise. You knew it was wrong to date someone who genuinely liked you and you liked someone else. But you just crossed your fingers and hoped that your feelings for Malfoy would melt away and your feelings for Blaise would grow. Of course, with your luck, nothing happened. Your feelings for Draco were just solidified if anything. He was cheeky and smart mouthed, which you just loved. He kept you on your toes. Blaise wasn’t like that; he was predictable. Draco would make jokes that only you two would hear and you would laugh until your ribs shook. Blaise has never done that. But it wasn’t right to compare Blaise to Draco; it was an unfair competition.

Regardless, you stayed with Blaise. Too afraid to break up with him and too afraid to tell Draco how you felt, you stayed in a relationship where you lied not only to yourself but to another person every day. A good person at that. Blaise was a great guy and every day you held his hand, shared a kiss, cuddled up together, you felt guilty. You were hurting him more and more with everyday. And you were hurting yourself by being in this relationship for so long. But you stayed.

Back in a classroom, this time Slughorn’s potions class, you stood next to Pansy waiting for the class to begin. You looked across the room to see your boyfriend toss you a wink as you lightly smiled. “I love you,” he mouthed as you sighed.

You did love Blaise. So much. But not in the way he wanted. And yet, here you were, mouthing an “I love you too” back to him, causing him to smile wide. You turn to Pansy, “So what are we supposed to be doing today? If it’s boring, I’m going to use the washroom.” Using the washroom was always code for going back to your room.

Pansy giggled, “Today’s class should be good. I heard Slughorn has Amortentia today.” Your heart sank. Amortentia: the most powerful love potion in the world. People say that it smells different for everyone according to what they are most attracted to. “Your should be easy. Smells just like Zabini I bet,” she nudges your side as you offer a convincing smile and girlish giggle. “I’m sure I know what mine smells of...” she trails off before looking over to Draco who was too involved talking to Zabini to notice her gaze.

Slughorn starts class, reciting off lists of potions to which Granger completes his every question without fail. You roll your eyes, “Some people are just such show offs,” you whisper to Pansy, making her laugh. You join her, causing Draco to look your way, more interested in what you were laughing at rather than the lesson Slughorn was giving. You look away from Draco and focus back on the lesson, hoping it would distract you from those familiar gray eyes.

Hermoine talks more about Amortentia before prompting Slughorn to ask your classmates to come up at random and speak what they smell. Granger goes first and describes a horrific combination of mowed grass and spearmint toothpaste. Others go after and then Blaise volunteers to go next. “Mr. Zabini, please, go head,” Slughorn says before Blaise steps up to the small caldron and take a whiff.

“I smell...morning rain...vanilla...and jasmine,” he smiles as he finishes his sentence, looking right at you. Your heart sinks. Blaise had smelt your perfume and everyone in the class knew it. Those who were friends with him laughed as Pansy let out an ooooh. You told her to shut up with a jab to the side as she continued to tease you.

“Miss (Y/L/N), you’ve been awfully quiet this class. How about you come up and smell?” Slughorn proposes.

You freeze. Absolutely not. There was no way you were going to get up there and smell the Amortentia. You knew exactly what you were going to smell and you were not prepared to tell the class and your boyfriend that what you were smelling was Draco Malfoy.

“I’m fine, actually.”

“That was less of a question and more of a demand, Miss (Y/L/N),” Slughorn rephrases, earning a few laughs from Gryffindors to which you shoot them a dirty look, causing them to stop. “Well?”

You look at Slughorn and gulp. He offers you a gentle smile and you can’t deny the man any further. You sigh and slowly walk up to the caldron. You are a foot away and already the scent slaps you in the face. It almost makes you cough from how strong it is. Right next to the pot, you look down at the bubbling liquid with pink fumes evaporating from it. Closing your eyes and iInhaling deeply, you get chills. The scent makes you forget where you are. What time it is. Who is watching. It’s euphoric. It’s perfect. It’s him. The smell of musky cologne, leather polish, and green apples dance around your nose and your stomach erupts with butterflies.

“What do you smell?” Slughorn asks, snapping you out of your daydream.

“I’m sorry?” you ask.

“What do you smell?” he repeats.

Suddenly, you remember that you have to tell the class what you are smelling. Or who you are smelling. Once you said what you smelled, everyone would know who you were talking about. Pansy would know. Blaise would know. Draco would know. You try to think. What in the world does Blaise smell like? Can you lie about this stuff? For Merlin’s sake, what does Blaise smell like?! “Um...” you try to concoct your way out of this situation. You try to think of what your boyfriend smells like, but the scent of Malfoy is clogging every single sense.

“Say it then,” Slughorn urges you.

“Cologne, leather polish, and green apples,” you blurt, confessing what you were most afraid of to the class. You slowly open your eyes and see the smile that was once on Blaise face quickly fall. His eyes pang with hurt and pain and your heart drops into your stomach. You wanna run over to him and tell him how sorry you were and how much you loved him, but this thing with the Slytherin prince was unshakeable. Too hurt to look at Blaise anymore, you glance at Pansy, who is just enraged. Her ears are bright red, eye locked onto you, unwavering. Her eyes dig into your soul and you can hear her saying in your head, “You’re bloody joking, right?” You don’t dare look at Draco, but in the periphery you see him just staring at you, lips parted, breathing softly, eyes burning into the back of your head.

Slughorn notices the tension and attempts to diffuse the situation. “Alright, everyone take your seats,” he dismisses. You walk quickly to Pansy who swiftly moves away to you and toward Blaise who sits with Draco, taking up a whole table with no room for you like usual. Instead, you find yourself sitting with random Ravenclaws for the rest of class, unable to think straight about what just happened. The look on Blaise’s face was enough to have you in tears and the look of betrayal on Pansy’s face drove you mad. You spent the whole class thinking, what have I done?

As soon as class is dismissed, you watch Blaise’s movements, wanting to catch him or Pansy after class. Pansy leaps off her chair and to the door and you quickly follow suit. “Pansy!” you call after her. “Pans, please! Please can we talk about this? Please do not shut me out!”

“Why not?” she yells back. “You lied to me! You could have told me how you felt! You knew how i felt and yet you still lied to me!”

“I know, but I thought what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. But I just ended up hurting you anyway and I am sorry, Pansy. I am so sorry,” you attempt to reconcile with your best friend as she fumes.

Pansy shakes her head. “I just need space. Away from you. Can you at least respect that?” she sarcastically says. “There’s someone else you owe a bigger apology to,” she tells you before trotting away down the hall back to the Slytherin common room.

You turn around and there stands Blaise, stoic and tall. His eyes are soft and full of so much pain. You could cry. You start to cry. “Blaise,” you croak out. “I didn't mean to hurt you. Please know that is the last thing I wanted to do. When you asked me to the Yule Ball, I thought that it would be a good way to get over Draco, but I-I don’t know what happened? Nothing happened, I guess. I value you and your friendship so much. Blaise, I love you, I’m so sorry. I thought not tell you how I really, truly felt would protect you.”

Blaise sighs, “(Y/N), I know you didn’t mean to. For Merlin’s sake, I’m not a git. I knew you still liked Malfoy.” Your eyes widen. Huh? Before you could ask every single question that flurried into your brain, Blaise stops you and says, “From that moment in the hallway during year four until now, I knew. I thought that the longer I stayed with you, I could convince you that I could love you more than he could. But I don’t think that’s true...(Y/N), I love you. What either of us did was not right and I think we just need space from each other right now.”

You shake your head. You couldn’t lose Pansy and Blaise. That would be too much. “No, I can’t lose you, Blaise. I need you,” you beg, holding onto his forearms.

“It isn’t for forever, darling. Just for a little. I think we both a need a little space from each other right now,” he holds your face in one of his hands and you lean into his touch, soothing you almost instantly like it has done so many times before. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” You nod, him wiping away your tears before replacing it with a gentle kiss on the apple of your cheek. “Besides, I think you have to talk to someone else,” he whispers in your ear, before walking away, revealing Draco standing behind him.

Your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes burn into yours just like that night at the Yule Ball. A small smile on his lips dances as a last tear strolls down your cheek. He takes a few steps towards you and you instinctively take a few steps back. Draco looks a little hurt that you moved away from him so quickly. You gulp, not knowing what to say, what to do. Who would in a situation like this? Lightly sniffling, you wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your robe, not breaking eye contact with him. Draco opens up his mouth to say something, but then chooses not to. He closes his mouth, pressing his lips into a line, thinking of what to say. You watch him think, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he finds the right words to say.

“Uh,” he starts. “How lo-”

“Year four,” you answer, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

He lightly laughs at how prepared you were to answer him. He nods. “I thought,” he lightly speaks, looking at you with a small smile. He is trying so hard to get you to open up to him. Or even crack a small smile at him. But that seemed really impossible right now. The two people who you cared about more than anything just told you they needed time away from you. You felt like an awful person. Although you should be in Draco’s arm right now, stroking his hair, kissing his lips, telling him how happy you were, you were standing four feet away from him, a shaking mess, tears still flowing from your eyes. “Here,” he reaches into his pocket and offers you a handkerchief.

“Thanks,” you mumble, accepting his token, blotting your eyes with the green silky cloth. You blow your nose into it, loudly. You look at him, watching his reaction, wondering if you should return a snotty handkerchief. “I...I can wash it for you.”

He chuckles, “Don’t worry about it. Keep it if you need it.” You smile and tug it away in your bag. Silence falls over you two again. “Can I stand next to you?” he asks permission, knowing how fragile you are right now. You nod and he slowly makes his way towards you, stopping about three inches away from you. Your breath hitches in your throat when you look up and see the proximity of your faces from each other. “May I hold you hand?” he asks, you shaking your head yes slowly. With that, he grabs your left hand in his large hand, pressing yours flat against his before intertwining the fingers. It makes you smile softly which makes his heart flutter at your excitement. Draco so desperately wants to hug you, squeeze you, kiss you. But he knows he needs tread lightly. “I wanted to take you to the Yule Ball,” he confesses as he looks at your hands intertwined.

Your head shoots up and your eyebrows furrow. “You did?” you ask, not believing him. He shakes his head yes. You pause. This made no sense. “Then why didn’t you ask me?” you ask.

Draco sighs. “I didn’t know you well. Zabini said he wanted to ask you. I stepped back.” So much has happened today you cannot wrap your brain around what has just been said. “But now...I know you better. And now that you and Zabini are no longer...” he trails off, looking up at you with those chilling blue eyes that make your knees weak and heart putty.

You want to scream yes. Wrap your arms around him. Kiss him. Hard. Breath in his scent that has haunted you for nights on end. Finally, he was yours. You were his. But that would not be right. It wouldn’t be fair to Blaise. Or Pansy. Or you. Or Draco. You needed time. “Draco...” you say, breathily.

“Yes?” he asks, eyes so bright and shimmering with so much hope and longing. Merlin’s beard, he wanted to kiss your tear stained cheeks and hold you close, bodies becoming one. “Is something wrong?” he asks, worry creeping into his words, his free hand that isn’t holding your hand, cups your cheek. “Please tell me. I don’t want to wait any longer. I can’t wait any longer.”

His words make your heart break, knowing that you needed to wait longer. Just a little bit longer. “Draco...” you repeat, the tears welling back up in your eyes, slowly dripping own your cheek, but Draco is quick to wipe them away. “I...” you start, but your voice fails you.

“Take your time,” he breathes. Oh, how he was so right.

“I need time,” you repeat after him.

“Yes, take your time. Breathe,” he says, thinking that what you are saying is applying to just now.

“No, Draco,” you tell him, reaching up to his wrist, pushing his hand away from your face. “I need time. To process this. Blaise, Pansy...us...I need time.”

His eyes fall and the once happy expression on his face is fading fast. But he knows that you were right. It would be too fast. Too much for the both of you. You both needed time to think, recover, and come back to each other.

“And I will wait for you,” he reassures you, both of his hands cupping your small ones. “If I waited this long already, I can wait a little while longer.”

It’s like he knew exactly what to say. His words make you smile softly and you feel just a little bit better. Your smile makes me him smile. So you just stand there, your hand in his two large ones, smiling at each other. He places a tender kiss on your knuckles and then another to your forehead. His actions make your heart flutter, knowing that if this is what a relationship with Draco was like right now, you were in for a treat. You whisper a weak thank you and he shakes his head, laughing that you would thank him for something like this.

“Now go get some rest, darling,” he presses his forehead against yours and you flutter your eyes closed, loving the feeling of him being so close to you. It felt so good to finally have him next to you. You pull away, give him a gentle smile, and start to walk back to the Slytherin common room.

Draco watches you walk away, down the hall. In his head, he thought to himself, I can wait a little longer. Because you are worth waiting for.

423 notes · View notes