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toartemis · 5 years

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Speaking with the Wind

As promised, here is the sequel to Feral Without Teeth. I wrote this a bit over a month ago, but got caught up in summer classwork and medical issues, and to top it all off, my beta dipped out of the equation. But here it is! This is part 2 of The Moon’s Serenades series, you can read part one here. If you want to skip it, it’s not necessary to read before this, but it does add some extra flavor. Also, you can read this on Ao3. This isn’t what I think will happen in TQoN, this is just for fun. Creative liberties were taken in the writing of this.

Summary: Jude’s coronation is coming up. She tries finally dealing with her emotions. Magic!Queen!Jude.

Word Count: 7,348

Warnings: Brief mention of sexual situations, overview of anxiety, failing to compartmentalize lol.

Preview:

“For a moment, I considered you might run,” He murmurs. Something about this makes Jude’s throat tighten.

She wants to say she isn’t afraid; that she’s ready for this and that she knows what she’s doing.

But she doesn’t want to lie to him right now.

“Would you let me?” She asks instead.

With the arm he has draped over and around her, he begins tracing patterns delicately on her chest with his long fingers.

“Yes,” He whispers. “If you wanted a life free of chaos and of me, I would let you go. I would do anything so long as you are safe and happy.”

---------

Vivi's apartment seemed to welcome her with open arms when Jude arrived from Elfhame earlier in the day. From the moment she stepped back into the mortal world, the sky couldn't quite seem to stop pouring down thick sheets of water. For once, Jude found this puzzling. Then, to her surprise, she felt consoled.

During the months of her exile, Jude never paid any attention to things as mundane as weather patterns. She was very much caught up in her deep hole of self-pity, which she wallowed in as gracefully as possible for someone in that same situation. Until the end, at least.

Even before, during her younger years, Jude gave no mind to the weather most days. She focused on strategy training and sword practicing. She focused on staying at Taryn's side and keeping her head down even when she didn't want to.

And when she was caught up in the game of crowns and princes, she had no time to think of sunshine or rain.

But it's different now, Jude supposes. It will be different now.

All day, the mortal world's sky crackled and rolled. Vivi was not home when Jude arrived. She and Oak made their way to Faerie some days ago. With no need to avoid anyone like she usually does, Jude simply made her way to her closet-room and found a place to sit on her bed near the window. The sheets were left untouched from the last morning she was there.

Here Jude sits. Her arm is propped on the window sill and her chin rests atop her hand. She watches the rain come down for hours until midnight comes and goes, until the dark night fades and the early dawn creeps in. Here she lets herself ponder something as simple as the weather for the first time since long before her arrival in Faerie.

Here she thinks of her mother.

Eva loved storms. She remembers this vaguely. Jude always listened intently to her mother when she spoke of them, hanging onto every word. She relishes in those memories now. Those words are blankets of comfort she never let herself yearn for all of her years of betrayal and enchantments and power.

When the wind is silent, be sure to speak. It is listening, and will gobble up your words and make them magic!

Her mother’s voice echoes in her head. Jude smiles at how real Eva’s advice seems now. She knows now the wind really is magical, like how all forests are magic. The wind carries enchantments like the creatures that sit quietly within it waiting to snatch up whispers when people think no one is around. When they think nothing can go wrong. When they think they are perfectly safe. Jude knows this well.

Do not step outside when the wind is howling. Spirits are close.

Don't speak badly of the wind, it will hear you.

Listen when storms speak, it is rude to ignore them.

When the wind dances around you, dance with it, maybe one day it will carry you on an adventure!

Right she was. Jude's life has been an adventure, and she supposes it will be until the end of her days.

She closes her eyes and wishes she could hear the exact tones of her mother's voice in this moment. The storm is speaking outside and droplets of water are pattering against the window. Jude is silent, contemplating and listening. If a few tears have slipped down her cheeks in the past hours, Jude does not care and feels no weakness because of them.

Spending an afternoon thinking about her mother was not the sort escape she had planned, but it led her closer to the peace she was searching for nonetheless.

Jude places hand against the window and watches as it begins to fog around her fingers. The ruby ring on her finger glints gently in the dim moonlight.

She closes her eyes and breathes.

I miss you, Mom.

My coronation is tomorrow. I wonder what you would think if you were here to see it.

---------

The last few weeks have been unlike anything Jude could have imagined. After her reunion with Cardan, she spent three days with him alone in his chambers. Those moments are more precious to her than she intended for them to be, but then again, she has, of late, been trying to force away old habits of never letting herself have anything good.

So, yes, Jude has kept those days close to her heart. Those memories with him, of kisses and promises, of the two of them letting themselves be without any of their usual games. They are like a fragile star cradled to her chest that has lit her up from the inside. She's done nothing but glow as they began to melt away months of wounds.

But they eventually came to an end, and Cardan had to return to his throne. They'd spoken of what was to come now that Jude was home, but their plans never seemed quite real to her. There were talks of titles and crowns, and a seat to match his on the dais in the throne room. All of it made Jude feel anxious, so she avoided those conversations whenever possible.

Then there was a feast in honor of her return. The Court’s confusion caused by this announcement lasted only seconds and gave way to the idea of more drinking and dancing, the Folks’ favorite things to do.

Everything surrounding the actual event was surreal for Jude. Cardan insisted on a brand new gown to be tailored for her, while Jude was perfectly happy with wearing something simple and countered that a new dress would not be ready in time.

It was ready, though. Turns out a light demand from the High King is as magical as the crown on his head.

Upon waking on the night of the feast, Jude opened her eyes to an empty bed and a grumpy Tatterfell in her face. They did not exchange pleasantries, but Jude complied when the imp told her she was sent to style her hair for the day. She sat in front of a large mirror as Tatterfell expertly pulled her hair into a flattering bun in the shape of a rose at the base of her neck, braiding and knotting some strands as she went. She left quickly after she finished, when Cardan entered his—their—rooms with Jude's new dress in his arms.

"I wanted to give it to you myself," He said, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "I described to them what you usually wear. I thought you'd like something that befits you." Jude had given little thought to the rushed tailoring of her new outfit, so it hadn't occurred to her that Cardan might have had a part in the design. The thought was incredibly ridiculous, but her heart fluttered nonetheless.

Jude stood as he laid the dress on his bed and looked expectantly at her. She'd never been one to care much about fashion, but she felt at home as she laid eyes on her new gown. It was made of a thick, smooth material, all white and high-collared with gold embroidery on the neck and lines of the bodice. It looked like a fancier, sleeker version of one of her doublets from her time as the Shadow Queen. The sleeves were long and dipped to the floor, with a heavy, short train featuring more gold patterns. It looked like a perfect mixture of armor and elegance.

It was very her. She couldn't help turning to beam at Cardan, and found him watching her face intently to gauge her reactions.

She had yet to leave his quarters in her few days back in Elfhame, but now that their period of bliss was over, she found she was looking forward to making her entrance back into the Court with Cardan by her side.

---------

The festivities were in full swing and Jude barely had time to catch her breath as a royal guard announced the arrival of the High King and herself. She felt as if she was being swept along as they entered into the great hall of the palace.

Every eye of the Court was on them in an instant. Despite that being disconcerting to Jude, Cardan seemed in his element with her hooked on his arm, and he strode straight to the middle of the room. What baffled her the most that night were the looks shot their way throughout the revel. Everywhere she glanced there was anger, curiosity, disbelief, and, just once, delight reflected on the faces she saw. Cardan and Jude never parted once during the feast, they stayed properly attached by arms or hands the entire time, even when the occasional Courtier came to mingle with them. They were each other’s lifelines that night. faerie after faerie, creature after creature approached them in waves, the chatter they brought stilted and short.

Jude could tell what was on everyone's minds, but was being left unsaid.

What exactly is her relationship with the High King, and just how solid is it?

Cardan, it seemed, never felt it necessary to mention their marriage during conversation. Jude didn’t study that fact closely, but she did suppose that she had already announced it herself when she was exiled. No one seemed to believe her then, though, so the guessing game the Court was playing was in full-swing. It left a horribly thick tension in the air. Jude could feel sweat cooling on her brow. It had been hours since their arrival, and for a second or two, she wished someone would just ask.

In the end, she took care of it herself.

Shocker.

Jude locked eyes with Oriana, who seemed to be staring at her with some form of indifference, but there was something else lurking in her eyes. Jude decided to file away that away to pick apart another time. Behind her was Madoc, looking off to a door in the palace. Jude quickly tore her eyes away then, and neither one of them approached her. She was so caught in her own thoughts, she barely even noticed Cardan was leading her towards to dais.

"Jude."

She snapped back to attention at the sound of his voice.

"Were you listening?" He asked quietly, face bent towards hers as they skirted the dancing Folk in the middle of the floor.

"No," Was all she said. He raised one impeccable eyebrow at her. She wanted to scoff, but at that moment, Taryn flitted by on Locke’s arm.

Anxiety grew in Jude’s chest. She halted her feet, tugging Cardan to a stop near his throne in the back of the room.

Her eyes caught her sister’s, but neither exchanged words. Jude simply stared at Taryn with a mixture of anger and sadness rolling in her stomach.

Then Cardan had a hand cradled to her face, lifting it so she could look him in the eyes.

"Jude, darling—"

He never finished, because at that moment, they both saw Nicasia strutting towards them at a graceful, yet chilling speed. Jude briefly realized she hadn't seen her at the revel just days ago when she returned to Elfhame, or thought of her at all until this moment, but suddenly they were standing face-to-face.

The fury in Nicasia's eyes was mighty. Cardan tightened his hold on Jude's arm. Without warning, Jude’s mouth acted before her mind could even hope to catch up.

"Lovely to see you again," Jude panicked a bit internally at herself, but was relieved only annoyance could be heard dripping in her voice. Nicasia looked livid, but even with her murderous expression she was stunning. She barely spared Jude a single glance. All her attention was on the High King.

"Is it true?” Nicasia snarled pointedly at Cardan. "You've married in secret?"

Instantaneously, a pin could drop in the room and Jude would be able to hear it. This is what the entire Court has been waiting for.

Cardan said nothing back to her. Jude, even with her thoughts gathered then, decided on her own to exercise that incredible talent she has to piss magical creatures off.

"It was never a secret. I believe I announced it myself some months ago."

A few crazed, thrilled giggles went around the room with some sharp breaths. Her nerves soared with each one.

Oh, the way Nicasia shook with rage. She still did not acknowledge Jude.

"Is this a joke, Cardan? You are the High King, and you married a mortal rat?"

"It’s far from a joke." Cardan said, jaw clenched.

Nicasia snorted. "And you think the Court will accept this? A mortal as their Queen?" This sent whispers through the hall. Jude wanted to knock her pretty teeth in.

"They will." The finality in his voice sent chills down Jude's spine. Nicasia kept on.

"She is nothing compared to you. To us. She is the dirt beneath our feet. Less than vermin. Her kind are born to die. She is bones and dust, she will rot away while you live on, and yet you bind yourself to her."

The Court was on edge, drinking in the sight before them like they were foaming at the mouth, greedy for the dramatics. Jude felt detached from the situation, like she was watching this be said about someone else. Honestly, it was nothing she hadn’t heard before, nothing she hadn’t heard her entire life in Faerie. But Cardan trembled in her hold. Distantly, she was aware of roots cracking out of the ceiling. Jude squeezed his forearm and hoped it was reassuring. Cardan relaxed, and the ceiling settled immediately. He took a breath.

"You, Nicasia, are, and will never be anything compared to her." He was eerily calm, his voice almost sweet.

Nicasia looked like she took a hit to the gut.

"As you so kindly pointed out, I am the High King, and if you speak poorly of my wife again, I will make sure you regret ever crawling out of the sea."

Nicasia gasped.

"Get out," Jude said, feeling more powerful than she thought she could at that moment. Cardan gestured to the guards a few paces away from them, and they marched towards a frightened Nicasia as she backed away.

Jude felt sheer triumph as she watched the girl be led out the doors, hurling insults and threats at the guards.

The Court looked excited yet stricken, and eventually, all eyes peeled from where Nicasia left to settle on them once more. Jude's anxiety returned tenfold. She was trying to process what was happening and what it might mean, but it was too much for the moment.

What is wrong with me? Compartmentalize, Jude. Compartmentalize.

Uncomfortable with all of the attention of the night, Jude looked to Cardan as a way of focusing her scattered thoughts. He was staring off to where Nicasia was just dragged away, and though he looked settled and perfectly regal on the surface, Jude could read him well enough to know that he was close to snapping.

"Can we even do that? To her of all people?" She was mostly sarcastic, but she felt the need to break through the silence surrounding them. The tension left his face.

"We just did." He drawled, then met her gaze with a smirk. "Let's see what happens now."

With that, he turned to their audience where the Roach stood in the crowd. Jude was so caught up in the pandemonium of the recent events that she didn't notice him.

"Find Grimsen," Cardan said, a command loud enough for all to hear. "I need him to make my wife a new crown."

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

The night went quickly after that. The dancing and drinking resumed full swing, the Court seemed well fed off the drama that ensued earlier, and there was even a sense of excitement and celebration in the air. Some Folk even came to give their congratulations to Jude and Cardan, to which Jude took each eerie word spoken to her with caution. They retired to Cardan's rooms soon as it was deemed appropriate, and, for the first time since she had returned, promptly fell asleep without any activities beforehand.

---------

The following weeks were tedious and exhausting. Except for when she accompanied Cardan throughout the day as he signed paperwork and had various meetings, Jude roamed the palace without much to do. She missed the responsibilities of a monarch that she had some months ago. It was quite annoying not officially having a say in things yet. She had, in a sense, her power back, but this time it was public, and she had to bide her time.

So she did, and in the meantime, she had the chance to pay close attention to Cardan.

It was remarkable to see just how much he grew into his role as the High King in just a few months. When she left Elfhame, he was just beginning to hold himself as a true ruler. Now, Jude saw personally that he was born for the title of King.

As Jude slowly integrated herself back into to happenings of the palace, she was also involved in meetings to plan her upcoming coronation. First, there were talks with Grimsen about her crown, and what magic it would hold. Then there was a discussion, albeit short, of what her official title would be. The Council argued with Cardan that he should make her Queen Consort, which sent Jude's nerves spiraling throughout her body, but Cardan viciously crushed that idea immediately.

She is to rule beside me, and her power shall equal mine.

And that was that. She was to be the High Queen of Elfhame through and through.

Jude decided it best that she wait to speak with Madoc until after her coronation.

Plans upon plans were made to ensure extra protection for Jude's ceremony.

She sent a messenger to Vivi, inviting her and Oak to witness her crowning. They arrived the week before. Jude didn’t see why it was necessary for them to arrive so soon, but she was secretly glad because she missed them and they kept her busy.

She caught up with the Bomb and the Roach, and marveled at how much they built up the Court of Shadows in her absence. There were at least twenty new recruits, some of them human.

She spent time with Cardan, which at first was an utterly strange concept in her head. She could never have pictured it happening, but she soon realized that they can simply enjoy each other doing normal things. Jude grasped and held tightly to each memory of them walking and talking in the palace gardens and gazing at the stars while Cardan wrongly interpreted them, which she knew was entirely on purpose. She knows they're both quite terrible at being vulnerable, but they’ve been working on it together, and occasionally making each other laugh along the way.

It was all going smoothly, despite a few bumps in the road, but to Jude this was a problem. She was used to extreme turbulence, not easy, calm waters without much to do. So, her time since she returned—though partially wonderful—has done nothing but slowly set her on edge. She has felt so much built up anticipation that she couldn't bear to sleep for two days before the eve of her coronation. Cardan, in turn, has been on edge as well, though he flitted from being tense to his usual dramatic antics. It just added fuel to Jude’s disquiet.

The night before she was supposed to be crowned, Jude sought out Vivi to ask her a favor. An hour later, around midnight, she was back in the mortal world for some sense of peace and quiet. Instead, she got the sound of a storm, which lulled her anxieties more than silence ever could. It turns out she is still practiced in finding comfort in chaos.

---------

Jude slept at the window until late afternoon in the mortal world. By the time her eyes open, the rain has ceased and the sky is clear. She knows it's early in Faerie, but she decides her time is up here, so she stands and folds her bed back into the sofa, picks up a few strewn items, and leaves with the apartment door locked.

She's back in Elfhame before the sun dips behind the horizon, the doors to the High King’s chambers closing behind her, and Cardan is there waiting. He knew where she was going, she told him before she left, and she feels somewhat settled knowing he was anticipating her return. The sight of him sitting at the end of his bed, hands clasped in his lap, brow furrowed, eyes showing relief as they find her form, causes Jude’s heart to lurch in her chest.

He’s worried. About me.

For some reason, Jude has the sudden urge to cry.

She doesn’t, though. She takes a step forward. Then another. And she’s across the room in seconds, standing before him as he rises to meet her. They’ve gotten better at casual affection and seeking one another’s comfort, but it still doesn’t come easy, so there is a moment of hesitation from Jude and she takes a shaky breath, muddled thoughts clogging her mind that she still can’t shake in moments like these.

Don’t do it, you’ll be giving in.

He doesn’t want this with you.

You can’t trust him.

Turn around and leave.

Hurt him.

But then she sees worry flicker across his features, as his hands twitch where they rest, careful and unthreatening at his sides, and Jude feels guilty. She understands she is an idiot for letting her mind push those thoughts to her attention even now, when they have been learning to prove themselves to one another. She feels tears prick behind her eyes. Maybe she will cry after all.

Now, all she knows is that she has never wanted to be held so badly as she does in this moment. Without letting herself think any longer, she steps into him and wraps her arms around his waist. As soon as she’s against him he reciprocates, embracing her and dipping his face into her neck. In an instant, all the tension leaves Jude’s body. She sags against him, eyelids drooping, muscles loose. She presses her cheek into his shoulder. She never thought something like this could feel so nice.

It’s some time before he scoops her up and onto the bed. They lay pressed against one another, her back to his chest, her knees curled up, his arms cradling her to him, his breath tickling her neck.

“For a moment, I considered you might run,” He murmurs. Something about this makes Jude’s throat tighten.

He thought I’d leave him. That I’d be too scared.

She wants to say she isn’t afraid; that she’s ready for this and that she knows what she’s doing.

But she doesn’t want to lie to him right now.

“Would you let me?” She asks instead.

With the arm he has draped over and around her, he begins tracing patterns delicately on her chest with his long fingers.

“Yes,” He whispers. “If you wanted a life free of chaos and of me, I would let you go. I would do anything so long as you are safe and happy.”

She breathes this in, lets in settle in her. Her eyes close and she stops him making patterns on her skin by bringing a hand up and lacing their fingers together. Jude never thought she would have this: The experience of sharing oneself with another, of living to see that person smile, of someone caring as deeply for her as she does them, of feeling… whole when near them. She wants to say a thousand things to him, but they’re a thousand things she isn’t ready for.

She does say, “I don’t want to leave.” Her tongue feels heavy and her jaw awkward, like she didn’t speak correctly. It’s such a simple thing to say but she feels as if she’s baring her soul for all of Elfhame to see. “I…” She starts, then starts again. Cardan waits, silent. Jude stares at their clasped hands lying together on the coverlets before her, and as she works up her courage, she unlaces them and cautiously runs her fingers over the bones of his wrist and the lines of his palm. She thinks it is probably silly, like something a little girl would do, but Cardan does not give any complaint as she plays with his hand.

“I never want to leave you,” She says, voice barely above a whisper. It is both a relief and an accomplishment. She waits for him to respond, but he doesn’t say anything, just turns her in his arms so they can face one another. When she looks at him, all of her breath leaves her body like she’s been punched in the gut. Cardan has given her many looks since they’ve known each other: looks of anger or indifference, lustful gazes, loving glances, but never has he looked at her the way he is now. Like she is so precious to him that she might break. His eyes are soft. He’s smiling, just barely, but it is a small smile that’s reserved for her.

Jude gives him a matching smile back.

As the palace wakes up, Jude is brought to an unused set of rooms near Cardan's. According to the schedule, they are both to get ready separately, and she will be crowned by him when the moon reaches its zenith. She tries not to think too much about it.

Time passes in waves. Her hair is fixed into an intricate updo with strands framing her face and curling around her cheeks. Her nails are shaped to look pointed and painted black. She wears no jewelry, but her face is painted to smooth out the dark circles under her eyes and make her cheeks glow. Kohl is smudged into alluring shapes around her eyelids, and her lashes have thick substance spread on them to make them longer. Gold adorns her lips in the form of a sheer, sticky liquid that makes her mouth shine at certain angles.

Her coronation gown, which has been kept a mystery to her as much as her crown, is brought to her room as fine flakes of gold are applied to her cheekbones. When she has the chance, she approaches the massive pile of fabric for a better look. This gown seems the exact opposite of the one she wore to the feast some weeks ago.

It is not her at all.

The dress looks like pure magic. It is layers upon layers of gold spider silk and black tulle, with gold leaves spread across the back and around the front, vines of sunset wrapping around the sleeves and twisting off into the air. When Jude gets close enough, she sees that tiny pieces of orange garnet set in gold make up the bodice and are littered about in the black train, which must be close to ten feet in length and covered in leaves as well. She spots a pattern in there as well, and when she looks closer she sees the Greenbriar crest made entirely of jewels encrusted near the end of it.

That’s quite a statement.

Jude thinks this dress looks like the sun, and that it will weigh more than she does.

She's almost right. A team of people arrive to help her into the gown, and it is extraordinarily heavy, but not as much as she thought. Jude couldn't tell before, but the leaves making up the wide, boat neckline swoop with the sleeves, leaving her shoulders bare save the vines curling off of the fabric. The same sticky liquid on her lips and flakes of gold are applied to her collarbones and shoulders before she is allowed to see herself in a grand mirror on the wall.

When Jude catches her eyes in her reflection, she doesn't recognize herself.

At first glance, she thinks she's looking at Taryn, because her face is glowing naturally and her eyes are bright and glittery, save for the sultry smudges. There is a dewy finish to her skin, and the gold on her lips and body looks positively striking. The dress fits her perfectly and accentuates the curve of her hips, but the swell of her breasts disappear in the mix of leaves and gems. She looks—

Magnificent. And terrifying. The cosmetics and gown makes her look hauntingly beautiful, like autumn incarnate, a startling mixture of faerie and human.

Like a queen.

So, no, the dress is not her. But perhaps it is who she is meant to be.

Her entourage helps her into some simple leather slippers—for which she is thankful, because the dress is hard enough to walk in as it is—and leave her to her own devices.

Jude loses track of the amount of time she has spent standing in front of the mirror, but it's long enough that her carefully placed boxes of thoughts start to spill over in her head.

This is really happening.

The mere thought of being crowned High Queen of Elfhame makes her want to lock herself in a room and never come out, and she can't make sense as to why. Is this not what she has worked for her entire life? A place among the Folk, all the power she could ever want, and being, in a sense, better than them.

It's too much.

But she's done it before. She has been the queen behind the puppet king. She has juggled the responsibilities, the poison and schemes, the games with Cardan. Why is this so frightening?

Because it's real, now. A voice says in the back of her mind. You were in the shadows before, playing pretend. This time It's all on you.

Jude's breath hitches.

It's true. It's all different, this time around. She gets her own crown, her own throne, her own power, and she gets to share it with Cardan.

Cardan, though the moment they shared earlier was special and incredible progress, is another thing she's reluctantly filed away in her mind, because he is so different from how he used to be.

Sure, they still hurl insults at each other more often than not, and they still bicker, they're still them, but there’s that something between them, delicate and tender, that’s been there ever since the night she returned. Cardan showers her in compliments when they're alone. He worships her body, tugs playfully on her hair, and traces the shape of her ear while she falls asleep.

Cardan has been a dream, and Jude has been frightened that she will wake up from him, so she has kept a minuscule part of her heart guarded still, even though she knows that they are in this together and sincerely. It is painfully hard for her to be candid about what she feels with him.

And she shouldn’t doubt, but some toxic part of her mind has led her there.

She has doubted them, and herself, and she feels crushing guilt because of it. What Nicasia said the night of the feast brought back every insecurity she felt and insult thrown at her since she was a child, though she tried not to admit it. She is still terrified of the monsters she grew up with. She is terrified of her own mortality. Terrified of not being in control. And now, terrified of losing Cardan.

It’s funny, in a way. If only she could tell her younger self just how important that absolute brat of a boy would become to her. She’d love to see the reaction.

Staring at her own reflection, she steels herself and decides that from this day on, she will be different. She won't let herself lock the thought of them, or of him staying with her, away anymore. She wants every day to be like it was earlier. Just them being honest with one another and holding each other. Them together. Yes, she will embrace herself and her feelings and what she will become.

She is powerful. Cunning. Ambitious. Stronger than most everyone she knows.

A queen, and rightfully so.

There is a knock on the door from across the room behind her. Vivi enters. Jude's gaze stays locked with her own reflection..

"God," Vivi says. "You really look amazing, Jude."

Jude meets her sister’s eyes through the mirror.

"Is it time?" She's glad her own voice sounds mostly put together. It's not how she feels.

Vivi just nods.

Jude turns and strides out of the room, her train as heavy as everything she's felt since she was seven years old.

---------

Vivi leaves her surrounded by guards to take her place in the crowd some distance away from her current destination. She is supposed to begin her procession at an eastern exit to the palace grounds. Her coronation will take place outside under the full moon, and the grounds have been completely transformed—with the help of the High King—so that as many Folk could come as possible. It is riskier than being inside the palace, but it is a risk they are willing to take.

It is a special thing, the crowning of a queen. I want the entire world to see you.

Jude stands where she is told to, exactly where she rehearsed two days prior. Hundreds upon hundreds of bodies line as far as her eyes can see. The sheer mass of creatures that gathered for her procession and crowning sends her stomach swooping.

She takes a deep breath, and she can hear the tiny gems and gold leaves on her gown clinking together as she shifts.

Her job is this: Walk through the crowd, ascend the dais, respond to the ceremonial words Cardan says to her, and wait for him to place her new crown on her head.

It's simple, except she's sort of freaking out.

Another deep breath. And another.

She clenches her fists. Two attendants appear behind her to fix her train in place, fanning it out. Knights flank her sides some paces behind her.

Just breathe.

Before she has the chance to feel prepared, magnificent music plays somewhere in the distance, but the instruments must be enchanted because it sounds like they are in a grand chamber.

The knights lining each foot of her processional pathway stand straighter.

Jude knows it's time to walk.

One foot in front of the other. Just make it to him.

She steps into an old habit and lets a mask fall over her features.

She walks.

The extent at which the grounds were remodeled is much more than she expected. Small hills have risen from the land to allow a vantage place for more eyes to see her. Wiry branches sprout from large white trees spread throughout the crowd and near her path. Lanterns harboring bright orange fire hang from them, and some places she can't make out. They glow like stars, and would provide enough light to properly let her see even if the full moon did not.

Jude was wrong about the hundreds of attendees. There are thousands here. She squares her shoulders and keeps her chin held high.

It really is like the entire world can see me.

Jude sees a strange, radiant light coming from the armor of the knights that she passes, and she realizes that it's from her. The firelight hitting her gown is causing her to glow.

She must look like a deity.

Let them see what I have become.

The flowers beneath her feet bend away from her as she passes over them. Finally, she sees the dais in the distance. Stone steps have been laid into a new hill that stands higher than the rest. Torches line the stairway and light the area at the top, where she can see Cardan beneath another white tree, bigger and more glorious than the rest. She can't see his face from this distance, but she knows he is watching her with all the rest.

A few times, she glances to the crowd around her. She sees a mixture of emotions across different faces: there is anger, yes, but surprisingly more envy and excitement.

Maybe they won't accept me. They will just need to learn how to live with the knowledge that I bested them all.

She's yards from the stairway before she even realizes, but before she rises, she looks to her left.

There is her family.

Oak, who looks mesmerized. He's beaming at her.

Vivi, who looks incredibly proud, smirks.

Oriana is there by Oak, and Madoc stands beside her with no weapons, Jude notices. This was a requirement for the ceremony, a safety measure. Guests must turn in all weapons and jewelry, along with anything in pockets before they arrived.

His face is unreadable. Jude channels all of her feelings of triumph and victory into the smile she gives him.

As she reaches the first step, she sees Taryn as well. On her face is the most confusing expression she sees that night. Taryn looks, quite simply, ferociously jealous of Jude, but she seems to be genuinely smiling at her as well.

There is no time to dwell on it.

Jude looks to the top of the dais, and thinks of nothing but who is waiting for her up there.

Make it to him.

Her dress fans over the stairs as she climbs, the crest on the train glittering. Step by step, Cardan's face comes into view. In a far-off thought, Jude notices that his clothes match hers, but they’re less lavish. They are black and gold, with a sparse number of leaves and gemstones spread about them, but with much more embroidery than her gown. The crown on his head looks like it’s fluctuating in the firelight.

Jude’s breath hitches at the sight of him. She will never get used to his otherwordly beauty.

Cardan stares at her with such intensity that she feels the need to look away. She doesn’t, though. She gazes right back.

Like earlier in bed, he smiles, small and just for her, as he extends his hand to her. When their fingers touch, it feels like lightning. Surely there are embers in the air, sizzling on her skin at this moment. Surely this is a dream.

Cardan leads her to where there are two matching thrones, each made of twisted, creamy white branches and solid gold, and a small, stone pillar stands to the side, holding up her crown. She does not take her eyes off of his until the moment she’s required to.

There, during the night of the full moon, on the transformed palace grounds, Jude Duarte, daughter of clay, was crowned High Queen of Elfhame. The stars in the clear skies and the lanterns around her make her form luminous as she kneels at her husband’s feet, facing the crowd. The layers of her gown and sleeves spill around her in pools of autumn and midnight.

Her crown was made of pale gold, and the slender circlet twisted around and down onto the top of her forehead. Small stars of diamonds and moonstone spike up into the air at points around it. It had been forged by Grimsen himself, and with it came special properties. Jude told Cardan there was no need for anything other than an ordinary crown, but he bargained with and bribed Grimsen instead. She does not yet know the full extent of what magic she is supposed to feel when it is placed on her head.

Jude stares at her radiating sleeves until Cardan has the crown in hand and stands above her.

She knows what happens next is more formal than usual by Faerie standards, but the occasion, plus the element of her being human, calls for it, according to the Council.

Nevertheless, she braces herself for what feels like the hundredth time that day, and waits.

When Cardan speaks, his voice carries through the crowd unnaturally with magic. He speaks royally, yet softly. She knows this is for her sake.

“With this crown, you take up the mantle of protector of the realm,” Cardan says, holding the circlet to hover over her head. Jude’s eyes go to the distant horizon. “Do you swear to defend the creatures of Faerie from those who would harm them and govern them according to the principles on which Elfhame was founded?”

“I swear,” Jude says. She doesn’t know whether or not anyone can hear her, but there’s no chance to think on it because Cardan continues.

“Do you swear absolutely to maintain and defend the realm in all of your deeds?” Still, his voice is soft.

“I swear,” She repeats.

“Do you swear to employ all means at your disposal to preserve and promote the prosperity of the Folk and of the land,” He pauses here, taking a small breath, then begins again, his tone almost bordering wistful. “From this day until your last day?”

A breeze rolls past her. The tree above her shifts in the wind like a song.

When the wind whispers, listen closely. It is trying to tell you something.

Just for a single moment, Jude’s eyes fill with tears. She thinks of her mother’s voice.

I know you’re with me, Mom.

Jude inhales, and blinks her tears back.

“I swear, from this day until my last day.”

Cardan’s voice changes, now. He speaks with complete satisfaction and pride.

“Long live Her Grace, Jude Duarte, High Queen of Elfhame, first of her name and protector of the realm.”

He places the crown on her head, and Jude’s world erupts.

It is the feeling of acid simmering like mist through her bones, like each of her atoms are being split apart and zapped back together simultaneously. Then everything stretches.

She hears herself gasp, but she can't focus on anything except the fact that her senses have been extended for miles.

If she were watching from the crowd, she would be able to see the air and light shifting around her, the branches of the tree reaching towards her.

Grimsen said her crown would be connected to Cardan's, but she didn't understand until now what he meant, or that he meant this.

She can feel the land beating beneath her, and the space occupied by each and every creature in the crowd. She feels the magic in the air more than ever, and the pulse of it through the wild. She feels Cardan beside her, like a beacon drawing her in.

This must be what Cardan feels all the time.

She realizes she's had her eyes closed, but comes back to herself when Cardan's hand brushes her bare shoulder. When she finds the strength to stand, it is with her hand in Cardan’s, and together they face their audience. For the first time since ascending the dais, she looks out to the crowd.

Her stomach flips. The Folk before her span like a sea, their faces indistinguishable. Her eyes rove the expanse of them, and the mass of them gathered on hills. Some of them judge her. Some hate her. Some envy her. Few admire her. But each and every one of them have come to see her, the human Queen of Faerie.

She sees the land before her, feels Cardan’s power pulsing through it.

This. This is hers.

Flowers bloom and glow in the moonlight. Red vines sprout and curl down from the white trees. The colors of the fire grow hazy, then more vibrant. The very air seems ready to dance.

It’s as if the land itself has accepted her as its own.

Only then, with one enormous voice, do their subjects speak back to them both with awe and fear and hunger.

“Long live High Queen Jude!”

And row by row, they all bow before the High King and Queen.

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mcheang · 3 years

Text

Volpina vs Old Lady

Anybody recognize her? 😂

After a disappointing vacation to Africa, Nana decided to visit Paris instead. There were less bad kitties there.

Plagg suddenly sneezed. Adrien felt a chill down his spine and raised the aircon temperature.

Nana liked Paris. The culture and friendly Parisians were charming, she was even getting addicted to the goodies at the Dupain-Cheng patisserie. She decided to visit there every day to try a new treat.

Marinette was such a darling girl that she even gave Nana a homemade Christmas present for being such a regular customer.

The only thing annoying Nana were the frequent akumas and that bad black kitty.

Not that the akumas ever attacked her. They just disrupted her holiday itinerary. And she is not impressed by a flirty kitty distracting a serious heroine.

One day, nearing Christmas, Nana had just neared the patisserie to give Marinette one of her handmade scarves. They both love to bond about the joys of knitting. When she saw a girl in ugly orange play a flute, before suddenly turning into Marinette, but with an evil smile.

Ugh. Another akuma. But this one trying to frame Marinette? Unacceptable.

As Volpina started wrecking the bakery (the real Marinette was outside giving gifts to the homeless and orphanages), Nana suddenly came in and said, “Bad akuma!”

To Volpina’s surprise, the little old lady whacked her in the head with a surprisingly heavy purse, breaking her illusion in a puff of orange smoke.

Nana: framing a sweet girl on Christmas Eve? Unforgivable! Take that! And that!

Basically Nana gives Volpina a major beat down.

Tom: Nana, stop, she’s just a girl!

Nana: she’s an akuma with a magical suit.

Tom: true...but still...

Nana: she framed your daughter

Tom: she’s not worth it

Nana: she still deserves a good smack. In my day, we would have used a cane.

I think a cane would be preferable to her purse...

Volpina: Hawkmoth, help!

The akuma left Lila alone. Nana had to stop now. But Lila was still bruised without a miraculous cure.

Lila: what is wrong with you? How could you hurt me?

Nana: how could you frame Marinette? Such a sweet girl, giving gifts to the poor.

Lila: she’s a bully

Nana: ha! As if! I know bullies, and Marinette is definitely not one. You seem like the type.

Lila: I am not! I help Prince Ali with his charities.

Nana: never heard of him. But if you yourself claim to be innocent, why the desire for revenge, huh?

Lila: it was Hawkmoth!

Nana: he only persuades you to do what you already want to do!

Lila: no, I-

Nana smacked Lila on the face again. “And that’s for still trying to frame Marinette on Christmas Eve!”

Lila burst into tears and ran away, terrified of the old lady. It’s not like she can turn people on an elderly lady...especially when they also seem either awed or petrified of her.

Hawkmoth felt Volpina’s pain and wondered what would happen if he akumatized the old lady...maybe another day...he called back his akuma.

Nathalie looked up when Gabriel left his lair. “No new akuma? What happened to Miss Rossi’s petty jealous tantrum?”

Gabriel: she got beat up by an old lady

Nathalie: I wish I could have seen it

Gabriel: I’m pretty sure I saw a customer filming it.

Nathalie: do you think Lila’s resulting embarrassment will be worth an akuma?

Gabriel:...you just want to watch her get beat up again, don’t you?

Nathalie: I’m the one who has to spend more time with her at photoshoots. The brat is insufferable and exhausting. And she never shuts up! If she’s not bragging, she’s whining.

Gabriel: mmm....consider it an extra Christmas present then.

True to form, the video of Nana beating up Volpina before calling out Lila for wanting to frame Marinette got a million hits within ten minutes. Lila’s accusations about Marinette being a bully are in direct contrast to her public actions giving free presents and food. Nana’s remark about how Hawkmoth only encouraged her inner desires also struck home. Lila wanted to hurt Marinette. If she were really a victim, she would want justice/revenge and truth, not framework. That’s not how previous bullied-victims-turned-akumas had done. Stoneheart and Evillustrator sought revenge, not framing. Lady Wifi and Silencer sought truth.

Confronted by all the negative comments, Lila is transformed back into Volpina to frame Nana as a wacko old lady.

She returns to the patisserie with her new disguise and wrecks the shop, insulting Marinette’s family in the process.

Marinette correctly suspects this is a vengeful Volpina rather than the real Nana, who mentioned she would be on a museum tour.

Nana learns of the imposter and asks her fellow tour groupées to help clear her name. They all post her true whereabouts and declare her innocence.

Chat Noir is alarmed at this and runs to the museum to protect Nana because obviously Volpina will be after her.

To everyone’s surprise, Nana is not welcoming towards the hero offering her a lift to safety. Instead he is the next one to receive a purse in the face.

Nana: bad kitty! Didn’t your parents teach you to treat your elders with respect? Learn to ask for permission before carrying me around like a bride across the city! And you think an old lady can’t take care of herself? Give us more credit! Don’t assume we are all fragile and vulnerable. I can take care of myself!

Ladybug arrives.

Ladybug: Nana! Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright. Um...why are you hitting Chat Noir with a ruler?

Nana: this bad kitty needs to learn manners.

Ladybug: Chat, say you’re sorry. But Nana, we can’t ask you to fight in this battle for us. It’s our job to take care of you. Which is a shame because you are really good at kicking akuma butt.

Nana patted Ladybug’s cheek. “Such a sweet girl. Don’t worry. I can check out the gift store and hide in there. But that faker will probably find me there. Why not use me as bait?”

Rena shows up. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Rena plays her flute and transforms into Nana.

Nana hummed, eyeing her doppleganger. “Not bad.”

Volpina does show up, intent on proving she can take on an old lady. Come on, she has agility, she should have some strength too.

Only Nana turns out to be an angry Rena.

When Lila is deakumatized, both Rena and Nana tear into her for lying and framing an old lady. And yes, the matter is clear that Lila and Ladybug are not best friends at all.

There are videos of this, of course. And some commenters join the cause to unravel Lila’s outrageous lies, helpfully told by their classmates.

It is enough to gather the attention of the embassy. Mrs Rossi is ashamed of her daughter and agrees to send her back home because clearly she will be very negative in this city for a while now.

Not that home is any better since her videos have gone viral all around the world.

Lila is sentenced to homeschooling where she is safe. But to prevent her from learning of her own infamy, all electronics are confiscated. Lila herself knows any dreams of fame and riches are now dashed unless she wants to turn to crime.

She will have to undergo a major physical transformation and get a new name if she wants to re-enter society....after she is cleared by her psychiatrist that is...

Back in Paris, Chat wonders why the old lady seems to hate him. Then he finds a news article about her beating up a lion.

Plagg: she hates cats in general. Lucky us.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #Lila bashing #Lila salt #Lila is exposed #ml salt fic #Lila gets exposed #Nathalie hates Lila #poor Chat #Chat Noir bashing

784 notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter seven rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Peter walked to campus that day with an extra bounce in his step. He couldn’t keep himself from leaping over the school gate, not caring who could’ve seen. He was in love. He walked past Flash with confidence, easily brushing off his backhanded comments. He walked up to Ned and felt oddly compelled to click his heels. Ned noticed the ecstatic expression on his best friends face and smirked.

“What’s got you so happy? Did a certain wall crawling superhero finally beat Venom in a fight?” He asked. Peter shook his head.

“Not yet. Something even better happened.” Peter said proudly.

“And what might that be?” Ned wondered. Peter could barely keep himself from screaming.

“Y/n kissed me.” He exclaimed. He got a few strange looks from passing students on their way to class, but Peter didn’t care. Nothing could ruin his mood.

“What? When? ” Ned gasped.

“This morning. She slept over last night after she had a nightmare. And guess what else?” Peter asked. Ned bounced up and down.

“What? Tell me!” Ned demanded. Peter looked around for who could be listening and smirked.

“She slept in my bed.” He smirked.

“Oh.” Ned said looked disappointed in the anticlimactic finish.

“With me in it.” Peter added and Ned looked amazed. His jaw hung open and he began to bounce up and down again.

“Dude that’s like the greatest thing ever.” Ned cheered. “She’s so hot! We have to tell everyone.”

“We’re not telling anyone just yet.” He shook his head. “She’s only been my girlfriend for a few hours. She’s really special to me, Ned. I don’t want to treat her like shes some prize I won by telling everyone. Girls are worth more than that.”

“Amen to that. What are you losers talking about anyway?” MJ said as she approached them. She was eating trail mix and looked extremely bored already.

“Peter has a girlfriend.” Ned blurted. Peter shot him an angry look while MJ looked impressed.

“Oh really? Who is she, your right hand?” MJ smirked. Ned looked confused while Peters face went red.

“It’s not my right hand. She lives in my building and she’s an angel. That’s all you need to know.” Peter grumbled, still annoyed that Ned spilled his secret. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you, the exact opposite actually. He would shout it from the rooftops that you were together if he could. He just didn’t want everyone to know. You had only kissed that morning and Peter still wanted to keep the magical details to himself.

“Does this angel have a name?” MJ questioned, actually interested in something for once.

“No.” Peter said at the same time Ned said “Y/n L/n.”

“Y/n L/n from The L/n Report?” MJ was suddenly invested. It was the first time Peter or Ned heard emotion in her voice.

“You know her?” Peter asked.

“Duh.” MJ scoffed. “She’s the only investigative reporter I’ve seen who actually cares about the people she reports on. I read her articles all the time. We have a lot of the same opinions. I used to think she was the coolest girl ever.”

“Used to think?” Ned asked.

“Well clearly something’s wrong with her if she’s dating Peter.” MJ said flatly. Ned laughed and Peter looked at her angrily.

“There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s amazing.” Peter defended.

“I know she is.” MJ shrugged. “I’ve idealized that girl for year. Did you guy see what she did to Carlton Drake?” Peter nodded and smiled proudly at the thought of his girl kicking names and taking ass.

“She’s like my hero. She’s done so much for the homeless back in San Francisco. I was so excited when she said she was moving to New York to work for The Daily Bugle.” MJ gushed. Peter and Ned looked at each other, visibly confused.

“Have you always done that?” Ned asked her.

“Done what?” MJ asked.

“Felt things?” Ned said and MJ rolled her eyes.

“I feel very passionate about a lot of things. Those things just don’t happen to include you two or anyone else in this school. However, I am very passionate about your girlfriend.” MJ stated. She suddenly looked a little uncomfortable and unsure of herself, two things MJ never did. She awkwardly turned to Peter.

“Do you think I could meet her? I’d really love to talk to her about her article on fracking.” MJ asked slowly. She wasn’t used to asking people for things. Peters eyes softened at this new side of MJ.

“She’s picking me up after class today on her motorcycle. You can meet her then.” Peter offered. Then MJ did something very out of character.

She smiled.

“K thanks.” She blurted and then swiftly left. Ned and Peter laughed as she walked away.

“That was new.” Ned commented.

“Yes It was.” Peter agreed.

“She’s so odd.” Ned added.

“Yes, she is.”

“Did you do the hanky panky with Y/n?” Ned asked. Peter snapped his head towards Ned.

“What?” Peter flushed red. “No. And never say ‘hanky panky’ again.”

“It was worth asking. See you in orgo.” Ned said before walking towards his class. Peter shook his head in amusement before heading to his first class of the day.

At 3:30, you pulled up to Peters college on your motorcycle. You took off your helmet, shook your hair out, and scanned the crowd for Peter. You soon saw him, Ned following shortly behind him, and a girl you had never seen before. She wasn’t wearing makeup, which you gave her props for, and had her curly hair tied back in a pony tail. She was undeniably pretty and had a very cool vibe to her.

“Hi beautiful.” Peter said when he reached you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tightly. “It’s torture not being with you all day.”

“I know. But the school year is almost over right? Then we can spend every second together.” You promised. Peter smiled happily. He leaned in slightly, as if asking for your permission, and you did the same. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He smiled into the kiss and held you closer. This time, there were no interruptions.

“Y/n, I’d like you to meet MJ. MJ, this is Y/n.” Peter said, gesturing to the girl. MJ smiled shyly at you and held out her hand.

“It’s really cool to meet you, Y/n. Your article on greenhouse gases is hanging on my wall. I’m uh, I’m a big fan.” She said timidly.

“You’re a fan? That’s amazing.” You smiled brightly at her. “I’ve never met a fan before. It’s really cool to meet you too, MJ. And if you’re interested in the environment, I have a bunch of scientists numbers I can give you. I had to interview a bunch back in San Francisco to write that article. They gave me some great tips on how to reduce my carbon footprint.” MJ’s eyes widened just a little. She looked baffled and gave you a thankful smile. You noticed one of her front teeth was slightly askew and decided you liked her already.

“Really? That’d be so cool. Thanks.” She said. You squeezed her arm and nodded.

“I think you and I are going to get along just fine. Can I get your number? I’d love to hear more about what you’re interested in.” You handed MJ your phone and she took it. She typed her number it and handed it back.

“This has been really amazing. Thanks for being so cool. I have to run though. I’m running a protest outside of Oscorp.” She explained. “One of their employees got seriously electrocuted and they’re to cover it up.”

“Really?” You gasped. “Is it okay if I tag along? I’m kinda busy with my Cletus Kasady story but I would love to cover your protest too.”

“You’d do that for me?” She asked as if she wasn’t used to people doing things for her.

“Gladly. Can I join? I can give you a ride there.” You offered. She smiled at you and toyed with the strings on her backpack.

“That’d be great. See you losers later.” MJ gave Peter and Ned a peace sign and climbed onto your bike. You gave Peter a quick peck on the lips and got on the bike as well. Peter watched as MJ wrapped her arms around your waist and smirked at him. You two sped off towards Oscorp, leaving Peter and Ned in your wake.

“Dude.” Ned laughed. “MJ just stole your girlfriend.”

“Shut up. No she didn’t.” Peter said. Did she though? You seemed to hit it off with her pretty quickly. Peter didn’t know MJ too well but he knew she was guarded and didn’t let people in easily. In fact, she didn’t let anyone in. And yet, you and her had become best friends in a matter of minutes.

Heading back from Oscorp a few hours later, you saw a familiar hat bobbing up and down in the street. You were about to call out Neds name when two guys came from around the corner. They looked mean and you could hear Ned’s heartbeat rising. You quickly ran over to him.

“Hey.” You panted. Ned looked relived to see you.

“Oh hey Y/n. How’d your date with MJ go?” He teased. You shoved him slightly.

“It wasn’t a date. She’s really cool though. I think we’re going to be good friends.” You said as you passed the two guys. You soon heard a whistle.

“Damn baby. Where you going with him? Don’t you wanna stay here and have some fun?” one of the guys called. You looked at Ned and picked up your pace.

“I know you heard me beautiful. Stop running before I give you a reason to run.” The man said again, louder this time.

“Keep walking.” You whispered to Ned.

“I said stop running.” The man shouted, this time, his threat was accompanied by the sound of a gun cocking. You and Ned froze in your steps. The two men slowly approached you, all while pointing the gun level with your head.

“That’s better.” One man said when he reached you. “Now, how about this. You come with me, or I shoot your friend. Does that sound fair?”

“I better call Peter. He’ll know what to do.” Ned panicked.

“No need.” You growled as your transformed into Venom. You marched up to the guy and grabbed him by the shoulders in a death grip. You spit at a nearby newspaper in the ground. The newspaper quickly disintegrated and left nothing but smoke behind. You smiled devilishly at the man, grateful for a chance to show off your acidic saliva.

“What was that?” The man cowered in your grasp. Meanwhile, his friend ran away terrified.

“Acid spit. Still want me to come with you?” Venom purred. The man whimpered and shook his head furiously.

“Didn’t think so. Now, if you don’t tell us the names of ten historical feminists who would be very disappointed in your sorry ass by the time I count to ten, we’re going to eat you. Does that sound fair?” Venom growled as the man shut his eyes in fear.

“One.” You began to count.

“Uh…” He whimpered.

“Two.”

“Um.” He raked his minuscule brain for answered but came up empty handed.

“Ten.” You said and bit his head off. You quickly ate the rest of his body before turning back into yourself. You wiped your hands and patted your stomach before turning around and making eye contact with Ned, completely forgetting he was there.”

“You’re Venom?!” He gasped as he pointed at you in horror. You ran up to him and covered his mouth.

“What? No.” You lied. “How do you know about Venom anyway?”

“It’s you. I can’t believe it’s you.” Ned exclaimed when you took your hand off his mouth. You were getting more and more confused.

“You’re Venom. You, Y/n, are Venom.” He repeated as if it all made sense now.

“Play dumb.” Venom whispered.

“What? I’m not Venom. What makes you say that?” You stammered.

“Not that dumb!” She yelled. Ned looked at you and laughed, still in shock.

“You and Peter are perfect for each other, you know that? You’re both dumb as shit.” He laughed. You had to laugh a little as well.

“You’re Venom and Peter is…do you know about Peter?” Ned suddenly asked.

“What about Peter?” You didn’t understand what he meant. Neds eyes went wide, and then filled with sadness.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head. “Are you gonna tell him about this? Because I’m going to be very honest with you, I’m terrible at keeping secrets. I don’t know if I can keep this from him.”

“I’m gonna tell him eventually. So please, don’t say anything.” You pleaded. “He has to hear it from me. I’m sorry that I’m making you lie to your best friend but this is a very unique situation.”

“It’s a lot more unique than you think.” He muttered. “I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you.” You hugged him tightly, thankful that he was safe and keeping your secret. You walked Ned home and began to make your way back to the apartment building. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle with Peter and forget the day. After all, you missed him all day at school. It was bearable when you guys were just friends, but now that he was your boyfriend you never wanted to be apart.

When you were just a few blocks from your apartment, you felt a strong arm wrap around your neck and hold you in place. Suddenly, there was a knife to your throat.

“I saw what you did to my buddy, you little freak. Now, how about you get down on those pretty little knees before I kill you?” The man threatened. You turned your neck as much as you could and recognized your attacker as the mans friend who ran away from earlier. You sighed deeply. You were full and trying to keep your body count to a minimum, but he was just asking for it. You shut your eyes and were about to turn into Venom when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Now that’s no way to treat a lady.” The voice rang. You recognized it as Peters voice. The guy was quickly pulled away from you as if by some kind of rope. You heard some sort of webbing going on behind you and small cries of struggling from the man.

“Are you alright Miss?” Peter asked.

“I’m fine, Peter.” You said, finally turning around. Instead of seeing your boyfriend, you saw the friendly neighborhood pain in the ass. He had webbed your attacker to the wall and was now looking right at you. You had seen him so many times before, and he’d seen you, but never like this. You felt almost naked, standing before Spider-Man as Y/n instead of Venom.

“Oh.” You said, startled. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Yea. This is a pretty popular outfit.” Spider-Man joked, gesturing to his skin tight suit. You bit your tongue. He was funny, but you couldn’t let him know that. You were enemies after all. He just didn’t realize it was you.

“Thanks for saving me.” You blurted. “But I had the situation handled.”

“You’re right. You especially looked like you had it handled when he was about to stab and murder you.” Spider-Man said sarcastically. You found him oddly charming, despite your history.

“What are you gonna do with him?” You asked, pointing to the man webbed to the wall.

“I heard what he said to you. I’m going to register him as a sex offender and ruin his life. Unless, you had other plans. You know, since you had the situation handled.” Spiderman remarked. You playfully rolled your eyes. You did have other plans. Plans that involved eating him and digesting him while you cuddled with Peter. But Spider-Mans plan was okay too.

“Alright. I’ll see you around Spider-Man.” You said, giving the superhero one last look. There was something familiar about him. Spider-Man nodded.

“See you around. And please, be careful. Don’t walk alone. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He said and turned back to the man.

You went home, showered, and got into some comfy clothes. You missed your boyfriend dearly and went to his apartment to see him.

After being let in by May, you went into Peters room and flopped on his bed. He was sat at his desk doing homework.

“Did you mean what you said about me sleeping over whenever I wanted?” You asked, voice muffled by his pillow.

“Of course I did.” He swiveled around to look at you and noticed your body language. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’ve had a long day and I want to cuddle my boyfriend.” You pouted. Peter smiled at you calling him your boyfriend. He closed his textbook and climbed into bed with you. You rested your head on his chest, right over his heart. The sound of his heartbeat calmed you down and you felt sleepy.

“Did you make any progress on your story?” He asked. You shook your head as he began to run his fingers through your hair. You hummed in content and pressed a small kiss to his neck. He blushed at the affection and held you closer.

“No.” You groaned. “I’ve had the worst writers block all day. I was actually thinking of writing an article on Spider-Man until my writers block went away.”

After your encounter with the masked hero, you wanted to know more about him. You were originally against your boss’s idea to write about him, but now you liked it. Sure, there were plenty of articles on Spider-Man out there, but you knew him intimately.

“Spider-Man?” You felt Peters heart stop momentarily. “Why?”

“I think I have a pretty good shot at figuring out who he is.” You shrugged. “Like, think about it, he only operates from the hours of 4 to midnight ish right? Except, on weekends, when he’s seen all throughout the day. What’s he doing all day on weekdays? He can’t be at work because jobs don’t end that early. I think he’s in school. Either high school or college. Probably college though, right? I can’t imagine a high schooler doing what he does. Unless he’s been doing this since high school. That’s also possible.”

“Oh wow.” Peter said, dumbfounded. He was usually blown away by your intelligence, but now it was working against him. There were a million college students in New York, though. Surely you wouldn’t figure it out.

“And think about this, he’s only ever in New York, so he must live here right?” You continued. “But what about that one time he saved those kids in the Washington Monument? What was New York’s superhero doing in Washington? I looked into it and the kids he saved were on a field trip. What if Spider-Man was on the field trip too? If I look up all the schools that were there, I could create a list of suspects and go from there. Then, I could-“ you were cut off with a kiss.

“Let’s not talk about Spider-Man.” Peter said quickly, followed by a smile. “I want to hear about you day. How was Oscorp?”

“We had a really good time.” You smiled. “I interviewed her after I helped her with the protest and then we grabbed lunch. Oh, and I saw Ned on my way home.”

“You saw Ned?” Peter asked. Ned hadn’t mentioned seeing you.

“Yea.” You blew out a breath. “These two guys attacked us. One ran away and I took care of the other. But then the one that ran away came back and you’ll never guess who saved me.”

“Who?” Peter smiled. He knew who.

“Spider-Man. I don’t know. I was wrong about him. I used to think he was just some guy in spandex with a God complex but now I think he just genuinely wants to help people. And…” you trailed off.

“And?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“He’s got a nice ass.” You admitted. Peter laughed loudly. You smiled into his chest. You loved that damn laugh.

“I’m serious.” You insisted. “I saw it as he walked away and it knocked me out. Spider-Man is dummy thick.”

“Please never say the words “Spider-Man is dummy thick” in my house again.” Peter pleaded. He secretly loved it though.

“I was actually thinking of making that the title of my article.” You joked. Peter laughed again. He chucked a pillow at you and you giggled.

“Let’s go to bed.” You yawned. “In a romantic, but still non sexual way this time.”

“Good night, my Nancy Drew.” Peter said with a kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight, my whoever Nancy Drew was boning.” You yawed again.

“Ned Nickerson.” Peter laughed.

“Then goodnight Ned Nickelodeon.” You said, half asleep.

“Close enough.” Peter smiled.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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missdawnandherdusk · 3 years

Text

The Serpent Beneath

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Request: @daltonacademia Draco x Gryffindor reader and maybe like a faking dating type of situation? I am a sucker for the faking dating trope lmao. Maybe you could even spice it up by making it kind of an inside out version of enemies to lovers when they act lovey-dovey in public but in secret despise each other until they slowly get feelings??

A/n: Okay so this is part one because I’m evil, but part two will be up soon enough. Let me know what you think and I love you guys so much!

“Look, I’d love to go with you but...” I scrambled for an excuse. “But I’m dating someone already,” Yeah, that worked.

Harry wasn’t convinced. “Really?” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“Yes!” I said a bit too enthusiastically.

“Who?” He demanded.

“Uh,” then I saw him from across the room, coming in right in front of Snape, to his seat beside me. “Malfoy,”

“Malfoy!?” Harry’s eyes bulged. “Are you bloody joking!?”

“Oi, this isn’t your seat Potter,” Draco sulked, pushing past him. “Make a fool of yourself in front of Y/l/n on your own time,”

I gave a tense smile as Snape called the class to order. Slumping in my seat, I glanced nervously over at Draco. What in the world had I just done?

“What’s got Potter so off? You refuse to kiss his feet this morning?” Draco muttered toward the end of class that was filled with glares and offhand comments from Potter all the while.

“I might have told him we’re... dating,”

Draco stiffened beside me, sitting up ramrod straight. His hands clenched into fists as he sat there glaring at the front of the room. All things considered it could have been a worse reaction. He could be yelling or hexing me. Still his stoicism worried me.

As soon as class was dismissed, Draco remained seated, still rigid. His hand came to my wrist with a vice grip and I had no choice but to stay put. I tried to not let my nervousness leak into my facial features. Especially as Harry glanced back at us still sulking. I managed a smile.

When the room was clear, he let go of me and stood, shoving excess parchments and quills off the table.

“Are you absolutely daft!?” He shouted. I shrank back in my chair.

“I panicked okay!?” I bit back. “He asked me to the Yule Ball and chosen one or not I cannot stand him,”

Draco anger flitted to confusion before resting on something neutral.

“Ickle Gryffindor can’t stand Saint Potter?” A devious smirk was playing at his lips. “I thought it came with the territory,”

“Oh, you’re not a picnic either Malfoy,” I snapped. “Bloody Slytherins,”

“And yet you chose me,” He was toying with me now, as a cat cornered a mouse. “Is this admiration I see?”

“It was mistake,” I huffed grabbing my bag and standing. “Do you get off on making me miserable?”

He caught my arm as I went to leave. I shook him off. There was something mischievous in his eyes as he smiled at me. It left an unsettling pit in my stomach.

“Do you not want me to walk me to your next class?” His feigned innocence was a serpent waiting beneath a flower.

“Shove off Malfoy, I already have enough of a mess to fix. I don’t need this from you,”

“Well, the way I see it,” He grabbed his bag walking along side me. “Is that if you can’t stand Potter and the only way you’d think to get out of dating him is to ‘date’ me... and I’d love to see Potter knocked down a few pegs...” His smile curled into something wicked.

I stopped in my tracks and gaped at him.

“I’m not some toy you can fight over! And I don’t like you!” I exclaimed.

“But do you hate me enough that you won’t consider a fake relationship with me over whatever train wreck it would be with Potter?” Draco really scared me sometimes.

I worried my lip with his question and started to walk to my next class. He kept pace with me as we walked. His silence baffled me, allowing me to think clearly for the moment.

“Okay,” I muttered, pausing in an empty hall. “Deal,”

“Deal?” He seemed skeptical.

“Don’t get me wrong, I loathe you entirely, but... if you can get me out of having to date Potter or constantly turn him down... then deal,”

“Glad to be in business, darling,” Draco drawled, and I had to do everything not to cringe at the pet name. “See you after class?” He leaned in as if to kiss my cheek.

“Buy me dinner first, Malfoy,” I hissed, flinching away. “But... see you after class,” I achieved a small genuine smile.

McGonagall looked down on me as I entered class late and took my seat beside Hermione.

“Is it true?” She whispered urgently. “Are you dating Malfoy?”

I nodded, not taking my eyes off McGonagall as she lectured. It was uncharacteristic of Hermione that she spoke to me during class. She was normally keenly intent on learning the new material or getting ahead on things we haven’t covered yet. Now all she could do was gape at me before tearing her eyes away to McGonagall.

“How in the world can you date Malfoy?” She hissed as we left class, before freezing, seeing that Draco was waiting in the hall, leaned causally against the opposite wall. He pushed off of it and made his way over to me, offering his hand and glancing to my bag. I raised my eyebrow at him, and he offered a seemingly sincere smile. I passed my bag to him.

“I’ll see you later Hermione,” I smiled tensely.

She eyed us suspiciously but made her way down the hall in the direction of the library where she would spend her free time this afternoon, akin to every other afternoon.

“How was class?” Draco asked, leading me down the halls in a direction of no consequence to me.

“Fine,” I stammered out. “Just McGonagall. Hermione and I are already a few lessons ahead anyway.”

“You favor Transfiguration, then?” He mused, as if he were actually interested.

“Uh... I prefer Astrology, but that’s not really the use of magic is it? Just stories.” I shrugged and smiled. “What about you Malfoy? You’re a Potions protégé, is it your favorite?”

“Uh, yeah,” He didn’t seem too sure. I pointed it out. “Well, I never really thought about it. I have to be good at everything, so why favor one subject over another?”

I glanced up at him, confusion furrowing my brow slightly.

“What?” He demanded, snideness leaking into his tone. It brought me back to reality.

“How... Slytherin of you,” I noted with a teasing smirk. He rolled his eyes at this.

When we were out of earshot and eyesight of anyone and his demeanor changed fractionally, still giving way to a serpent under a flower. If I wasn’t careful, I would start to marvel at the miracle of the flower and overlook the threat that lurked beneath. His expression became somber and something more akin to what I was used to. A grimace. I missed the false smiles that lit up his eyes.

Flower. Serpent. Right.

“Do you really want to get dinner tonight?” His curt tone pushed me back a fraction.

“Oh... uh.” I wrapped my arms around myself in protection. “Sure?”

It was a weekday, meaning that we’d have to eat in the Great Hall and my stomach felt uneasy about sitting anywhere near other Slytherins. Fake dating Draco or not, they were malicious to any sort of outsider, especially a Gryffindor who was friends with Saint Potter.

“I’ll pick you up at seven outside your portrait.” He passed my bag back to me now that we were outside the aforementioned portrait.

“Okay,” I barely got out as he swept down the hall and down the stairs. I watched him go, leaning over the railing to see if there was some way to know the difference between the serpent and the flower, and which one was truly the act.

“Fraternizing with a Slytherin,” The Fat Lady scoffed. “You should be ashamed,” I bit my lip, giving the password and the portrait opened begrudgingly.

Should I be ashamed for the situation that I had found myself in? The easy answer was yes. I should. Not only was I fraternizing I was being courting by a Slytherin. Draco Malfoy was an egotistical arrogant bigot who I should avoid at all cost. Not be in a false relationship with. And for such selfish reasons too. I was using Draco, but on the same note, he was using me to get at Harry. We only cared for the other enough for what they could do in our favor.

It was a mess.

I ducked my head and flopped onto a sofa in the Common Room.

“Oi! What the bloody hell are you thinking!?” And there was the lecture I was expecting from Harry, and probably every other student on this campus, and myself. But this was Harry, an equally egotistical arrogant loudmouth, who I loved to hate just as much.

“I’m sorry,” I snapped sarcastically. “I didn’t know that you controlled who I dated or not.” My tone was acidic.

“But Malfoy!? Malfoy!?” Harry demanded. “It’s got to be a joke!” It was.

“Just because I rejected you doesn’t mean you’re allowed to call my relationship with someone else a joke!” I shouted drawing my wand. A small crowd had formed in the Common Room. I didn’t know who they would side with, but the odds weren’t in my favor, that much was sure.

part 2

masterlist

more like this:

gryffindor!reader series

ten things i hate about you

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howdoesagrapewrites · 3 years

Text

All yours, Babooshka.

Tags: Yelena x fem!reader, soulmate!au, fluff with a bit of angts, historically completely incorrect, happy ending.

TW: depiction of war, brief mention of sex, homophobic slur a few times, suicide.

Synopsis: War is no place for loving, it never was, but maybe you could love her again in the 21 Century, i mean, only if you could stop feeling so overwhelmed by her only existence, but no matter what, you can't stop something that's meant to be.

Notes: one, i don't like the part 4, it just feels lazy to me, and two, i'm not a native, so please tell me if i made a mistake <3

Part one: When she was beautiful.

Yelena Armanovna, as strong as ten soldiers, the jewel of the battlefield, once was just a kid, her land was destroyed by the war, and as the only child of the house, she was forced to join the army, or else die there, she became a soldier, and she desired that the war wasn't real, that she hadn't being born into this world, that no one had.

Everyone knew that she didn't talk a lot, most of their fellow soldiers didn't even knew where she came from, or if she was even from Russia, the only one she talked to was a nurse, her name was y/n y/ln, and like Yelena, no one knew about her origin, the nurse was way more talkative than Yelena, but she was assigned to other areas, staying with older soldiers, child soldiers, or severely injured soldiers, she was called by the child soldiers "angel", because of her comforting aura in hard times like those.

These women wouldn't be able to meet eachother if it wasn't for the near-death experience Yelena faced one time. She got shot by a hidden enemy, fainted from the blood loss and was taken to the nursery right away, they couldn't afford to lose her. That's when you saw the look in her eyes, that look, and you knew that death was upon the jewel of the battlefield, and you knew that if she died, everyone else will die, you tried as hard as you could to stay cool during the surgery, but you were breaking, because of all the hope that was layed on her shoulders, she was the hope of everyone else in that place to return home someday, even if Russia didn't won the war, her strenght will keep a few alive. So there you were, assisting the surgery of the one that could do something to keep everybody safe and triying to act like it didn't meant a thing. At the end, she survived, and with her, the dreams of returning to your home, you were the one assigned to take care of her, and you were going to make sure Yelena survived.

Part two: Uncanny how she remind her of her little lady.

—"¿Yelena Armanovna?" You asked to the blonde girl laying on the bed.

"Yes" she answered without taking her deep eyes out of the book.

You told her that it was your bed she was in, pointing at your last name on the post-it next to the bed, then showing her the same mark on the bed across the room where it said: "J. Armanovna".

"Ah, i hate when they misspeal it, it's Yelena with a "Y". Well, sorry, but this is the only bed i can sleep in, i'm kinda tall, you can use mine, i will give you a cookie for your kindness." She concluded with a little smile, you notices how her voice was way sweeter than you could think considering how menacing her looks were.

At the end you decided to let her keep the bed, thinking it wouldn't mean anything, how wrong you were, now you could look at her sleeping without moving from the bed, and you did it, you thought it was so creepy and you wanted to stop, but you couldn't, why? Why were you obsessed with the sight of her closed eyes and dry lips at night? Why did she gave you this insane feeling of comfort and loss at the same time? It was so uncanny.

No matter how weird It felt, you couldn't escape from Yelena, she was your roommate, and your classmate in some of your classes, on top of that, she was quite nice, a very smart lady with a pleasent personality, so you had no excuse to be mean or distant whenever she asked about your day, or started a small talk when the professor was late. Along with that sort-of friendship, you also knew Yelena's group; a beautiful girl with raven hair named Pieck, a blonde sarcastic man named Zeke, sometimes his brother Eren, and Hanji, a very excentric and funny person. These people were good friends to you, more than you expected, and that confirmed you: there was nothing wrong about Yelena, and you had no reason to be disturbed by her… Well, to be honest, there it was a little thing that made you upset, Pieck said that Yelena liked Zeke, again, you had no reason to be mad, but you were anyway. Why did you felt so attached to this lady? Why did you did what you did?

It was 2:00 am, you couldn't sleep and you were so ashamed of being doing what that thing, what thing? Writing a love letter, a love letter to Yelena, with a pseudonym, with the first word that popped into your head: "Babooshka". You put perfume on the paper, and you signed it under that name, a scented letter, when you were finished, you let the envelope under your bed, and let it on Yelena's locker.

Part three: How she was before the tears.

She woke up, feeling dazed and almost disappointed for being alive, when Yelena saw you, she recognized you for the stories of her colleagues, "Angel?" She guessed.

"Hello", you smiled and giggle a bit for that nickname, "My name is y/n y/ln, and i will take care of you until you are better"

"If i'm with you means i'm already dead, you only take care of the ones that are almost there." Yelena asserted with a careless attitude.

You wanted to protest, but it was meaningless, you wouldn't make her upset in her state, "May i ask how is your wound feeling? Are you in pain?" You kept that polite and sweet smile on your face.

You kept taking care of Yelena, she healed way too soon, her body wanted to stay alive, but you couldn't say the same thing about her. You got to meet the real jewel of the battlefield, she told you her story, and you told her yours, you two knew everything about eachother, likes, dislikes, and sad pasts. You noticed how Yelena cried softly whenever she thought about her life before, her life before the tears, before the war, when she felt happy. And you also noticed that you could erase that tears, the touch between your soft hands and her ser face, was something magical, something that nobody could understand in that moment, but you two? You knew everything about it, about that love touch, those secret beautiful instants you shared.

You were the one crying when Yelena got better, you were joyful for her recovery, but you knew that she had to go, and after that, you were going to lose her forever, or so you thought. "We can send eachother letters, and we can meet at night." She reassured you while you were laying on her chest, skin to skin, she kissed your forehead and caressed your cheeks with her strong and graceful hands, you purred at her cuddled your body in hers, you liked to kiss her scars, she had so many, it showed how determined she was on the battle and you liked that, the eyes and body of a soldier, and the heart of a suave lover, Yelena was always elegant, her movements could been rough and beastily, but she was soft and neat, whether i'll be fighting, talking, or embracing you. You could say with pride that only you knew this side of Yelena Armanovna, the subtle dominance she always established on her manner mixed with the chivalry and dulcet, that made the blonde woman truly enticing and amusing to anyone with enough luck to discover it.

You knew that your letters to Yelena couldn't be too suspicious, so you took advantage of the fact that no one knew a thing about her, "Babooshka", was the pseudonym you choose, because everyone was going to think that it was from Yelena's grandmother.

Your first letter to her, was this one:

"My dearest Yelena, even though i promised that i wouldn't miss you too much, you have been away for three days and i'm already feeling the lack of your touch, and missing your dark eyes that make me shiver every time. I always thought that i would die without having loved, but you prove me wrong, i love you, i love every part of you, if i could picture perfection, it would be you, your laugh, your hair, the way you talk about home, everything about you would fit the word "perfect".

I swear to God and every star on the sky, that someday i will marry you, someday i will call you my wife, and you will be fully mine, and i will be fully yours. I know that you may think i'm silly because of this wish, but i know in my guts that i will become your wife, no matter how many years or Centuries i have to wait to do it.

All yours, Babooshka."

When Yelena read the letter, she felt nothing but joy, she couldn't use words to describe how in love she was with everyone of your words, and giggled at the idea of marriage, of course she would marry you, she would marry you all the times that she could, she will make you hers every time, and she would submit herself to you every time.

The two lovers kept sending and receiving love letters, and meeting at the comfort and hacen of the night, with only starts and the moon herself as a witness, sharing the intimacy of loving, not always touching two bodies, but the touch of two souls, two tormented souls who found love in a hopeless place.

It has been almost a year since the letters and secret meetings started to happen, Yelena and y/n couldn't be more in love, but tragedy was upon them. A soldier named Floch, started to notice the letters, and one day, he intercepted one, the love words were obviously not from Yelena's grandmother, and with fear of the jewel of the battlefield getting courted by a man who could get her pregnant and useless, this soldier tried to trace the letters, he spend days getting up triying to catch the mailman, and when he did it, he noticed that there wasn't an adress, so it must have been another soldier. After waiting for the guilty one to put the letter on the mail box, he saw y/n y/ln, the nurse, the angel, being a witness of how Satán corrupted the two women into a sapphic relationship, he ran into his superior's arms, showing him the evidence and warning him that given the nature of the letters, he may be grossed out by the devil's pervertion in the two women.

The superior gave orders of keeping Armanovna here, and taking the nurse away, into a convertion field.

Yelena was lucky to hear it, and she ran the fastest that she could into the critical patients nursery, where Y/N was. "Babooshka", she whispered at your ear while grabbing your arm yo take you away, you followed her into the woods. "What happened?" You asked with confution, you saw the look of pure fear un Yelena's eyes.

"They are going to tear us apart, they are are going to take you away, they will torture you there", she was ay the edge of crying, and so did you.

"What can we do?" You couldn't think anything, you were all feelings

"Die, that's our only option, if we run away they will find anyway." The tall one tried to stay calm, failing

"You can't die, you mean hope for everyone!" Your conscience was heavy, you couldn't let Yelena die for you

"Y/n… You are the love of my life, if they take you away, i will kill myself anyway, i can't live without you, i can't just survive anymore, i need to live, when i'm with you i'm alive." Yelena wrapped you in a hug and you felt the tears falling on her face.

At the end, you agreed, Yelena already had a little bottle hidden in her uniform, you both took sips until the bottle was empty, and you kissed and felt eachother like never before, because it was the last time, those were your last hours of life. You passed away after two hours, you were sleeping in Yelena's arms, while she was singing a lullaby from her hometown.

She started with a cracked voice; "I know i do not have silver or gold like many others,

but i promise that i will wrap my bride in silk" she stopped to cry a little.

"and i will love her with such depht,

that all my lacks she will forget,

and she will love until the end… "

Yelena cried louder, and before falling asleep, and looked at your corpse with adoration.

I'm all yours, Babooshka.

Part four: Babooshka

She woke up, ready for the exams, dressed with her usual suit, and put a lucky charm on her pocket.

She was getting to class when she remembered, "my lucky pen is in my locker", so she went to get it, and saw a letter that fell sloppylly on her perfectly organized locker. She looked at the envelope and read "Babooshka", It clearly wasn't from her grandmother, one, because she would have written in "the tongue of mother Russia", two, because she was a bitter old woman that didn't write her, never, not even on her birthday, and three, because it was on her locker, not the mailbox. She opened it go find a love letter that has essence of a known perfume, she received the letter with a strange delight, smelling it and making a place on her locker for the piece of paper.

These letters came one by one every week, and she knew they were from y/n, but Yelena couldn't help to love the letters, and she wanted to keep collecting more and more.

She decided to shoot her shot after two months, when you two were studying together, she kissed your lips out of nowhere, leaving you completely confused and flustered.

"I- i thought you liked Zeke…"

"Oh, i did" Yelena acted so shamelessly "But then you came."

"Do you say that a lot?" You asked annoying trying to shield from your notorious blush

"No, just you, Babooshka. I don't know why, but you make me fee… alive? I feel so close to you since i saw you."

You didn't know what to do, you felt the same way, and you were way too nervous to think a witty reprise.

"Why did you choose the pseudonym Babooshka?" Yelena have been wanting to ask you for a long time.

"For real? I don't know, it just, familiar? I guess"

"Ok, then" she smiled and pulled you closer

"I'm all yours, Babooshka."

#yelena headcanons #yelena #yelena aot #yelena x reader #yelena snk #yelena supremacy #yelena fanfic #aot fanfiction #babooshka #Babooshka songfic

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startanewdream · 3 years

Note

Hey, I just wanted to say that I love your Jily Live AU. I hope you can write more of them. Have you written anything about James and Lily finding out about Snape being Harry’s teacher and his shenanigans? Or about them talking to Harry about Peter? Or even Harry asking his mom what it was like to be a muggleborn? I think those could be good.

Hi! I'm so glad you are enjoying it, it's such a nice world to think of!

I think Snape's relationship with James and Lily is difficult in any universe, and it hurts me to think how a living James would deal with Peter's betrayal (though this is a story I hope to write sometime). So here is a short drabble of Harry and Lily discussing her being a Muggleborn. Hope you enjoy it :)

Warning for mildly swearing, I think.

_________________________

Her hand is writing nonstop, registering her latest discovery, and Lily is so immersed in that feeling of uncovering secrets of potions - new combinations for old ingredients, the closest to science she can find in magic - that she doesn’t immediately register Harry calling her.

‘Mum? Mum!’

‘No chocolate before dinner, Harry, you know the rules’. she says vaguely, still concentrating on writing down the effects of mixing moonstone and wolfsbane.

‘No, I don’t…. there is chocolate?’

‘What?’

‘I want to talk to you’.

‘I’m working now, Harry, you know when mum is busy you have to -’

‘What is a mudblood?’

That makes her lose control of her hand, making a line with the quill across the parchment. Her hand trembles as she carefully rests the quill, raising her eyes to find a pair of green eyes that are the exact tone of hers.

Harry’s voice is nothing like Snape’s, but she can somehow hear the echo of her former best friend calling her mudblood a lifetime ago.

‘Where did you hear that word, Harry?’, she asks quietly, but Harry seems to know something is wrong because he recoils, unsure.

‘Is that an adult word? I am sorry, I didn’t know -’

‘That’s okay, Harry, I am not mad at you’, Lily assures, forcing herself to smile at her son. She offers her arms. ‘Come here’.

Harry doesn’t hesitate before rounding her desk and approaching her. Lily puts him on her lap, caressing softly his hair, making it messy in the way Harry likes, to copy his father’s style.

He is looking at her curiously, and Lily wishes she didn’t have to explain the hard reality of the world - of her world - to her six-years-old son.

‘Who said that word, Harry?’, Lily asks again, softly.

‘I heard today when dad and me -’

‘“Dad and I”, Harry’, she corrects him with a gentle smile. Harry blushes.

‘Yes, when we were at Diagon Alley today. Someone told Dad was a disgrace for marrying a mud… that word’.

Lily bits her lips. James hadn’t said anything to her, even though he had returned home from their trip with a closed face. She should have known something had happened -

‘Dad was going to fight the man’, Harry whispers, looking as if he is sharing a secret. ‘But Uncle Moony didn’t let him. He said - he said Dad was just going to get in trouble’.

‘Remus is always the most reasonable’.

‘I don’t want Dad to be in trouble!’

‘He is not, Harry, it’s fine’, Lily says reassuringly. ‘Your father was just upset. That man said a very bad word’.

‘But you are not a disgrace… you are mum. Dad is happy marrying you!’

‘Of course he is. It’s just… Some people don’t think he should have married me’. When Harry looks mutinous, she touches the point of his nose, making him blink. ‘Let me explain to you, ok?’

She waits until Harry nods silently, his eyes big and confused and so pure that Lily hates more than ever all the prejudice there is in the wizarding world.

‘Do you know how I told you about my parents? Your grandparents?’. He nods once more. ‘They were Muggles’.

Harry furrows his brows, concentrating.

‘They always took you and Aunt Petunia to the zoo’, he says slowly, remembering one of her stories. Lily smiles softly. ‘And they bought you ice cream at the exit’.

‘I always chose chocolate ice cream’.

‘Like me! It’s my favourite’.

‘Yes’, she agrees, tickling him, making Harry giggle. She waits until he stops laughing, then she sighs. ‘Well, because they were Muggles, I’m what wizards called muggleborn. That just means my parents weren’t magical folks’.

‘Does it make a difference, being a muggleborn?’

She can hear the echo of herself making that same question years ago. Severus had told her it didn’t. He had lied.

It wouldn’t be his last lie.

‘It shouldn’t make a difference, Harry’, she says slowly. ‘Every witch and wizard is capable of doing magic, and magic doesn’t care about your surname or your blood or who your parents are. But…’

‘But?’

‘But some people don’t see it like that. Some people think they are better than others because all their past relatives were magic too’. Lily swallows hard and looks at Harry deeply in his eyes. ‘They are wrong, Harry. No one is better than anyone. Every witch and wizard should be equal’.

‘There are people that don’t like you?’, Harry asks in a whisper.

Lily closes her eyes briefly and she can remember the first time she understood the snickers, the contempt in other people’s eyes when they looked at her.

‘Yes’, she admits. ‘Do you remember when we told you about the war? About the man that gave you that scar?’

Harry acquiesces quietly, trembling slightly. Lily and James had told him only the basics of Voldemort, the bare minimum he needed to understand where his scar came from.

‘Well, one of the things he defended was that wizarding blood was different, that muggles were lesser than wizards. And that anyone who had muggle relatives, especially muggleborns like me, were worthless because of their relation with muggles'.

‘But you are a great witch!’, Harry cries indignantly. ‘You make all these spells and potions and -’

‘That’s the point, Harry’, she cuts him off gently. ‘I am as magical as your dad, as much as anyone. It doesn’t matter who my parents were, but that doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of them. I loved them very much and I’m glad to be muggleborn. It means I belong in both worlds. Like you’.

‘I am in two worlds too?’

‘Of course you are’, she assures him, smiling at her son. ‘And everyone is worth the same, magical or not, witch and wizard or any other creature. No one is better than anyone’.

Harry agrees with his head, looking as thoughtful as a six-years-old can be.

‘But those who are prejudiced use Mudblood as a slur for muggleborns like me’.

‘It’s a bad word’, says Harry solemnly.

‘Yes, it is’.

‘I won’t let anyone call you that’, Harry promises. ‘You or anyone else’.

Lily hugs him.

‘Just don’t get into trouble for it’, she asks. ‘Those people - those prejudiced people - are not worth it’.

‘The secret, Harry’, she hears someone saying from the door, and she turns to see James smirking there, ‘is that if no one knows it was you, you won't ever be in trouble’.

Lily raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything.

‘Sirius just arrived. He is asking for his favourite godson’, James adds, and Harry lets out a happy cry.

‘Can I go, Mum?’, he says. She nods, and he kisses her on the cheek before jumping, running towards the door.

James just messes with his son’s hair as Harry passes through him, and he closes the door of her office.

'Did you just tell our son that he shouldn't get caught?', Lily asks, the corners of her mouth almost lifting up in a smile.

'Well, I wasn't going to say he shouldn't defend his mum', James ponders, sitting on her desk. There is a smile on his face that Lily can only describe as marauder.

'Why do I think you took your own advice?'

'Oh, Lily, you hurt me', he says playfully, tucking her hair behind her ear. 'What would you think I have anything to do with Travers' office being inundated for a week?'

'Who said anything about Travers?'

'Not me. In fact, the less I think about that wanker, the better'.

'Language, James', she teases, smiling despite herself. 'That's an adult word. What if Harry hears it?'

'Harry is pretty busy right now, since Sirius owned me a favour or two', he whispers, bending down to press his lips softly against her neck. 'How about we do some adult things?'

The door of her office stays closed for a very long time.

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

There is an expression on James' face when he returns home that Lily has long ago learnt to associate with a prank.

'What?', she asks, raising her eyebrows.

James grins.

'I had the most fascinating chat with Minerva today, when I dropped by to deliver her my recent articles'.

'Yeah?'

'She told me a curious tale. Apparently Lucius Malfoy's son's new broomstick had to be sent to repair because someone managed to dispel the cushioning charm'.

'How come?'

'No one knows… just as it happens, by pure coincidence, Harry asked me a week ago about the theory of dispelling charms'.

'What?!', Lily cries, just as James' smirk increases. 'Harry is supposed to behave, James, especially after that story with the flying car -'

'Apparently, the Malfoy boy called Hermione Granger a "Mudblood" one week ago', James adds, in a nonchalant voice.

Lily blinks.

'I see. I suppose no one discovered who tampered with the broomstick?', she asks, her voice as calm as his now.

James denies with his head.

'Too bad then', she replies, returning to her book with a smirk that she knows it’s just like the one on James’ face. 'I guess we will always wonder who did it'.

#Jily Lives #Eyes glistening #jily fanfiction #Lily Evans #Harry Potter #Lily Evans is a good parent #Harry Potter is a good son

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flowerflamestars · 3 years

Note

Hey hey hey 😀 not sure if you've been getting my asks(could really be my WiFi too) or Tumblr has been up to no good again, but hey how was ACOSF? I gather from your updates and posts you're just disappointed by it. A lot of us are. Hope you've been doing well after reading Acosf 😅

Hey babe! I know I have at least one from you that I need to answer- entirely my bad, I’ve been going through my inbox in little chunks. Yall have been too lovely and the influx is great :)

Disappointment is very much the right word.

The big thing- ignoring that Nesta as a character was meaningful, or that the baby plot line was big swing in every wrong way possible, the plotting is a MESS- is that I think the story resoundingly fails on both it’s goals.

It’s a recovery story, a healing story. And a romance.

BIG SPOILERS AHEAD

Nesta is stripped of her autonomy. And I want to be extremely clear on that- this is framed as an intervention and it is not an intervention. It is not, at any point, really about Nesta becoming healthy. It’s about control. Rhys says it, Feyre says it, Cassian says it: Nesta is a problem. Nesta affects their reputation. Nesta needs to be punished.

Morrigan, a fellow abuse/assault survivor, tells Cassian with absolute seriousness that they should just throw Nesta into the Court of Nightmares and leave her there. Because she’s just as bad.

WHAT

The entire structure is that Nesta needs to change- but it isn’t about her being safer, her finding her way- it’s about the fact that her being suicidally depressed makes her sister sad.

So yeah, Nesta gets stronger. Because one of her two-pronged punishments is army training with the man she once loved and has been trying to distance herself from for YEARS. Who proceeds to control what she wears, when she sleeps, WHAT SHE EATS. Who laughs, when she gets hurt.

By the end of the story, the issue Nesta has confronted, from her laundry list of trauma is...that she’s bitchy to her sisters in instances of extreme distress/hardship.

That she...blames herself for the death of her abusive, absent father, who in no way contributed to her life from the time of her mothers death into her adulthood until he showed up for...ten seconds in acowar, named a ship after her, and immediately died. Watching a parent die? traumatic as hell. Retconning an ENTIRE parent-child relationship to make a character have something more palatable to struggle with? Bad writing.

Rape hangs over Nesta like a cloud this whole novel, but she never talks about it. It never in any way comes up while her and Cassian are having rough sex on every available surface.

She never heals, and she never becomes comfortable as a faery. She gives up her power.

Literally AND figuratively- Nesta is the same person at the end of the novel, but now she can punch really hard? has no magic, gave up a destiny the book STRONGLY IMPLIES was actually, really, always about Rhysand. All that changed is now she’s finally bent enough to play by the rules of the same people who condemned her for responding to the terrible things that happened it her...in ways exactly like they have and continue to do.

It makes me so sad, you know?

Which brings us to Cassian.

Who is supposed to be the emotionally intuitive one. The one who has survived so much, who understands trauma. Who more than that, understands Nesta, better than anyone else.

That is not the man in this book.

He’ll make this earnest declarations that sound...almost right? and then ten seconds later he’s guilt-tripping her. Saying just, absolute bullshit to her. Sexualizing her in her lowest moments.

It’s not enemies to lovers- Cassian is ashamed of Nesta when the book begins. Takes active glee in physically punishing her when she’s having a breakdown 600 pages later, on what it supposed to be the great tipping point of their relationship.

At no point does this man seem to even LIKE Nesta. He wants to have sex with her. He want her to do what he wants and obey 1) him and 2) their High Lord and Lady.

Nesta, who even toward the end of the book, as I said STILL IS NOT HEALING AT ALL, tells Cassian: “I don’t deserve you, and I never, ever will.”

Cassian’s response it to...kiss her?

Tell her: “You’re not going to marry Eris.” “There will be no one for else. For either of us.”

And then Nesta says yes, cries more, and they have sex again.

oh yeah, and then in the morning he runs off? To have a snowball fight? And then doesn’t speak to her or see her for three days.

I just. This dynamic never gets better. Proud, strong, intelligent, ferocious Nesta is always kind of like: will you look at me? you’re good and i am not.

She’s not safe in this love. Not comfortable, not ever on even ground. The entire dynamic of this relationship has brought her low and keeps her there.

So like, in the end. They have this fight where Cassian fully starts yelling at her...in public...because she isn’t saying yes! we’re mates! I’m going to quote it here:

“I am your mate, for fucks sake!” Cassian shouted, loud enough for people across the river to hear. “You are my mate! Why are you still fighting it?”

She let the truth, voiced at last, wash over her.

“You promised me forever on Solstice,” he said, voice breaking, “Why is one word somehow throwing you off that?”

“Because with that one word, the last scrap of my humanity goes away!” She didn’t care who say them, who heard. “With that one stupid word, I am no longer human in any way. I’m one of you!”

He blinked. “I thought you wanted to be one of us.”

“I don’t know what I want. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Well, I didn’t have a choice in being shackled to you, either.”

GUYS. I hate this fight to unfathomable levels.

so yes, he immediately tries to recant it...but like, let’s follow the thread for a minute. They’re together, really together, ever since the stupid moment Nesta said she was trash and didn’t deserve Cassian and Cassian said...you and me! forever! let’s fuck about it!

I get that the matebond is a precious thing- but god, it could not be clearer Cassian just...doesn’t respect Nesta even a little bit? She won’t use the word, so he’s yelling at her.

a page before: “That word means nothing to me, Cassian,” she said, voice thick as she tried to keep people who strode past from overhearing. “It means something to all of you, but for most of my life husband and wife was as good as it got. Mate is just a word.”

BECAUSE SHE WAS HUMAN. Because, very validly... Nesta has been fae for, two years? Her baseline is human, that’s how she feels. And she’s not wrong??

Faeries get married too. It’s not mates or nothing.

In my imaginary book, Cassian goes: why Archeron, is that a proposal? Because I’d love nothing more than to be your husband.

In THIS BOOK, he snaps: “That’s bullshit.”

Annnd cue fight.

Not only is Cassian so, so disrespectful of Nesta’s feelings...HE THOUGHT SHE WANTED TO BE A FAERY?

Are you kidding me, canon? Nesta was drowned against her will in the Cauldron! Cassian was there, unconscious in a pool of his own blood, still trying to reach her and save her. The ENTIRE pivot of her character that slides her into the dark place this book is meant to heal her from is her complete loss of autonomy at Hyberns hands.

and then the shackle line. I just...obviously, people say things in arguments they don’t mean, But Cassian never once stops going for what hurts the most where Nesta is concerned, and is yet baffled by her responses. He understands how to hurt her, but not how to comfort her when they’re fully clothed.

And then the end is...they’re mates. They’re going to have babies. They’re going to have a big faery mating ceremony. Nesta’s feelings aren’t not addressed, they magically cease to exist.

I’m sorry this turned into a FULL RANT- but yes, I’m disappointed.

Its always the same story: the difficult woman has to soften. Learn to be nice. Power? she can’t have that. She’s going to have a mate and babies, that’s her journey, because that’s every woman's journey.

There is one bright spot, which I do have to mention. I love Nesta’s friends.

They’re her real chance at recovery, that the IC have nothing to do with. And you know what? she makes them right off the bat. It’s crazy how if you treat someone like a person, they can function like one.

I just want them to have their own story far, far away from everyone else.

#apparently I was holding in a rant with my whole chest #acosf spoilers #knowing it wasn't going to be great did help #as did live blogging it with all of yall #but go fuck that ending forever #bad in every way #in a book that both had too many details and no plot #in a love story that was better when they were strangers than when they were sleeping together

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noemibalbii · 3 years

Text

Six of Crows duology quotes

“Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you’ll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won’t matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart.”

“Kaz leaned back. “What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?” “Knife to the throat?” asked Inej. “Gun to the back?” said Jesper. “Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina. “You’re all horrible,” said Matthias.

“No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for ‘good luck’.”

“The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.”

“When someone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.”

“She’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and gotten drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.”

“He needed to tell her… what? That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without meaning to, he’d begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near. He needed to thank her for his new hat.”

“I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath.”

“Please, my darling Inej, treasure of my heart, won’t you do me the honor of acquiring me a new hat?”

“What do you want then?” The old answers came easily to mind. Money. Vengeance. Jordie’s voice in my head silenced forever. But a different reply roared inside him, loud, insistent, and unwelcome, You, Inej, you.

“Greed is your god, Kaz.” He almost laughed at that. “No, Inej. Greed bows to me. It is my servant and my lever.”

“The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it where you want it to go.”

“Better terrible truths than kind lies.”

“You’ll get what’s coming to you some day, Brekker.” “I will,” said Kaz, “if there’s any justice in the world. And we all know how likely that is.”

“You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.” “I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.” “There’s a difference between confidence and arrogance.”

“Stay,” he said, his voice rough stone. “Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me.” She looked down at his gloved hand clutching hers. Everything in her wanted to say yes, but she would not settle for so little, not after all she’d been through. “What would be the point?” He took a breath. “I want you to stay, I want you to… I want you.” “You want me.” She turned the words over. Gently, she squeezed his hand. “And how will you have me, Kaz?” He looked at her then, eyes fierce, mouth set, It was the face he wore when he was fighting. “How will you have me?” she repeated. “Fully clothed, gloves on, your head turned away so our lips can never touch?” He released her hand, his shoulders bunching, his gaze angry and ashamed as he turned his face to the sea. Maybe it was because his back was to her that she could finally speak the words. “I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.”

“Some people see a magic trick and say, “Impossible!” They clap their hands, turn over their money, and forget about it ten minutes later. Other people ask how it worked. They go home, get into bed, toss and turn, wondering how it was done. It takes them a good night’s sleep to forget all about it. And then there are the ones who stay awake, running through the trick again and again, looking for that skip in perception, the crack in the illusion that will explain how their eyes got duped; they’re the kind who won’t rest until they’ve mastered that little bit of mystery for themselves. I’m that kind.”

“He’d broken his leg dropping down from the rooftop. The bone didn’t set right, and he’d limped ever after. So he’d found himself a Fabrikator and had his cane made. It became a declaration. There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.”

“Do you have a different name for killing when you wear a uniform to do it?”

“Facts are for the unimaginative.”

“When we get our money, you can burn kruge to keep you warm.” “I’m going to pay someone to burn my kruge for me.” “Why don’t you pay someone else to pay someone to burn your kruge for you? That’s what the big players do.”

“How do you get your information, Mister Brekker?” “You might say I’m a lockpick.” “You must be a very gifted one.” “I am indeed.” Kaz leaned back slightly. “You see, every man is a safe, a vault of secrets and longings. Now, there are those who take the brute’s way, but I prefer a gentler approach - the right pressure applied at the right moment, in the right place. It’s a delicate thing.” “Do you always speak in metaphors, Mister Brekker?” Kaz smiled. “It’s not a metaphor.” He was out of his chair before his chains hit the ground.”

“A liar, a thief, and utterly without conscience. But he’ll keep to any deal you strike with him.”

“You couldn’t train a falcon, then expect it not to hunt.”

“The life you live, the hate you feel - it’s poison. I can drink it no longer.”

Jesper: “If Pekka Rollins kills us all, I’m going to get Wylan’s ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost.” Kaz: “I’ll just hire Matthias’s ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.” Matthias: “My ghost won’t associate with your ghost.”

“But all he could think of was Inej. She had to live. She had to have made it out of the Ice Court. And if she hadn’t, then he had to live to rescue her.”

“He was going to break my legs,” she said, her chin held high, the barest quaver in her voice. “Would you have come for me then, Kaz? When i couldn’t scale a wall or walk a tightrope? When I wasn’t the Wraith anymore?” Dirtyhands would not. The boy who could get them through this, get their money, keep them alive, would do her the courtesy of putting her out of her out of her misery, then cut his losses and move on. “I would have come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I’d crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we’d fight our way out together - knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that’s what we do. We never stop fighting.”

“Fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.”

“Maybe there were people who lived those lives. Maybe this girl was one of them. But what about the rest of us? What about the nobodies and the nothings, the invisible girls? We learn to hold our heads as if we wear crowns. We learn to write magic from the ordinary. That was how you survived when you weren’t chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway.”

“Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too. They don’t forget. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for.”

“Has anyone noticed this whole city is looking for us, mad at us, or want to kill us?” “So?” said Kaz. “Well, usually it’s just half the city.”

“She smiled then, her cheeks red, her cheeks scattered with some kind of dust. It was a smile he thought he might die to earn again.”

“No mourners. No funerals. Another way of saying good luck. But it was something more. A dark wink to the fact that there would be no expensive burials for people like them, no marble markers to remember their names, no wreaths of myrtle and rose.”

“Have any of you wondered what I did with all the cash Pekka Rollins gave us?” “Guns?” asked Jesper. “Ships?” queried Inej. “Bombs?” suggested Wylan. “Political bribes?” offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. “This is where you tell us how awful we are,” she whispered.

“We meet fear. We greet the unexpected visitor and listen to what he has to tell us. When fear arrives, something is about to happen.”

“You don’t look like a monster.” “I’ll tell you a secret, Hannah. The really bad monsters never look like monsters.”

Until this moment, Wylan hadn’t quite understood how much they meant to him. His father would have sneered at these thugs and thieves. a disgraced soldier, a gambler who couldn’t keep out of the red. But they were his first friends, his only friends, and Wylan knew that even if he’d had his pick of a thousand companions, these would have been the people he chose.”

“They were twin souls, soldiers destined to fight for different sides, to find each other and lose each other too quickly. She would not keep him here. Not like this.”

“At some point, Jesper realized Kaz was gone. “Not one for goodbyes, is he?” he muttered. “He doesn’t say goodbye,” Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. “He just lets go.”

“I’ve been nothing but kind to you. I’m not some sort of a monster.” “No, you’re the man who sits idly by, congratulating yourself on your decency, while the monster eats his fill. At least a monster has teeth and a spine.”

“But if you couldn’t open a door, you just had to make a new one.”

“You’re not weak because you can’t read. You’re weak because you’re afraid of people seeing your weakness. You’re letting shame decide who you are. […] It’s shame that lines my pockets, shame that keeps the Barrel teeming with fools ready to put on a mask just so they can have what they want with none the wiser about it. We can endure all kinds of pain. It’s shame that eats men whole.”

“She could feel the press of Kaz’s fingers against her skin, feel the bird’s wing brush of his mouth against her neck, see his dilated eyes. Two of the deadliest people the Barrel had to offer and they could barely touch each other without both of them keeling over. But they’d tried. He’d tried. Maybe they could try again. A foolish wish, the sentimental hope of a girl who hadn’t had the firsts of her life stolen, who hadn’t ever felt Tante Heleen’s lash, who wasn’t covered in wounds and wanted by the law. Kaz would have laughed at her optimism.”

“No matter the height of the mountain, the climbing is the same.”

“But when someone does wrong, when we make mistakes, we don’t say we’re sorry. We promise to make amends.” “I will.” “Mati en sheva yelu. This action will have no echo. It means we won’t repeat the same mistakes, that we won’t continue to do harm.”

“Van Eck promised us thirty million kruge,” said Kaz. “That’s exactly what we’re going to take. With another one million for interest, expenses, and just because we can.” Wylan broke a cracker in two. “My father doesn’t have thirty million kruge lying around. Even if you took all his assets together.” “You should leave, then,” said Jesper. “We only associate with the disgraced heirs of the very finest fortunes.”

“You’re better than waffles, Matthias Helvar.” A small smile curled the Fjerdan’s lips. “Let’s not say things we don’t mean, my love.”

“A proper thief is like a proper poison, merchling. He leaves no trace.”

“She took a shaky breath. The words came like a string of gunshots, rapid-fire, as if she resented the very act of speaking them. “I didn’t know if you would come.” Kaz couldn’t blame Van Eck for that. Kaz had built that doubt in her with every cold word and small cruelty. “We’re your crew, Inej. We don’t leave our own at the mercy of merch scum.” It wasn’t the answer he wanted to give. It wasn’t the answer she wanted.

“I just don’t get it. I’ve spent my whole life hiding the things I can’t do. Why run from the amazing things you can do?”

“She felt his knuckles slide against hers. Then his hand was in her hand, his palm was pressed against her own. A tremor moved through him. Slowly, he let their fingers entwine. For a long while, they stood there, hands clasped, looking out at the gray expanse of the sea.”

“Matthias knew monsters, and one glance at Kaz Brekker had told him this was a creature who had spent too long in the dark - he’d brought something back with him when he’d crawled into the light.”

“She wouldn’t wish love on anyone. It was the guest you welcomed and then couldn’t be rid of.”

“Brick by brick. Brick by brick. I will destroy you.” It was the promise that let him sleep at night, that drove him every day, that kept Jordie’s ghost at bay. Because a quick death was too good for Pekka Rollins.”

“Kaz narrowed his eyes. “I’m not some character out of a children’s story who plays harmless pranks and steals from the rich to give to the poor.”

“Inej had once offered to teach him how to fall. “The trick is not getting knocked down,” he’d told her with a laugh. “No, Kaz,” she’d said, “the trick is in getting back up.”

“It was because she was listening so closely the she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.”

“Our hopes rest with you, Mister Brekker. If you fail, all the world will suffer for it.” “Oh, it’s worse than that, Van Eck. If I fail, I don’t get paid.”

“This isn’t… it isn’t a trick, is it?” Her voice was smaller than she wanted it to be. The shadow of something dark moved across Kaz’s face. “If it were a trick, I’d promise you safety. I’d offer you happiness. I don’t know if that exists in the Barrel, but you’ll find none of it with me.” For some reason, those words had comforted her. Better terrible truths than kind lies. “All right,” she said. “How do we begin?” “Let’s start by getting out of here and finding you some proper clothes. Oh, and Inej,” he said as he led her out of the salon, “don’t ever sneak up on me again.”

“They fear you as I once feared you,” he said. “As you once feared me. We are all someone’s monster, Nina.”

“You still may die in the Dregs.” Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. “I may. But I’ll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.”

“Shame holds more value than coin ever can.”

“None of us move on without a backward look. We move on always carrying with us those we have lost.”

“You came back for me.” “I protect my investments.” Investments. “I’m glad I’m bleeding all over your shirt.”

“Why do you wear gloves, Mister Brekker?” Kaz raised a brow. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.” “Each more grotesque than the last.” Kaz had heard them, too. Brekker’s hands were stained with blood. Brekker’s hands were covered in scars. Brekker had claws and not fingers because he was part demon. Brekker’s touch burned like brimstone - a single brush of his bare skin caused your flesh to wither and die. “Pick one,” Kaz said as he vanished into the night, thoughts already turning to thirty million kruge and the crew he’d need to help him get it. “They’re all true enough.”

“You have no finesse,” a gambler at the Silver Garter once said to him. “No technique.” “Sure I do,” Kaz had responded. “I practice the art of ‘pull his shirt over his head and punch till you see blood’.”

“A gambler, a convict, a wayward son, a lost Grisha, a Suli girl who had become a killer, a boy from the Barrel who had become something worse.” [...] “What bound them together? Greed? Desperation? Was it just the knowledge that if one or all of them disappeared tonight, no one would come looking?”

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fallen029 · 3 years

Text

Adult Swim

Laxus was very careful as he sank into the steamy water of the bathhouse, hissing as his muscles and wounds all cried out momentarily from the heat, but this was quickly quelled as the soothing affect of whatever the water had been infused with won out.

It had been a long, hard few days for him.

It was rare for a job to go so poorly.

Sneering some to himself as he played back the vents of the past week or so, Laxus was certain that this was not only a fluke, but one that he wouldn't easily come across again. It wasn't even that his opponents had truly bested him a battle, but rather outsmarted him. Though this should have made it hurt less, the sting felt more sharp, as he could always prove his magical prowess, but mental was much more difficult.

He felt ashamed.

When he was a little boy, if he returned from a job unsuccessful, he'd do so with his tail between his legs, avoiding his father and grandfather as not to admit to them his folly. As he grew, he stop returning from those sorts of jobs at all. Rather, he had pretty sound record for doing all that he could to take care of anything he was hired for.

It was very rare for him to be bested.

Much less outwitted.

"It's going to hurt your teeth in the long run, if you keep doing that, dragon," he heard a voice through the steaminess of the room and though it was difficult to place her, his mind was calmed at the sound. "Grinding them like that. Are you in that much pain?"

Instead of answering, he called out to the woman, "What's with the temp, huh? And what's in this water? You do this all for me?"

"Of course, Laxus." And he found her now, edging into the giant pool of water the room was mostly filled with. At the sound of her sinking into the water as well, he stiffened some, listening in rapt silence as she assured him, "I'd do anything for you."

Stifling some, he coughed a bit before questioning, "Are you sure we're alone?"

"Would I be here," she questioned as water sifted around had he could hear her, swimming towards him, "if we weren't?"

"No," he gave in as, even if their relationship was more public, he couldn't imagine her risking such a stunt around the others. "But…"

"But?"

And she was before him now, completely visible even in the heavy steam and Laxus reached out to brush his bruised knuckles against her pale cheek, getting just a hint of red to appear at the gesture. She was as nude as he was, the water only hiding everything just beneath the mid-level of her breasts and Laxus was disappointed that the steam did keep him from any glimpses of more.

"But," he went on as he smiled for the first time in days and it hurt a bit, all of him hurt a bit, maybe, treading water there with the demon, it was the good kind. "We could pretend."

"Mmm," she hummed as she turned her head, when he tried to kiss her. This was no problem for the slayer though as he only pressed his lips to her rosy cheek instead, humming some himself as he heard her continue, "I don't like that much, Lax. Pretending."

"Is that right?" he whispered with an edge of husk. "Demon?"

"I like things that are just more," she remarked as she ran a hand down his chest, dipping a bit lower, beneath the water level, "real, you know?"

"It's all pretend, demon, if you think about it," he reasoned, maybe a bit, hissing some as her hand deviated at the last moment, coming up a bit to stroke at one of his bruised hips instead. "What the fuck even is magic? Or this? Any of this? A guild. Jobs. What the fuck ever happened to running a shop or a store or fuck, do people even raise cows anymore? And chickens and shit? Why is it all magic and bullshit? I want to be a farmer."

She was quiet the entire time he was speaking, letting the man get it all out of his system, before the most feminine of giggles escaped her lips and he cupped one of her breasts, sighing some at the sound.

"Do you always give up when something does go your way?" she asked. "Dragon?"

"What are you talking about?" he questioned as his toothy grin fell a bit. "Just spending time with my woman. My demon."

"You're sulking," she told him softly and, annoyed by this, Laxus shifted away from her somewhat.

"I'm injured."

"Are you?"

"I am."

"Then why did you not come into the infirmary?" Mira asked. "Huh? Gone up stairs, gotten all bandaged up and medicated-"

"When I could have you just put some sorta shit in the bathhouse water? Heat it up for me all nice?" Snorting, Laxus questioned, "I'm a very important person, ain't I?"

"The most important," she offered.

"You kid."

"I'm not."

"But," he insisted, "I'm serious. I want you to make over me, demon."

"Well," she began with a click of her tongue, "I'm not one to judge, but you could do for a some concealer and your lashes are so great, but could you imagine them fuller? Because I have."

"What?" Laxus frowned down at her for a moment before remarking, "Mira, I mean I want you to tell me how great I am and how I need to keep my head up and I'll get them next time and that I'm still the greatest slayer of all time and-"

"I get it." Mira even smiled. "You want me to stroke your ego."

"I want you to stroke a lot of things."

"Laxus-"

"But yes." And his grin returned, toothier than ever before. "My ego is so bruised."

"Bullshit."

"Mira." Laxus made a face, confused by her language. "What-"

"You've been hurt before." This time when her hand pressed against his chest, it was to push it, hard. "Badly. Been down to some of the lowest of depths."

"Why are you-"

"And you've felt bad about yourself," she kept up and he was shifting backwards, until his back was against the pool wall and he took in a deep breath. "A lot, actually. You hide it better, usually, but I've seen you when you're really upset. Lax. When you get all quiet and reserved and you won't even talk to your little body guards. Or me."

"You studying me, woman?"

"I know you. From being around you." She pressed herself against him and Laxus shut his eyes for a moment, as she added, "From being in love with you."

He took in a breath, Laxus did, before whispering, "What is it then, doc? What's wrong with me?"

She hummed again and the sound felt heavenly, as she almost seemed to do so in a tune. It had been a long week, as Laxus has surmised before, but now he longed for a late night, in apartment, with the demon strumming at her guitar as he laid around, listening. Watching.

It wasn't unlike how they were now.

He wanted her so badly now, in that moment, and whatever he'd originally been angling for was beginning to get edged out. But just as he was planning on making a real move, the woman spoke.

"I think you're worried about something."

"W-What?"

"I think," Mirajane kept up, "that something has you worried. Dragon."

"I don't worry about shit," he grumbled. "I'm the fucking top dog around here."

"Top dragon."

"Damn straight." He puffed out his chest. "I run this place. I control it. Me."

"Laxus, you only show up like once a month. If that. And that's only to flirt with me."

He didn't dispute this, but rather countered, "And yet I'm still the most fucking important. I always has been. I'm the Dreyar. I'm the reason this whole thing exists. Me."

"All that and you're just a farmer."

"So what the fuck," he kept up, "do I have to be worried about?"

"It's gonna be a cold autumn," Mira mused, "so I suppose your crops."

"I'm practically a Wizard Saint."

"Sure," she agreed, "if you don't include any of the glory or voting or prestige and you're only even in the consideration because of Master-"

"Fuck, Mira."

"Sorry." She was the one to shift away then, tossing up both hands. "You can play pretend about being a Wizard Saint if you want to."

"It's not that." Huffing, the man told her, "You know that I don't wanna fucking hear about him right now. The old man."

"You can't possibly still be fighting with him."

"Why do I have to be anything about him right now?" Laxus questioned. "Huh? I mean god, Mira, we're about to fuck."

"Are we?"

"Are we?" He questioned back with a raised eyebrow, but Mira only made a face.

"You both are so stupid, you know that?"

"Demon-"

"You are," she insisted. "You're fighting with an old man, Laxus."

"I'm skinny dipping with my girlfriend, Mira."

"What did he even do to you, huh? Just because-"

"You always take his side."

"He's my Master." She was acting as if he were the stupid one. "Of course I do."

"I'm your boyfriend." Laxus frowned. "I'd think that trumps that."

"Boyfriend, master, boyfriend, master, boyfriend, master." Mira held her palms out, lifting them on alternating intervals, as if weighing her options." Boyfriend-"

"Knock it off," he finally remarked. "Your wording is kinda creeping me out."

"Master wasn't trying to pick a fight with you," she tired instead. "Honest. He just-"

"What are you now? His parrot?" the slayer complained. "And what is this? A setup? Did you purposely lure me here?"

"Lure?" She snorted. "Hardly."

"Tricking me with implications of sex-"

"You," she remarked with a sharply pointed finger, "got naked in this pool first. Not me."

"You stripped down in the men's section and got into it with me!" He couldn't believe they were now arguing over this, but, well, Laxus never rightly could let someone else feel as if they had one. "I'm not the one in the wrong here. If anything, considering you work here, you're kind of abusing your privileges now."

"Who are you going to tell? Your grandfather?" Mira huffed, not liking the idea of being beaten either. "No, considering you won't even talk to him."

"You did set me up!"

"Laxus-"

"This is unbelievable." He shook his head. "I have half the mind to leave right now." When Mira glanced at him though, he added, "I mean, I'm not going to, but-"

"You've been acting like an asshole for two solid months," Mira interrupted. "You know that? And everyone's been worried about It. And then you came back from this job unsuccessful and I just thought.."

"You just thought what? Huh? That you would corner me and make me and my grandfather make up?"

"I thought that I would figure out what's been up with you."

"Demon-"

"But yes," she admitted then and she shifted closer to him once more, staring up into the man's hard eyes. "I did kinda sorta know it's been about the Master this whole time."

"That's shady." And he got to wag his own finger then. "You know that?"

"He's old, Laxus," she defended then. "And has been all bent out of shape too, this whole time, because the two of you are on the outs."

"Has he ever heard of apologizing?"

"Have you?"

"That's not-"

"What was it even about? Huh?" Mira reached out and up then, for his cheek, but Laxus turned away and the affects were wearing off. In the water. He could feel it. Whatever magic she'd infused was dissipating and now they were just in a boiling pot of steamy water for no reason. "Dragon…"

"You don't know everything, Mira." Laxus still refused to look at her. "He's my grandfather. Yeah, he's something to you. He's something to all of you. But I'm different. He's different, to me. You don't understand."

"That's true," Mira whispered after a moment of allowing them man his moment to feel just in that assessment. "But I know that I love the two of you, very much-"

"Awe, gross, demon-"

"I do. Your grandfather is very special to me-"

"You're intent on ruining this moment, huh? Just absolute deadset on it?"

"It would just make me happy, Laxus," she decided, finally, to land on. "Alright? Seeing both of you bent out of shape at the other bothers me. I know that he can be overbearing and obnoxious and perverted-"

"Yeah, one of those, thankfully, isn't as big of an issue for me-"

"-but he's my master." When she reached out that time, it was to physically grab his face, holding his jaw in her grasp as she forced the man to keep eye contact with her. It truly did feel like being in the death grip of a demonic force. "And you're my boyfriend. Who I think is handsome and caring and generous and powerful and strong-"

"Go on," the man tried to get out, but it was difficult around her grip.

"But-"

"No buts."

"-you're also stubborn." She released his jaw then, but he didn't look away. Only glared as the woman insisted, "You have the ego the size of a small village and you can never swallow even an ounce of your massive pride."

"Yeah, well, you cry sometimes and it really bums me out. What about that, huh? And you have dorky siblings. So there."

"Laxus-"

"What do you want me to say, Mira?" he asked defensively.

She only shook her head. "You're both Dreyar men. Which means that you're hardheaded and have a hard time making up with others. I get that. I've seen that. I've lived that. But it would just mean a lot to me if I didn't feel like I was walking on eggshells between two of my favorite people in the whole world."

He slumped some, in the water, and all she'd wanted had escaped her now, leaving the two of them in a steamy bath, alone still, in an empty guildhall, how they always liked to be, but the mood was off and neither saw it being recaptured.

The night ended with Mira leaving him alone in the bath area, while she finished closing up the hall and when Laxus returned to her, it wasn't with malice or disappointment, but just a dreary tiredness that she felt as well.

Makarov was around the guildhall that next morning, grumbling into his first mug of coffee Mira presented to him, but she merely forced a smile for the old man and, well, it was hard ot stay mad at that.

But somehow he managed.

It was a normal day of there ever could be one in the Fairy Tail guildhall regulars intermingled with those returning only for a short stay while Mirajane and Kinana served them the warmest of breakfasts in the early hours and stiffest of ales the rest.

When Laxus showed up around noon, it was to find the Thunder Legion already there, prepared to lick the man's wounds for him, and he would attend to that, of course, eventually, but he had something of a ritual in those days. Mirajane was his woman after all, and it was hardly an uncommon sight in those days to glimpse the slayer leaning against the bar as he gruffly flirted with the woman in a way only a demon could appreciate.

But when he leaned against the bar that day, it wasn't to complement the woman on her dress or request one of those stiff drinks for himself.

No.

Though Mira was before him in mere seconds, Laxus wasn't rightly looking to her as his vision was instead on where the old man sat, perched atop the bar with his staff in one hand and a mean look in his typically jolly eyes.

"Ay, Gramps."

Makarov seemed equally surprised as he was apprehensive and defensive, right out of the gate, as he turned his dark eyes onto his grandson, prepared for whatever the young man might send the way. It was difficult for him to even remember, really, what the two of them were so mad about now, weeks out, but oh, he knew he wished he could go back and tar young Laxus' hide even more, if it meant putting even the smallest amount of respect into the boy's future self.

But he threw the old man off, Laxus did, as he smiled in a rather comfortable way, toothy, but not exactly showy, offering simply, "You ever think about doing work around here or what?"

It would've felt tense, were it anyone else, but this was hardly a true slinging of words out of the mouth of Laxus, especially to his grandfather and Makarov lost the anger behind his eyes, it instead being replaced momentarily by confusion though that quickly morphed into something else.

Annoyance.

But a pretend one, as his brows weren't even furrowed and his grumbled voice felt far more mellow than when the man truly was agitated.

"And what do you know of work, Laxus?" he huffed. "Nothing much, from what I hear."

"What do you hear, old man?"

"More than you do, with that damn music always playing in your ears."

He laughed, maybe, or at least Laxus made a strange noise as he said, "Every time I come around her recently, you're sitting around doin' nothin' while my poor demon's working herself damn near to death on your behalf. Why is that?"

"Laxus," Mira warned, finally speaking up some, but Makarov only snorted at his grandson.

"Mirajane enjoys helping me," the man defended. "She's actually grateful for my presence, unlike you, you big brat. Always have been. So ungrateful."

"I'm grateful for plenty, Gramps." His smile for Mira felt different, when Laxus looked at her, but it was brief as he was quickly remarking, "Not exactly the conversation to be havin' in front of everyone though. Showing you up."

"Why you-"

'So," Laxus kept up, not allowing the older man's gripes as he said, "how 'bout I take you out to dinner tonight?"

"W-What?" This stopped Makarov short.

Laxus merely shrugged "Me and my demon have been thinkin' about trying that new place down by the canal. The one that replaced the old card shop? But if you don't want to join us-"

"I didn't say that." Makarov looked to Mirajane then. "Did you put him up to this?"

"I don't know anything about this, Master," she told him honestly before, tilting her head, she admitted, "Although, I have been wanting to try that place. But it's rather expensive and with how slow things have been around here recently-"

"Good thing you have a flashy boyfriend that can't wait to treat you to it then," Makarov remarked to the woman. "Not to mention his grandfather-"

"Is that what I agreed to?" Laxus griped himself a bit before, leaning across the bar once more, it was to press a short kiss against Mira's cheek. Then, taking a step back, he only glanced between the two of them before saying, "Buncha leeches, the two of you."

"Yes, well," Makarov began as he jumped down then, from the bar top so that he could stare up at his towering grandson. "I guess I do have some paperwork I should attend to. Before the evening rolls around."

"I left a stack on your desk, Master," Mira called after him as, with a sharp nod at the by then void once more Laxus, the man set off for his office. "And Laxus," she called after him as well, when he headed over to where his three best friend were trying hard to not appear as if they had been eavesdropping on every last thing that had just taken place between the two Dreyar men, "I'll be over in a minute with your drink."

It would actually be more than a few, but that was fine, as by that point Freed had set into the job board, Evergreen had found herself busy definitely not flirting with Elfman Strauss across the bar, and Bickslow busied himself with torturing whichever sucker in the bar would tolerate him and his strange dolls.

Mira came over bearing the man's favorite ale. As she leaned down to place it on his table though, she reached over to grasp one of Laxus' headphones, pulling it away some so she could whisper in it instead.

"Thank you."

"Ay, demon." He moved to snatch the headphone back. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure," she giggled while Laxus glanced about, checking it seemed for listening ears before speaking again.

"My muscles," he told her in confidence, "are still rather tense. Even after last night. Maybe tonight, after dinner-"

"I'll have to come back here afterwards, I suppose," she hummed with a glint in her eyes. "To help Kinana clear out the late night crowd. I could be persuaded to adjust the water to your liking, while I close up."

"Taking the old geezer to dinner was the persuasion, demon."

"Laxus-"

"Just count on a late night swim, huh?" He moved to grab his ale then while the woman was distracted by the call of someone on the other side of the bar, complaining about refills. "I'll be leaving on a job again, pretty soon, you know."

"You'll have to." Mira was leaving him then, off to deal with her daily toil. "Me and Master are planning on eating you out of house and home."

"Yeah, well," he sighed softly to himself as he brought the mug up to his lips. "It's what I get for consorting with a demon."

I think Makarov is one of my favorite extra person to add to Mirajane and Laxus, right beside Lisanna.

#Miraxus #Mirajane Strauss #Laxus Dreyar #Makarov Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfcition #Mira #Mirajane #Laxus #Makarov

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all-the-names-are-taken-aaaaa · 4 years

Text

Saving Paris Final Straw

"We head back to Paris tomorrow" Tikki said sadly.

"Yeah we do" Marinette putting the last letter in the last envelope. "China is nice but we have a job." Sliding the envelopes into her bag Marinette moves to hug her dear friend. "We will come back when we defeat howkmoth."

"Hey Claude!" Marinette yells to get the boys attention. She inwardly flinches at how loud her voice got. "Yo Mari what's up" the boy says exactly. "Well it's your birthday today. Allegra said these are your favorite." Marinette does her best to act like her normal self as she hands the box to him. Claude takes the box and pauses for a moment "thanks Mari. Didn't know you did this for the whole school" Marinette laughs "we have a small school and you are kinda new so why not?" Claude made a mental note to ask Allen if Marinette always does these sort of things. Something seems off...

"We should head to class" Marionette points in the direction of her class. "Oh yeah we should thanks again Mari" He says rushing to his class. "Sweet you got a Marinette special!"Allan says almost as soon as Claude enters the room. "Of course he did Nette never forgets a birthday." Allegra states as if it was normal "Happy birthday by the way"

"Wait this is normal? Like I'm not in her class and we aren't friends. How does she even know it's my birthday" Claude asks setting the box on his desk. "Well she is part of the student council so she has basic information on everyone. Like birthdays and allergys. And I asked her one time why she did it. I believe her exact words were "it hurts to be forgotten and a single act of kindness can change everything." Allegra reveals.

"It's not just birthdays dude. If she knows something big has happened good or bad you will find yourself receiving some sort of amazing gift." Allan states and Aurora joins "Yeah when I lost the competition last year she made me a whole outfit to wear to the next competition. I tried to pay her but she refused. When Marc got sick she gave his mom some special soup from her uncle. It made him feel better almost eminently."

"Danm she's amazing." Claude says sitting down. Everyone in the school must have some sort of gratitude or respect for her going so far to help. "Too bad her class does not seem to realize that." Kagami stated with a broken pin in her hand. The entire room goes quiet. Kagami rarely enters conversations before class. The fact she was talking and the angry tone her voice held was not something anyone expected.

Allegra holds a sad look on her face "it is true. At this point I'm scared she will go back to..." Another pin broke. Allan gasped. Aurora made a chocking sound "No way. No way it could get that bad again" Allan then screeched "Hawkmoth that son of-" Kagami throws an eraser at him. "She would do anything for her friends. I have seen her fight off an akuma and manage to keep a butterfly away. I was not able to catch her befor she left as I saw it threw the window." Kagami states looking down. Claude felt even more respect for this girl.

"Look eather way she wouldn't want us having this conversation right now. She would want us to calibrate with Claude." And so they forgot for a while.

An akuma alert rang out around lunch. "My lady may I say you look perrrrfect today" chat says completely ignoring the akuma. "Chat we need to talk once this battle is ove" her voice is so plain no teasing on nothing. Chat nods and the akuma is taken care of quickly.

"Chat... My civilian self has been hurt a lot recently. I nearly became acumatized multiple times. I believe Hawkmoth is targeting me so I-" chat rushes forward to hug her "please don't leave"

Ladybug pushes him away "Chat I can not feel anything. No emotions No pain. It is because of a type of medicine. It only does this to a few but I am one of the few. I have to protect Paris so it had to be done" she swings off befor. Chat can respond.

Marinette sighed as she finishes up some of her commissions. "It is so hard to act it out Tikki. I could not do it as ladybug it would only destact me." Tikki sits on her shoulder nodding sadly. The other kwamis did not take the knees well eather but it was their only choice at this point. Even Plag was considering a new chosen if his did no learn to take things more seriously quickly.

A ring went through the room. "Time for another one." Marinette mumbles picking up the bottle of anxiety meds she used to take so long ago. Marinette has a unique reaction to the meds in that she feels nothing. It's rare and can be fixed by changing meds but Marinette lives in Paris and Paris is under attack by a magical supervillem.

One by one people in the school had special days and were greeted by presents from Marionette. The thing that was different was each presents was accompanied by a letter stating how she felt about the person. Several people were moved to tears by these letters.

"Marc what is wrong?" Aurora notices the look of completely shock and horror. He turns the phone to his classmate who lets out a scream quickly everyone rushes over including Ms. Mendeleiev. As soon as she sees the picture "were is she?" Marc drops his phone "Chloe and Nathaniel bought her to the nurse. She's how you described it Allegra..." Horror spreads through the classroom Kagami leaves not long after. It's silent for a long while... "This is their fault." Allan finely speaks. "Those letters were written befor she started the meds. When did she start the meds again" Aurora whispers. "Befor my birthday she went on that trip" Chaude states.

Allegra moves to the front of the classroom and stands beside Ms. Mendeleiev. "Look we do not know everything but we know Marinette. She would never have gone back on those meds unless she absolutely had too. All we can do is support her. Try to avoid her class we are all too angry. It would only cause problems if we acted right now. Everyone try to stay calm last thing we want is an akuma from this." Allegra takes out some chocolate from the teachers desk and hands it out. One of the ways to avoid akumas is to eat chocolate since it is scientificly proven to make people happy.

Later that day however Aurora overheard a conversation between Mylene and a new girl named who likes to be called Mix.

"Wait if all of the stuff Marinette makes is free then were does the costume money go?" Mix asks while looking over the budgeting from former plays and the current one. "Oh I donate it to charity" Mylene is so excited over explaining the charity that she does not notice the concerned look on Mix face. "I already donated this year's amount-" Mylene is cut of by Mix "but we do not have the costumes yet"

"It will be fine. Marinette can handle it" Mylene responds "Mix could you come help me fix some props" Aurora yells from were she is messing with tangled up Christmas lights. "Yeah no problem" Mix rushes over happy to be out of that situation. "Go along with what I say. We need out of hear quick." Auroror whispers. Mix nods. "Dang these lights are busted let's look for Mr. Bernard." Auroror says loud enough for most of the group to hear. "Yeah let's go" Mix says and they leave quickly.

"Fred Haprèle, my apologies about the abrupt meeting" Mr. Bernard sits down across from the father and daughter.

"It's no problem at all to come assist with anything my daughter may need." The man says.

"Yes well as you know Mylene has taken most of the response ability for costumes. We have a budget so there is always a good few hundred dollars. I have always wondered how she got designer cloths for that price though. I figured she worked out a dill with the maker since is a school event. It appears I was mistaken" Mr. Bernard pauses. How exactly do you tell someone their daughter stole to move up in a charity organizations? Of course Mylene winds up proudly explaining everything was free so she donated the money and moved up so many levels.

"You what?" The man stares at his daughter flabbergasted. "It appears she has also already done so this year as well." Mr Bernard states feeling bad for the mad.

"What the hell Mylene that is not your money to give away! Do not tell me your friend refused the money I have seen your plays. They trusted you with a huge responsibly and you do this" Fred Haprèle yells standing up. Only then does his daughter have the understanding to look ashamed. "But it went to charit-" "no it went were you thought you could gain the most from. We are leaving. Mr. Bernard please call me when it is figured out how much is owed and apologize to Marinette for me. She is the one that makes the costumes she is in the same class as Mylene."

Aurora and Mix later found out Mylene was pulled from Drama club until she could pay everything back. The next day they started planing extra fundraisers so they could afford costumes. Marinette at some point popped by and said she would design them for free but the club refused and eventually settled for whatever they could raise would go to Marinette.

Once the school found out about the drama more than Ms. Mendeleiev class started to distance themselves from the akuma class. Only exceptions being Marinette, Chloe, and, Nathaniel. When Marinette was not in class she was accompanied by people from other classes. They respect Marinette and her class was down right toxic. They tried to trip her regularly and said things under their breath a lot. After so many students expressed their concern for the girl in pink it was a matter of time before she transferred classes. It sucked the other teachers how Caline Bustier tried to fight it saying she was the class representative so she had to stay. Going as far as to try to guilt trip the girl. Too bad she couldn't feel guilt and Lila was all to glad to take the position from her. Some reports were made that day.

Though each class wanted the bluenette in their class it was decided she would transfer into Ms. Mendeleiev class.

"I got back on the meds because Hawkmoth is targeting me because of my strong sympathy." Marinette had long since figured out that they knew and just decided to answer their unasked question. The chalk in Ms. Mendeleiev hand shaped. Kagami created a crack in her desk. Allan popped the bouncy ball he was playing with. Auroror and Alegra stood up to get chocolate quicker then they ever had befor. Claude held his hands together to keep from lashing out. Marinette has been through enough they all thought as she lead them through breathing exsersizes.

That is how an entire school minus the akuma class and Marinette stormed the Agrest mansion after a month of tracking every akuma and documenting Lila working with Hawkmoth. They happily hand over the jewelry and footage to Queen Bee and (Nathaniel) Foxi.

The school watches in amusement as the akuma class falls apart. Marinette does no extra favors for them. Only birthday gifts. Her new friends show her her worth.

"Adrain she was never your everyday ladybug. She is everyone's everyday ladybug. She is the reason Hawkmoth is gone. You are lucky she pulled those favors to make sure people don't think you are like your dad" Chloe snaps. "She what-" Adrian starts. "Oh you idiot do you really think the media would not destroy you if given the chance? MDC is Marinette. A lot of people respect her and owe her a lot. Her word alone could end someone's career yet she chose to protect you and your stupid class. Wish Alya good luck with the lawsuits by the way. The warning ends soon. She she really listen to her lawyer when told to remove posts within 24 hours."

#alya salt #lila salt #marinette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #mlb salt #chloe redemption #good chloe #miraculous salt #bamf marinette #ml quantic kids #adrien salt #miraculous fanfic #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #hbic marinette #hbic marinette au #marinette deserves better #class salt

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

Text

A Place to Belong Chapter 41: The Birds and the Bees

Chapter 40

Read on AO3

Claire spent far too long holding onto Jamie and Fergus for dear life, but it seemed to her they were equally as reluctant to let each other go. So they swayed together, saying nothing, just breathing each other in. At some point, they pulled away, though they all still touched somehow; Jamie and Claire’s hands laced together, Fergus’s hands on Jamie and Claire’s shoulders, Jamie caressing his son’s cheek.

His son.

Christ...his heart felt fit to burst.

“Yer mam tells me ye’re a fine brother,” Jamie said hoarsely. “Ye take good care of our wee lass.”

“Aye, I do,” Fergus said, nodding. “I have always loved her. I can’t remember what it was like to not have her.”

“Oh, and she’s always loved you,” Claire said, caressing his other cheek. “She looks at you like you’ve hung the stars.”

“Knowing you, ye’ve told her ye have,” Jamie teased, and Fergus broke into a teary grin.

“There is...so much to tell you…” Fergus shook his head. “So much I have said to your grave, in my head, in my prayers...but you have not really heard any of it.”

“I’m here now, laddie. There’ll be many years to come fer ye to tell me all of it.” Jamie caressed the boy’s face with both hands, and Claire took the cue to step away for a moment.

“Such a handsome lad ye’ve become.” Jamie’s voice was rough with emotion. He tilted Fergus’s head so that he could press a kiss to his forehead, giving him every ounce of fatherly affection he had held back for eight years.

It’ll never be enough, Jamie thought miserably.

“To bed wi’ ye now, son. I’ve a few things to discuss wi’ yer mother.”

“Aye. Catching up to do.” Fergus elbowed him playfully, and Jamie snorted.

“Fergus!” Claire exclaimed, aghast. She really didn’t know what she expected; she should have known the little imp would make some lewd comment as such. She gave a light tug on one of Fergus’s curls. “Really!”

“Sorry, Maman,” he said, but he winked at Jamie.

“Incorrigible.” Claire gave Fergus a shove. “Both of you.”

“Bonne nuit, Maman.” Fergus bent down to plant an exaggeratedly sloppy kiss on Claire’s cheek, and she rolled her eyes through it all, giving his head a shove as he started strolling away.

“Goodnight, Papa,” Fergus called over his shoulder, then disappeared out of the dining room.

Claire crossed her arms, leaning into her hip, only to be surrounded by Jamie from behind.

“Papa, is it?”

“Hm.” Claire smiled warmly, leaning into him gratefully. “He called you that sometimes, especially when he was little. I told him to call me Maman straight away, and I suppose he...he thought when you came back, you’d be Papa.”

Her voice trailed off until it was a breathy whisper.

“I don’t think he realized at first. That you...wouldn’t. Come back.”

Jamie pressed a reverent kiss to her temple, inhaling the scent of her greedily.

“I think perhaps it hurt him too badly to call you that after a while.” Claire’s throat tightened painfully. “I think it was...easier to reconcile losing his Milord than it would be to lose a father.”

Jamie hummed thoughtfully, sadly.

“But no matter what he called you, you’ve always been his father, Jamie. Just like he said.”

“Aye.” He tightened his grip on her. “I ken.”

They swayed in silence for a while, savoring the warmth of each other’s living bodies, the rise and fall of each other’s chests.

“This Governor…” Claire said after a while. “The man who...got you your freedom.”

“What about him?”

“He really did so out of...complete selflessness? He expected nothing in return?”

“Aye,” Jamie confirmed. “He’s a good man, Sassenach. As I’ve said.”

Claire shifted in his arms so she turned around to face him. “Tell me the truth, Jamie.” She looked him in the eye. “You didn’t...offer. Did you…? Like...before?”

His grip on her shoulders tightened, and her breath hitched in her throat. Perhaps he’d been sparing her before during dinner, not wanting to upset her in front of the entire family.

“Jamie.” Her voice was firm, yet it wavered.

“I did, Claire.”

She felt like she’d been punched in the throat, kicked in the stomach. Jamie had to tighten his grip again to keep her from slipping to the floor, her having gone weak in the knees.

“How could you...how could you do that…? How could you put yourself through that again…?”

“He didna accept, Sassenach.”

“After all that we -- ” She refocused her bleary vision on his face, and she saw the truth in his blue depths. “What?”

“I offered my body to him, and he didna accept.”

A few silent tears dripped down Claire’s face as she gawked at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I knew that he was partial to men by the way he spoke of a friend of his that he’d lost at Culloden. This friend always made his way into conversation when I spoke of you. Didna take much thought to put it together.” Jamie’s tone was attempting to be impartial and indifferent, but Claire could see the struggle on his face.

“I...I feared him, ye ken,” Jamie said, averting his eyes shamefully. “Knowing what I know of him now, I’m ashamed to admit it. But I feared what he was. After the things that bastard put me through.”

Claire ran her hands up the length of Jamie’s arms so that she could rub his shoulders soothingly.

“He kent who I was from the beginning, ye see. His brother told him of the lie he’d told about Red Jamie, and he knew I was no Alexander Malcolm,” Jamie went on. “He managed to have private audience wi’ me to tell me as such. Somehow the game of chess came up in conversation. And before I knew it, I was playing chess wi’ the man who held me prisoner.

“There were...rumors. Lord Grey’s predilections were no secret. I beat a fellow prisoner so senseless I almost killed him when he so much as implied that the Governor was...rogering me behind closed doors.”

Another tear slipped over Claire’s nose, and she wrapped her arms around his middle, kissing his sternum, as if to give his heart the strength to go on.

“He could have, Claire. He could have had his way wi’ me. He could so easily have been another Randall. He had every means necessary to get away wi’ it.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No. Never so much as asked. I could feel the way he looked at me...like I always felt the way you looked at me. So I knew that he...wanted me. But he never had me. I thought maybe he was afraid of the shame his fellow officers could have brought upon him.

“But then...the prison was being closed, all the prisoners sold as indentured servants to the colonies. I...I nearly went mad, Claire. The thought of being so far away from ye, veritably sold into slavery, no means of ever getting back to ye...I was desperate. So our last meeting...I offered.”

“Jamie…”

“I begged him to have his way wi’ me to buy my freedom. Those other men...they’d lost everything in the rising. They were dead men walking. But I...I had something to hold onto fer eight years...and I was about to lose it. I’d rather have suffered any indignity than face the thought of being parted from ye forever. So I told him. I told him I was at his mercy.”

“You damned fool!” Claire whispered miserably into his sark. “How could you offer such a thing…?”

Jamie actually chuckled. “John may as well have said the same thing. He seemed more than offended that I thought he’d even consider. He laughed, even. ‘That I should live to hear such an offer,’ he said.

“Then, Claire...I swear I thought I’d died and gone to Heaven. He told me he’d already pulled the strings to grant me my freedom.” Claire pulled away to look up at him, having heard his voice become hoarse with emotion. “I was prepared to whore myself out and he...he’d already given me the greatest gift wi’out expecting anything in return.”

“Oh, love…” Claire caressed his face. “As much as I want to bloody throttle you for even putting yourself in that position...I am relieved that this man wanted nothing to do with it.”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell ye, Sassenach. He’s a good, honorable man. He did all he did fer me out of...friendship.”

Claire was so overcome with relief that she kissed him soundly, and he eagerly responded.

“I wish I could thank him,” Claire said softly. “For...for all of it.”

“Ye can,” Jamie said. “Part of the agreement of my release was that he makes regular visits to the estate to ensure I remain a loyal subject to the Crown.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “The story he gave was that I was a puir cotter forced into fighting upon threat of harm to my wife, that I couldna fully be blamed fer my actions. As Mister Malcolm, of course.”

“Bloody hell,” Claire exchanged. “He completely bent over backwards to set you free, Jamie.”

“Apparently that family takes a debt of honor quite seriously.” He tenderly kissed her forehead. “So now, Lord John Grey, former Governor of Ardsmuir Prison, is to check in once a quarter wi’ the derelict Alexander Malcolm wherever he has decided to find work. Which just so happens to be as a farmhand at Lallybroch estate.”

Claire shook her head in disbelief. “And nobody finds it suspicious that the redheaded Mister Malcolm has decided to settle down on Red Jamie’s family land?”

“If they did, John would have a thing or two to say about it,” Jamie assured. “He’s got his superiors fully convinced that I’m exactly who I say I am. Red Jamie has been dead fer eight years in the eyes of the Crown.”

“It’s unbelievable...what about all the Redcoat Captains that have been harassing us for years? They’re convinced I’m the traitorous English wife, that Brianna is your demon offspring…”

“Those officers willna be around much longer if John has anything to say about it.”

She shook her head again. “It’s like he’s waved a magic wand and made all of our troubles disappear.”

“I dinna ken about magic wands, Sassenach,” Jamie clasped his hands on the small of her back, pulling her closer. “But it certainly feels as if all is right in the world again.”

Claire kissed him gratefully, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“Once a quarter, hm?” she said between kisses. “You’d better tell Jenny that.”

Jamie grunted in annoyance in the back of his throat. “Dinna speak of my sister while I’m kissing ye like this, Sassenach.”

Claire laughed a bubbly laugh that melted into a delicious moan, and Jamie swallowed it as his tongue probed the inside of her mouth. The kiss deepened, and Claire began feeling dizzy, every inch of her coming to life in a blazing fire.

“Mummy?”

They pulled away from each other like they’d just been burned, and Claire choked on a startled gasp.

“Hello, darling,” she stammered, her voice thin and high pitched. She could feel the heat of Jamie’s blush radiating off his body. “Is everything alright?”

“Fergus already gave me my kiss,” Brianna said. She was standing in the doorway in her nightgown and bare feet, holding Jehu in both arms. “I waited for you to come in, but you didn’t. So I came to find you.”

Claire forced a light chuckle, leaving Jamie’s side to kneel in front of her. “I’m sorry, lovie. Your Da and I were talking about something important.”

“Talking?” Brianna challenged, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Yes, well…” She threw a glance back to Jamie, who looked like he was trying not to burst with laughter. “We were talking. We got a little...off topic.”

Brianna blinked mutely at her, and Jehu licked his own nose and gave a little snuffle.

“You know that...married people kiss, don’t you, Brianna?” Claire said.

“Aye,” Brianna said, almost sounding offended that anyone would ask such a thing. “Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian kiss at midnight on Hogmanay. But they dinna look like that.”

Jamie did make a noise, then, a veritable snort, and Claire shot him a dangerous look.

“Right, well…” Claire made a mental note to tease Jenny about the absurdity of her niece only witnessing affection between her aunt and uncle one time out of the year. “At Hogmanay, there’s a whole room full of people. Kisses in private are just a little bit different.”

“You weren’t kissing in private, Mummy. I was right here.”

Jamie laughed out loud.

“For Christ’s sake, Jamie!” Claire snapped over her shoulder, but as she turned back to Brianna, her facade melted away, and she started laughing as well.

“What’s funny?” Brianna demanded.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Claire said. “We’re not laughing at you, I promise. Your father is a ridiculous human being.”

Brianna looked back and forth between both of her parents as if trying to decipher what the joke was, but came up short.

“I promise we’ll be more careful about being private next time. Alright?”

“Alright,” Brianna agreed, but her brow was still furrowed skeptically.

“Let’s get you to bed now.” Claire stood. “Would it be alright if...if Da joined us to say goodnight?”

Brianna looked around Claire at Jamie, then back up at Claire, and she nodded.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Claire turned Brianna around by the shoulders and began gently pushing her along. Jamie was upon them almost immediately, no longer laughing at all.

He was joining his wife to put their daughter to bed.

It was beyond anything he’d ever dreamed he’d have.

He followed behind Claire, who trailed behind Brianna as she bounced up two flights of stairs, muttering in nonsense-Gaelic to Jehu, who panted with contentment in her arms. They reached her bedroom, and Kitty sat straight up in bed when they arrived.

“Sorry, Kitty,” Claire said. “We’ll be out in a bit. Go back to sleep.” Claire crossed the room to kiss her forehead and gently push her back into her pillows. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“G’night, Auntie.” Kitty pulled her blanket up to her chin, and then looked around Claire. “G’night, Uncle Jamie!”

She was attempting a whisper, but addressing her long-lost uncle that had come to be somewhat mythical in her young mind was far too exciting, so it came out hoarse and just a bit too loud.

“Aye,” Jamie said awkwardly, waving at her. “G’night, lass.”

She giggled a bit, pulling the blanket up higher, under her eyes. Brianna put Jehu down and he settled in at the corner of her pillow as he always did. Brianna climbed in after him, and Claire sat on the edge of the bed. She looked up at Jamie and took his hand, and he slowly crouched down beside the bed so that he was level with Claire.

“It’s been...quite an exciting day, hasn’t it?” Claire said, and Brianna nodded. “I know it’s…a lot to process, your father being here. Are you doing alright?”

Brianna nodded again. “I’m fine, Mummy.”

“Alright. If you ever have any questions, or you’re feeling uneasy, you can talk to me. You know that, don’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Good. Good girl.” Claire cupped her cheek.

“I’m, uh...I’m here fer ye to talk to as well, lass. If ye like,” Jamie said hesitantly. “Ye dinna have to, of course. Only if ye’re comfortable.”

“Alright,” Brianna said warmly. “I like talking to you, Da.”

Jamie laughed softly, feeling warmth spread from head to toe. He squeezed Claire’s hand tighter, and she reciprocated. “I like talking to you too, m'annsachd.”

“Good.” Brianna nodded curtly, and both of her parents chuckled.

“Alright. Kisses,” Claire said, leaning in with puckered lips. Jamie’s heart felt fit to burst watching them peck each other lovingly on the lips. “Goodnight, baby. I love you.”

“Love you.”

Jamie thought Brianna might just nestle into her pillow, but she turned to look at him expectantly. He chuckled again, feeling tears burning behind his eyes. He cupped the back of Brianna’s head and pressed his lips reverently to her forehead, breathing her in, cherishing her.

“Goodnight, Brianna.”

“G’night, Da.” She pecked him on the cheek, and Jamie squeezed Claire’s hand so hard he thought it might fall off. Claire kissed his cheek as well, cupping the other one lovingly. The three of them sat there for a moment, just taking each other in, just being. Jamie watched as Claire tenderly brought Brianna’s blanket up higher and brushed her hair back.

“We’ll see you in the morning.”

Brianna smiled sleepily, and Jehu nuzzled into the crook of her neck. Claire stood up and began walking out of the room with Jamie’s hand in hers, but was met with resistance. She turned back around, her heart breaking at what she saw.

Jamie could not take his eyes off of Brianna, whose eyes were now closed. His hand was hovering over her hand, trembling like a leaf. It came down to rest on her curly head, and he exhaled with a heavy shudder, closing his eyes. Claire crouched down beside him, and then she paused, hearing him whisper in Gaelic. He was praying over her.

Claire rested her cheek on his shoulder and listened to the soothing tones of his prayer, wrapping her arms around his bicep and stroking him soothingly. His prayer ceased, and Claire looked up at him.

“She’ll still be there tomorrow, love,” she whispered.

Jamie nodded tearfully, swallowing so that Claire could see his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Look,” Claire whispered, cocking her head toward Brianna.

“She smiles in her sleep,” she said. “Just like you.”

Jamie let his fingertips trail down her face, his touch light as a feather, and his pointer finger brushed over the corner of her upturned lips. Her lip twitched at the contact, the smile widening, her head unconsciously turning toward his touch.

“I could watch her sleep fer hours…” Jamie whispered hoarsely.

“I know. I always felt that way when she was a baby. I still do sometimes.”

Claire gave him a moment in silence, waiting until he was ready. He cleared his throat after a moment, and then crossed himself. Claire gave his hand a squeeze, grounding him, giving him the strength to get up and leave his daughter’s side.

“She’ll still be there tomorrow,” Jamie said, confirming it.

“She will.”

With a curt nod and a visual sweep of the room (as if double checking for danger as an ingrained behavior) Jamie made for the door, gently pulling Claire behind him. Claire shut the door as quietly as humanly possible, and when she turned around, she was immediately and abruptly met with Jamie’s hands on her face and his lips on hers. She whimpered in shock, but then melted into him, threading her arms around his neck. He probed her lips with his tongue and she greedily accepted, whimpering again, this time for a much different reason.

Jamie pulled away far too quickly, and Claire was breathless.

“What was that for…?”

“Fer creating that beautiful child.”

Overcome, Claire kissed him again. “You created her too, Jamie.”

“Oh, aye, I’m well aware.”

He swallowed her again, and Claire felt that unmistakable hardness against her hip. Something ignited within her, something left dormant for far too long. She lapped at the inside of his mouth, becoming desperate. She pulled herself ever closer to him, and she had to physically restrain herself from gyrating her hips to relieve the pressure building between her legs.

Jamie abruptly pulled away again, his lips -- swollen and pink from Claire’s assault -- quirked into a smug grin.

“Not here, mo nighean donn.”

He took her hand, kissing it chivalrously, as if he hadn’t just had his tongue down her throat, and then he pulled her behind him toward the stairs.

Every step on the staircase had Claire’s heart hammering faster and louder. Every step was a step closer to her bedroom, a place where she was absolutely certain of what was to come. By the time they reached the bottom, she could hardly feel her legs, and the floor felt like it was tipping beneath her. Her mouth was dry, swallowing was painful.

Jamie paused at the door, turning back to grin at her before opening it and pulling her in after him. Claire was trembling from head to toe, most of all her hands, and she attempted to steady them on the door. She deliberately took longer than she should have to close the door, terrified to turn around and find what awaited her.

She knew he’d be looking at her with fire in his eyes, and she knew she’d be powerless to resist him if she didn’t slow down. Her heartbeat was pulsing in her temples, and she was warm. Everywhere. She took a deep, stuttering as she pushed the door shut, steeling herself for the conversation that they needed to have before anything continued.

Christ, she was terrified.

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lady-o-ren · 4 years

Text

THE BRIDE

A/N: Ok. I lied. I thought I had to sacrifice the Jamie and Claire threads but really I just chopped the St. Germain one (much heavier in the disciples du mal thingy and witchcraft). Anyway this is a pinch of acotar and some bits from DOA too at the end. There will be mistakes!

______

The bride paces anxiously in her windowless chambers, trampling over the ripped and scattered remains of a once delicate veil. She wears no wedding gown. Has fed it to the hearth fire where the gold silk threads and embroidered pearls ignite the stonewalls in a hellish glow.

She is betrothed to the notorious nobleman The Comte St. Germain. A man of exquisite elegance and roguish charm that many girls can only dream of marrying. But she isn't fooled.

She knows the depths of treachery that dwells in his breast and of the company he keeps that terrorize the dark corners of the city streets of Gaul. That all he wants from her is a woman to serve him on hand and knee, a body and soul to own.

And he has tried to. Bruising her throat and ribs. But she too has marked him ugly and bloody - gouging him from face to chest, her knee rammed between the crux of his thighs. It brings a half grin to her face.

But then she hears the ominous sound of a key sliding into the lock of the lone arched door. She stiffens like a hunted doe, bleeding her bottom lip in wait, until she hears the key jamming, breaking in two.

She shrieks with hysterical laughter if only to know that she can breathe again, clutching her aching sides as she does so. The Comte hears her and pounds the door with his fists as his threats fall loud and rabid.

He wants to bind her arm and foot. Shatter her bones beneath his boots. He wants to belt her flesh raw, slap and bite her pretty face. Wants to -

Her laughter chokes with bile, and her lily-white hands press painfully hard against her tender lips, as she wills herself to calm.

She'll be faster, smarter, more ruthless than he. She'll throw him in the fire to roast black like the swine he is, herself too if she must. She'll -

She's barely caught her breath when the fire in the hearth dwindles to sapphire embers, illuminating the chamber like the belly of a twilight sea. The bride's heart leaps to her throat, throbbing with every skittering, piercing beat, as the stones of the hearth quake and unravel, parting for a cloaked figure to step through the impossible opening.

A silky mist whispers over him coming from the dark chasm behind and he lifts the dark green hood from his face revealing, undoubtedly, by the soft curve of his ears, a Fae Lord.

He looks as if he's flown on a thundercloud to find her, his mane wild and dark as elk's blood that ripples down the broad strength of his shoulders like the great tides of the sea. His eyes like the sickle moon are near black with ire as they linger on the iridescent bloom of bruises on her flesh and the thinness of the chemise she wears. But when his gaze meets hers they glimmer with startling tenderness and passion, and a love that burns brighter than the blue flames now writhing at his feet.

The Lord's voice is low and ragged from unbridled emotion when he speaks yet he manages to smile wryly, "Should'a bride of such beauty be mournin' on her wedding day?"

She'd forgotten how deeply she could hate him. Love him. All at once. That - That -

"You - you - Oh, Jamie!" She throws herself in her only beloved's arms that grip her just as fiercely, and he cries, "Claire, mo chridhe," into her curls, long and lovely as a willow's leaves.

She soaks in his warmth and strength that wraps around her like a shield, breathing in the scent of him - balsam trees and dewy grass, sun-warmed skin that tastes of woodsmoke and spring rain, and the pungent muskiness of exhaustion as he trembles to the bone with relief.

"How?" She mouths against his chest heaving strong as a bellow beneath her cheek.

He nuzzles softly at her crown, hands soothing warmth down her back then shoulders, holding her slightly away.

"Our hearts are forever bound to one another, I've told ye so before."

The night they met when he first made her laugh and she dared to kiss him along the glittering Seine.

"I could feel yer despair, thought maybe ye were feeling the same pain as I. Regret for how we parted when ye told me ye loved me nae more." He squeezes her shoulders, knowing how she lied but not why. "But I felt it grow weaker day after day, and kent it must be something more. I ken ye told me to leave ye be but I thought ye were dying, my love. I couldna keep away."

Tears gloss her eyes as she bows her head ashamed, so quietly she says, "I thought you wouldn't. I meant to make you hate me."

"Never," he affirms, lifting her chin. "I shouldna have let my temper get the better of me, to keep me from yer side. If I hadn't -"

His mouth tightens as he brushes his knuckles down her cheek, gently thumbing her swollen bottom lip.

He wants to kiss the blood away, the blight that colors her skin. Wants to love her till there's nothing left of them but a single soul. . .

But the door is finally forced open and he comes face to face with the Comte St. Germain.

The Fae Lord erupts with rage violent and luminous as a lightning bolt, cracking the stones that encircle them all, as he claws at the air and twists his wrist. The Comte stupidly, desperately, reaches for the iron forged rapier strapped to his waist, beseeching the protection of the wickedly divine that he's pledged his soul to, but instead of deliverance, he's sent flying into the far wall.

His bones shatter with a sickening crunch as blood and strangled screams sputter from his mouth.

"That's enough," Claire says in a moment of pity to her Lord, and with tremendous effort, she pulls him away, leaving the wretched Comte St. Germain gasping for air alone in the cold dark as the walls that he imprisoned her within collapse.

Claire's brought to a small clearing just as dawn slowly breaks across the big sky, a hazy plume of dark grey and lavender, and the barest hint of golden sunlight. The wind is chilly and tugs at her hair but she savors its biting caress that shudders down her spine, intoxicating her lungs. She walks enjoying the feel of the tall grass tickling her fingertips and the dirt soft beneath her bare feet, but she finds a gaping absence at her side.

She glances over her shoulder where Jamie trails behind, watching her with trepidation as an aching question whispers from his mouth.

"Will ye run off again, mo nighean donn? Is this the last I'll see of ye?"

She wraps her arms around herself, curls whisking like dandelion seeds across her lashes and cheeks.

"I didn't run, Jamie."

"Ye did," he reproaches softly, not wanting another fight. "Like a thief in the night with my heart. I gave ye all of me gladly and forever will -"

"But I can't promise you the same." Her bleeding heart lodges thick in her throat and the truth of it all comes pouring out. "Maybe a few decades, a blink in the eye to you, before I wither to decay, and you still beautiful as the day we met."

"That's what's been troublin' ye?" His face is serious, but one corner of his mouth curls up irrepressibly.

"Don't you laugh!" She says furiously.

"I think I will," Jamie smiles widely, and takes a step toward her meaning to kiss the foolishness from her vexing mouth but she takes a step back. He raises an auburn brow daring her to move away from him again and she thrusts her defiant chin high and kicks her left heel back.

What comes next is a flurry of limbs and grunts that leaves Claire breathless with her slender wrists pinned above her head and chrysanthemums crushed in her hair. Her eyes dark as black amber glare into his.

"God's, you are a stubborn wee thing," Jamie admires through his mounting frustration, himself mangled with dirt and grass.

"And you weigh more than a bloody damn bear!" She pants and wriggles beneath him, trying to ignore the spikes of heat rushing through her veins where he's pressed solid and unyielding against her.

"Now get off!"

"Not until ye hear me out, wee besom!"

"What more can be said? Nothing can be done! Love isn't magic, it won't keep the years from taking me from you."

Jamie's face catches fire in the growing morning light, and moves their hands to press hard on the swell of his breast beating the same raw rhythm as hers.

"So long as my body lives, so will yours, mo ghraidh. Though I think ye'd look just as bonny touched like starlight, the years no matter how few, around yer golden eyes. But ye must know," his words fall heavily and he feels her pulse at her wrist give a lurching thump. "That when my body shall cease, yours will as well. It could be this day, tomorrow, maybe centuries or more. The only consequence when ye make a blood vow with a fae."

She blinks up at him, thrumming like a viola. "A blood vow?"

His lips curl shyly and his breath warm as melted butter brushes hers. "It's done when my kind find their mates. A sacred, unbreakable vow that binds two souls in this life and after."

"Like marriage?" She blushes and smiles, the first in so very long, looking lovelier than she ever has to Jamie.

"Aye." He answers simply, low and husky, and finds his courage in three soaring heartbeats.

"My Lady, my Claire, will ye have me as your husband? To serve ye, worship ye, wi' all that I am?"

Tears begin to fall again though she's beaming with joy, tangling her fingers in Jamie's mane as he claims a loving long kiss down the trail of each one.

When he hovers above her lips, they brush his in answer.

"Well I am wearing white."

"Ye won't be wearing a thing if ye say I do."

#...i tried writing something a little different #jamie x claire #outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #the bride

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

Silent Night, Scales & Fights

✩ AO3 Link Here!

✩ Relationships: jinmin (Jimin x Jin)

✩ Genre/Universe: smut, angst

✩ Rating: Explicit

✩ Tags: smut, angst, child abuse, physical abuse, assault, homophobia, violence, blood, implied minor character death, family drama, spousal abuse, Naga!Jin, tentacle monster!Jin, soulmate au, double penetration, belly bulge, come inflation, toys, subdrop, subspace, blood, tentacles,bottom!Jimin, top!Jin, bottom Jimin

✩ Summary: Jimin decides that Christmas is the perfect time for his family to meet his soulmate. The only problem? His abusive father.

✩ Word Count: ~10.2k

✩ A/N: IThis fic fills the square Pumpkin Pie for @btsholidaybingo. This fic is a sequel to Shared Souls & Snake Scales, published earlier in 2020. You may want to read that one first; there are some small things that are important to know in that one.

“We really don’t need to do this,” Jimin said for the fifth time as they drove along the snow dusted street.

“You’re my soulmate, Minie,” Jin said patiently. He reached over and set his hand on Jimin’s thigh. “I want to do this. I want to know your family.”

Jimin shifted in the seat, sighing. He and Jin had been together for nearly a year, and Jimin had done his best to keep Jin away from his family. Not that he was ashamed of Jin – on the contrary, they were soulmates, and Jin’s magical nature was easily hidden.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you about them, Jin.”

“Do they not know you’re gay?”

“They know, unfortunately,” Jimin said. “My mom’s not too bad. She tries to be supportive. But my dad…”

“He doesn’t approve. Will me being there cause problems? I can stay back.”

“No, I think you not showing up would cause more problems,” Jimin admitted. “I already prepared them, told them I found my soulmate, that you were a boy.”

“Will they ask to see your tattoo?”

“Maybe. We’ll just go with the same story we tell everyone else, you’re weird and love sea creatures of a tentacled variety.”

“They are cute,” Jin defended. Jimin laughed, glancing over at him.

“They are.”

“You still seem tense. Tell me about your father.”

“It’s not a pleasant history,” Jimin said. From the corner of his eye he saw Jin shift, the smile drooping off his handsome face.

“Did he hurt you, Jimin?”

Jimin bit the inside of his lip. “He didn’t like that I like boys. Doesn’t – But he doesn’t try to change me anymore.”

“Change you?”

Jimin looked over at a stoplight. “Physically.”

“Jimin, he didn’t—Touch you—”

“No, no—Not like that,” Jimin corrected. “He was pretty good friends with a belt back then. And the Bible. Those things hurt when they’re hurled at your head,” Jimin chuckled. “A lot of verbal damage. It wasn’t a pleasant time at home for a while after I came out.”

“How long did it last?” Jin’s voice was soft.

“I realized I liked boys when I was about fourteen… I came out right away because I was scared and confused and didn’t know if I was broken. My dad pretty much confirmed I was.”

“You’re not broken, Minie.” Jin reached over and set his hand on Jimin’s on the wheel. “You aren’t.”

“I know that now. I’ve had years to reason with myself and get used to it. My dad… He doesn’t do that anymore.”

“So he’s accepted it?” “I wouldn’t go that far. But I don’t get books thrown at my head, so…” Jimin shrugged. “I’m telling you this because I know things might be tense at the table, especially if Dad starts asking you things or coming at you. I want you to know where he’s coming from, so you don’t feel badly. He’s just not a friend of… Our kind of people.”

“I won’t let him hurt you again, Jimin. I swear on my life that I won’t,” Jin said with enough sharpness that Jimin looked over, surprised to see a shimmer of his scales across his nose.

“Breathe,” Jimin said quickly.

They’d learned over the months together that – while Jin could usually easily hide his true form, strong emotions – especially those related to the monster in him like anger and fear – tended to bring it out, like a slipping mask. Jimin could usually calm him, thankfully, but it was a concern.

Jin took a deep breath, his face returning to normal. He nodded and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jimin parked and leaned over, pulling Jin into a deep kiss. “I’m so happy to have someone that loves me enough to get angry for me. I love you.”

“I love you, Jimin,” Jin whispered against his lips. He got out of the car and Jimin followed, stopping at the trunk to grab the gifts they’d brought for Jimin’s family.

They stood at the doorstep for a moment.

“You ready?” Jimin asked.

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Then I am too. Just…” Jin closed the gap between them and pressed a deep kiss to Jimin’s mouth, cupping his cheek as he did.

The door creaked open suddenly, and Jimin jumped back gasping. He smiled sheepishly at his father, who stood in the doorway, large and imposing.

“Get inside before the neighbors see that,” he hissed, grabbing Jimin’s shoulder and yanking him in.

Jin followed close after, his mouth set in a fine line.

“Sorry, Dad,” Jimin whispered. He bowed to his father politely. “Uh… This is my soulmate, Kim Seokjin. Jin, this is my father, Park Sungmin.”

Jin bowed politely, offering a broad smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Sungmin’s eyes narrowed. He looked Jin up and down. He grunted softly and turned, walking into the sitting room. Jimin looked down, embarrassment coloring his cheeks a bright pink. Jin touched his neck, thumb soothing over the soulmate tattoo hidden by his turtleneck.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

“Yeah,” Jimin looked up, offering a smile he hoped was convincing. “Come on, my mother is probably in the kitchen.” He grabbed Jin’s hand and led him through the sitting room, not missing the glare his father gave at their connected hands.

“Mom?” Jimin said when he was in the doorway of the kitchen. The food smelled delightful, and his mother was hard at work in the kitchen with his grandmother. She turned when he said her name, grinning. “Jiminie,” she cooed, rushing up and giving him a hug. Jimin’s smile faded as she approached. He hugged back tightly, then pushed her back gently, touching her cheek lightly. Even in the soft lighting, he could see a dark bruise over her cheekbone, covered as well as she could with makeup. She winced.

“Mom… How did this happen?”

“You know how clumsy I am. Is it not covered well, I can fix it in a moment. How have you been?”

Jimin pouted a little. She was lying, and he knew it, but causing a fuss would do no good. “I’ve been good. Getting good grades, being social, just like you want. Mom, this is my soulmate. This is Kim Seokjin.” He stepped aside, allowing Jin to step forward. “This is my mother, Park Jiwoong.”

He tilted his head a little at her before offering a huge smile and bowing low.

“I’m honored to meet you, ma’am. I see now where Minie got his beautiful features.”

Jimin smiled shyly. Jiwoong laughed a little.

“Flattery will get you nowhere in this house, Kim Seokjin… Except maybe here.” She reached over and grabbed a small piece of dessert bread, passing it to Jin. He grinned broadly, taking it with both hands.

“Thank you, I’m honored to be accepted into your home this holiday season.”

“Well, any friend of Jimin’s is welcome here… Especially a soulmate. I hope you’ll forgive me, I’ve had a long time to accept Jimin’s… Nature. But it is a bit startling, seeing the person he’ll be with forever.”

“That I’m a man?” Jin asked softly. She nodded. Jin nodded as well. “In our culture, our world, I can understand the difficulty. But Jimin and I share a soul, he’s a part of me. Regardless of our sex or gender – I would never let anyone hurt him. I support him and honor him in the same way that a girlfriend or wife would, and I am wholly devoted to him and his happiness. I hope that someday you’ll grow to see me easily as his partner.”

Jiwoong smiled gently, reaching out and touching Jin’s wrist. “Your honesty is refreshing. You seem like a very good man, especially for my Jiminie. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go touch up my makeup.” She slid past the two and disappeared down the hallway.

“This the boyfriend?” Jimin’s grandmother croaked. He grinned and rushed up to hug her.

“It is. How have you been, gramma? How’s your arthritis?”

“I’m fit as a fiddle and don’t you forget it.” She poked Jimin’s nose gently with her forefinger before looking at Jin. “That was a fine speech you gave my daughter, boy. I hope it’s true. Minie is my only grandchild and I don’t care that you’re strapping and young, I’ll still bend you over my knee and whoop you if I hear you made my boy cry.”

Jin’s smile was blinding. He laughed and nodded. “I expect nothing less, ma’am.”

Jimin smiled softly. He reached around his grandmother, grabbing a slice of fruit. She smacked his knuckles lightly with her spoon.

“You wait until dinner.”

Jimin pouted. “I’ve been waiting all day, Gramma. Your cooking is the best part of the holidays.”

She smiled and shook her head. “You’re insufferable, boy.”

“I know.” Jimin popped the slice of melon in his mouth. His smile faded as he chewed. “Gramma… Mom—Is Dad…”

She frowned and nodded. “You know he is.”

“Did it pick up again? Has he been drinking?”

She shook her head. “No more than usual. I think the news…” She glanced over at Jin. “Well… He’s not been too happy. Your Mom loves you. She supports you.”

Jimin nodded, his heart sinking. “Thank you, Gramma. Can we help in the kitchen? Jin’s a great cook.”

“Thank you, but no. You boys go relax. Show him the house. No frisky business before dinner.” She shook her finger playfully and Jimin laughed.

“Never.” He turned to Jin. “Come on, I’ll show you where I grew up. Make sure there’s no monsters in my closet,” he joked. Jin grinned at that.

“Oh, just one second,” Jimin held up a finger and headed down the hall into the sitting room. He put the gifts they’d brought under the small tree with a pile of others, glancing at his father.

“Yes?” He asked when he saw him staring.

“Nothing.”

“Yes, there is, I know that look.” Jimin rose and looked directly at him. “Say what you need to say.”

“Don’t be snappy with me, Jimin.”

“I’m not. I’m being direct. You’ve been glaring since we arrived. Am I not welcome here?”

“You are.” Sungmin turned and looked back to the television.

“Is Jin welcome here?”

“He’s not my family.”

“He’s my soulmate. My partner. The man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”

Sungmin snorted. He sipped his beer. “Unnatural.”

“We have a mark,” Jimin pressed. “It’s not unnatural. It’s our souls.”

“That’s all bullshit anyway.”

“Not for me, Dad. Seokjin treats me right. He loves me. Isn’t that what should matter to you?”

“No, what matters to me is the shame you bring the family being a faggot.”

Jimin closed his eyes, sighing. “Well you don’t need to take it out on Mom. It’s not her fault.”

“Well it’s not mine!”

“It’s nobody’s fault, Dad. It’s just how I am. So if you have to take it out on someone it should be me, not her.”

“She’s my wife,” Sungmin growled.

“That doesn’t mean she deserves your abuse.”

Sungmin rose, stepping up to Jimin. He was tall enough that Jimin had to look up a little at him, something he’d always hated.

“Don’t you dare.”

Jimin set his jaw. “Get out of my face, please.”

“Or what? You’ll sic your dirty soulmate on me?” He snarled.

“Jin isn’t a part of this. Dad, please. It’s Christmas. Don’t do this.”

“You’re the one that brought this on. We’d be fine if you weren’t a freak.”

Jimin lowered his gaze, nodding. “I know. That’s why I’m asking you to please… If you have to hurt someone, do it to me, not Mom.”

The strike wasn’t entirely unexpected, but still stung. It was open handed, leaving a burn on Jimin’s cheek as his head snapped to the side. Involuntary tears welled in his eyes. “I’m going to walk away now,” Jimin whispered.

“I wish you’d walk off a cliff. You brought so much horror to this family,” Sungmin snarled.

“I know, Dad.” Jimin bowed and slipped past his father, hurrying back toward the kitchen.

Jin was leaning on the counter, laughing with Jimin’s grandmother when he entered. Jimin’s mood immediately lifted, seeing the two get along so well. Jin glanced over, and his smile dropped immediately. He rushed up to Jimin and tilted his chin up, examining where Jimin was struck, likely a vibrant red if the warmth in that spot was any indicator. Jin’s eyes glinted a dangerous purple, his lips peeling back.

“No,” Jimin whispered.

“He hit you didn’t he?” Jin hissed. Jimin nodded.

“It was my fault. I got in his face. Told him to stop hitting Mom. I’m okay.”

“You aren’t,” came a soft voice behind him. Jiwoong entered and hugged Jimin gently. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“He hit you.”

“He has for a while, baby. It just increased a little after…” She glanced at Jin and shrugged, looking back at Jimin. “I have a secret, okay? I was going to wait until after the holidays to tell you… I’m getting a divorce and moving back to Busan. I know it’ll be farther from you, and I’m sorry for that, but I need to leave. I need to leave so you and I can both be safe.”

“Are you sure, Mom?”

She nodded. “I haven’t loved him for a long time. The only good he ever did was giving me you.” She stroked Jimin’s cheek. “Promise not to say anything?”

“Never. If you need anything – a place to stay or anything, please tell me. Jin and I will do whatever we can.”

Jin nodded. “Of course. You and your mother,” he motioned to Jimin’s grandmother. “You both have our full support.”

Jiwoong smiled and squeezed Jin’s shoulder. “You seem like a good boy for Jimin. Make sure he doesn’t do silly things like this anymore.” She brushed the red mark on Jimin’s cheek.

“I’ll do my best.”

She pressed a kiss to Jimin’s forehead. “Now, go relax before dinner, okay? It’ll be done soon. Are you two staying over?”

“We’d planned to, as long as we’re welcome.”

“We have a spare room set up for you, Jin. I know you likely sleep together but with his father…”

“No, I entirely understand,” Jin said, nodding. “One night apart won’t be total agony.” He brushed Jimin’s hair back, and Jimin grinned, that all too familiar tingling flutter starting from his soulmate mark and rippling down his spine.

“Come on, let me show you around,” Jimin said, taking Jin’s hand tightly. He pulled him out of the room and down the hall, moving fast past the sitting room and up the stairs.

Once at the top, he slowed down. “Here’s my room,” he said, pushing at a half closed door. It was the same way it had been when he still lived there, decorated with musical stars and dancers, painted a soft blue and purple. The bed was large and comfy, and Jimin knew his mother likely had just washed and fluffed the pillows. He pulled Jin in and shut the door, kissing him hard.

Jin gasped, pulling back. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin admitted. “I just… Need you.”

“You heard your gramma, no funny stuff before dinner,” Jin teased, thumbing Jimin’s nose playfully. Jimin laughed.

“Of course not. Just… Kiss me until I—” Jimin smiled. “Just hold me.”

Jin shut the door and wrapped his arms tightly around Jimin. Jimin’s eyes slipped shut. By now, he could almost sense the change as if it were his own body, the quiet shift and creak of Jin’s bones, the raspy, whispering rustle as his scales shifted into place, the feeling of both cool and warm as Jin’s torso wrapped completely around Jimin, encasing him in the smooth oil slick of his snake form. Jimin let himself relax into the coil, listening to Jin’s strong heartbeat. Jin coiled as tight as he dared to, a safety blanket for Jimin when he was having a rough day.

He looked up at Jin, smiling softly. “Thank you.”

“Baby,” Jin cooed. One of his tentacles darted out, sliding over Jimin’s cheekbone like the caress of a lover. Jimin giggled a little, reaching up and grabbing it. He squeezed gently, letting the suckers move up his arm and around him, a third appendage to hold him in a hug.

“Why did you confront him, Minie?” Jin asked softly.

“He’s hitting Mom. I can’t let that slide.”

“And him hitting you is better?”

“Than my Mom? Yeah.”

“No. Both are wrong. Neither of you deserve it.”

“I know. But she’s getting away from him and I—I have you now.”

“I’ll always keep you safe, Jimin. No matter what needs to be done.”

“I know.” Jimin kissed Jin’s mouth gently. He let himself relax further, resting his head on the uppermost coil of Jin’s tail. His legs sagged, knowing Jin would easily hold him up.

The two stayed like that for quite some time, until the turmoil of emotions in Jimin’s mind soothed. Jin remained there completely, kissing over his cheek and neck and shoulder, hands and tentacles touching everywhere they could reach in an effort to soothe Jimin in every way possible.

“I’m okay,” Jimin finally whispered.

“I know you are.”

“You can change back.”

Jin nodded. He shifted once more, scooping Jimin back into his arms when his feet were under him. He kissed him again. “I love you, Minie.”

“I love you too, Jin. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Jin nodded. Jimin opened the door, gasping when he saw his father almost directly next to it. Jin immediately stepped up, ready to move between them if he needed to.

“Why was this door shut?”

“No reason,” Jimin said simply. “I was showing him the posters on the back of it. Mom hasn’t taken them down after all these years.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, it’s the truth. That and we hugged. Nothing funny. Gramma said not to, so I won’t.”

“Oh, she did, huh? You’ll respect her but not the one that owns this house? The one that raised you? I—” Jimin saw his hand forming a fist.

“We’re going now. I want to show Jin the rest of the house.”

“I’m not finished talking to you.”

“Nothing happened, Dad. And nothing will. Please.”

His father glared daggers at him, saying nothing. After a pregnant pause, he stepped out of the way, allowing Jimin and Jin to pass.

Jimin took Jin through the rest of the house, showing him different areas and telling stories of being a child. Every chance they got, Jimin touched, hugged, or kissed Jin as a silent, simple protest against his father. He was so tired of it - of the abuse, of the fear. It was only tolerable this day because he knew his mom was leaving the monster; and because he had Jin to keep him grounded.

They were going through some of Jimin’s old yearbooks up in the attic when his mother called them for dinner. They hurried down, taking their seats side by side at the table. Jimin could feel his father glaring at the both of them.

Jimin rose, helping his mother finish bringing out the food before sitting back down. He heard his father scoff, but ignored it, instead opting to direct his dinner conversation toward his mother; what she’d been doing over the past month, how some of her friends were, etcetera.

It was about halfway through dinner when Sungmin set his utensils down with a clank. “I can’t. Who are you? What makes you think you’re welcome at this table?” His tone was sharp; gaze on Jin.

Jin swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and politely wiped his mouth before setting his own utensils down. He laced his fingers together over his plate and offered a smile that – on the front of it – looked quite polite. Jimin could easily see through it though; Jin was seething.

“You seem to have questions about me. Or perhaps about my relationship with your son. I understand this is new and uncomfortable. But I welcome you with nothing but openness to ask what you need to ask so that you can be more comfortable with my presence.”

Sungmin glared. “Don’t you take that condescending tone with me, faggot.”

Jin blinked, clearly surprised by the slur.

“Sungmin—” Jiwoong whispered.

“No! I don’t understand how you can sit there like this is normal. Like we don’t have freaks at our table.”

“You have your son and his soulmate at the table, Sungmin,” Jimin’s grandmother said. “You recognize the importance of sharing a soul, don’t you?”

“Yeah, right, sure. How do we even know they’re really soulmates?” His tone was mocking, sending a pang of pain through Jimin’s heart. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a lie. Isn’t there some bullshit about tattoos appearing? I see no tattoos.”

“It’s on our backs,” Jimin whispered.

“Likely story.”

Jin cleared his throat. He looked to Jiwoong. “I apologize for asking, but would it be alright if I showed….”

“Yes, of course,” she said.

Jin rose and turned to face the wall, his back to Sungmin. He unbuttoned his shirt halfway, letting it fall from his shoulders just enough to expose his upper back, and the beautiful tattoo imprinted along it. He remained still for a few moments before pulling his shirt back up and rebuttoning it.

“It’s so pretty,” Jiwoong said. “Yours matches, Minie?”

“Yep, it’s the opposite but the same.” Jimin rose and repeated Jin’s actions, turning away from the table and lifting his sweater up until his tattoo was visible.

“Are those tentacles?” Jiwoong asked.

“Mhm, Jin loves sea creatures.” Jimin smiled proudly as he dropped his sweater and turned back around. He sat down and looked at his father. “We have our marks. It’s not a lie. It’s meant to be, simple as that.”

“It’s disturbing. Mark or not. It’s unnatural.”

“Now is not the time, Sungmin,” Jiwoong said firmly.

“You don’t tell me if it is the time or not. This is my house and my table.”

Jimin’s heart sank. He shook his head and rose. “This was a mistake.”

“Jimin,” Jiwoong whispered.

“We shouldn’t have come. We can go.”

“No, you shouldn’t go,” Jiwoong said, glaring when Sungmin huffed. “You’re my son, and you found your soulmate. I’m honored to have you both at my table.” She rose and scooped Jimin into a hug. “Don’t go.”

“Mom… I don’t want to cause trouble for you.”

“Oh, quit bellyaching like this is some horrible house,” Sungmin growled. “Sit your ungrateful ass down and eat the dinner your mother and grandmother have been slaving away to prepare.”

Jimin looked at his mom, who smiled softly and nodded. He took a seat again. Jin reached over under the table, catching his hand and squeezing it firmly, a warm comfort to Jimin. He relaxed a little at Jin’s touch and picked his drink up, sipping it.

The tension at the table was thick and heavy. Despite his insistence on Jimin and Jin remaining, Sungmin continued to glower at them silently throughout dinner. Jiwoong and Jimin’s grandmother did their best to lighten things, asking about Jin’s life and how the two met.

Dinner shifted into dessert, and Sungmin rose from the table without any, citing being sick to his stomach. Jimin knew the reality behind that phrase; the sickness was likely nothing to do with the food and everything to do with him, but tried not to let it bother him. Instead he focused on the people that truly cared about him.

“Well, one less plate to wash after dessert then,” Jimin’s grandmother said. She clapped her hands together. “Jin, you help me get desserts.”

Jin nodded eagerly. He rose and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Jimin’s cheek before heading into the kitchen.

Jiwoong reached over the table and grabbed Jimin’s hand. “I really like him, Jimin.”

Tears welled in Jimin’s eyes. “Really?” He whispered.

She frowned a little. “Why are you crying, baby?”

Jimin laughed a little, coughing back his tears. “This past year with Jin’s been the happiest of my life so far. I wanted nothing more than to share it with you guys. But I was so afraid. I knew Dad and… I knew it was weird for you. I don’t know that you can realize how much that means to me. You just liking him.”

Jiwoong smiled softly. “Come here.” Jimin rose and sank to his knees next to her chair, wrapping his arms around her middle. He buried his face in her stomach, letting himself cry softly as she embraced him, soothing his hair back.

“He’s a part of you, Minie. And it shows. I wondered if soulmates were real, not finding mine – It seems like such a fairy tale. Seeing my son not only find his… But seeing just how beautiful the connection is, how perfect you two fit together… It gives me hope for so much. He’s a good man, Jimin. He loves you and he’s kind and he’s so well spoken. He’s your perfect match. Don’t think I didn’t see the way he was able to soothe your temper. The way just a touch relaxed you or made you smile. I love him too, Jimin. Just one day – and I can say with confidence that I love him and he will always be a part of this family.”

“Thank you,” Jimin whispered, hugging her a little tighter. He pulled back and looked up, laughing a little when she dabbed away his tears with a napkin like she did when he was a child. “Thank you,” he said again.

“Go sit back down now, Jin’s going to panic if you’re weeping when he returns.”

Jimin laughed a little and nodded, rising and heading back to his seat.

Jin and his grandmother returned carrying the desserts, and Jimin hurried to clear off the dinner foods so they could set them down. Jin didn’t miss the moment to steal a kiss from Jimin as he set the pie near to his plate, offering a gentle smile.

“Your eyes are red.”

“Nothing bad,” Jimin promised. Jin nodded and settled back into his seat.

“Do you think we should open gifts tonight or tomorrow?” Jiwoong asked as she dished up desserts for Jimin and Jin.

“Let the kids open one tonight,” Jimin’s grandmother said. She tsked when Jin shook his head no to a slice of pumpkin pie, and Jin only smiled. “I’m quite full from your dinner, I’m okay, I’ll have some of the pudding though,” he conceded.

“We’re okay waiting until tomorrow too,” Jimin offered, taking his plate. “Dad might be in a better mood…”

“Oh, screw him,” Jiwoong said simply. Jimin’s eyes widened of their own volition. His mother – though not entirely timid – was rarely so blunt. “We’ll have dessert then go sit by the tree. You kids can open a gift or two and then we’ll do our gifts in the morning.”

Jimin laughed a little. “We’re in our twenties, Mom. We aren’t exactly excited kids.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jin said, swallowing a spoonful of the sweet chocolate dessert on his plate. “I’m ecstatic about Christmas. It’s such an interesting holiday.”

“Did your family not celebrate?” Jimin’s grandmother asked. Jin shook his head no.

“They were quite conservative and traditional. We didn’t do any sort of Christian celebrations.”

“Buddhist?” Jiwoong assumed. Jin confirmed. “I don’t have a specific religion now, but it was the way I was raised.”

“We’re not too strict here. No religious services. But the giving is nice and we love excuses to see family,” Jiwoong said. “Are you sure you won’t have pie? Surely you’re still hungry.”

Jin shook his head. “I’m okay, I promise. This dinner was delightful.”

“Glad you enjoyed it. I’m sorry for my husband…”

“Don’t be. You can’t control him, and you’re not at fault for his bad behavior. Jimin warned me that he likely wouldn’t be very welcoming. It’s okay.”

“You’re an understanding young man, Jin. What is it you’re doing? Are you going to school with Minie?”

“No. Right now I’m studying to become a chef. I love cooking. So I toil away at home with piles of food while poor Jimin studies his brain to mush.” Jin teased, and Jimin beamed.

“I get to eat all that good food after I get home from school. He’s making me gain weight,” he pouted.

“Good, about time you put on a few pounds,” Jimin’s grandmother scolded without much venom. “Finish your pie.”

“Yes, Gramma.”

“Are you and Jimin living together then?” Jiwoong asked.

“Yes. We moved in together pretty quickly after we met and the soulmate marks appeared. It felt like the right thing to do.”

“And you said you were living next to him?”

Jin nodded. “Yes, very close neighbors. We brushed hands one evening in the hallway and later that week discovered we’d both ended up with marks. Everything after that was a whirlwind.” Jin smiled fondly at Jimin and reached out, swiping a bit of whip cream from the corner of his mouth.

“It’s a fairytale,” Jiwoong said. “And your friends, Minie?”

“Hobi and Tae love him. Tae was concerned for a bit, especially since he’s a bit older than me, but he grew on them.”

“Tae is a good boy. He needs to come with you to visit more often.”

“I’ll tell him you said so. I think Hoseok is going to propose to him soon honestly.”

“Oh that’s lovely. What about you, Jin? You going to propose to Jimin soon?” Jiwoong teased. Jimin groaned, his cheeks pinking up, but Jin grinned.

“Someday.” He said simply.

As the dessert moved forward, tensions lifted more and more. Jimin found himself laughing freely, and the conversation between the four moved along with no awkward pauses. He and Jin helped his mother and grandmother clean up, packaging up the food and portioning some into leftovers that they insisted the boys bring home. The four settled into the living room and Jimin got a fire started in the fireplace.

Jin settled as close as he could to the warmth of the fire; even in human form the cold-blooded nature of his snake side made him seek warmth in any way. Jimin snuggled next to him, relieved that his Mother and grandmother barely blinked at the two’s intimate position. It felt natural and safe. It was just nice.

Jiwoong poured them all a small glass of bourbon, insisting on it as she put on some soft music. They chatted once more, laughing as the alcohol warmed their insides just as much as the fire warmed their outsides.

Jimin’s grandmother insisted they open a few of the gifts under the tree, pressing some boxes into their hands. They each received lovely scarves and nice sweaters, and Jimin was gifted a beautiful set of silver rings. Jin received a set of handmade soaps and other high-end self-care items, which he was almost comically excited about.

As things wound down, and Jimin stifled more than a few yawns behind his hand, the four exchanged hugs and went their separate ways to sleep. Jin held Jimin for a few minutes outside of his door, and Jimin was grateful. Though things calmed down quickly after Sungmin had stormed off, there was still a weight on Jimin’s chest. Anxieties about the impending divorce, about even the next morning when his father would surely be back to his impossible ways, about spending a night without Jin – something he’d not done since they found each other. Jin departed only after kissing him long and hard, firmly enough that Jimin’s mouth ached after he left. He entered his childhood bedroom, changing into a pair of pajama pants and no shirt before curling up in the bed to try and seek some sleep.

And it almost worked, until his door creaked open just an hour or two after he laid down. Jimin rolled over, smiling a little, expecting Jin. “Couldn’t sleep without me?” He asked, opening his eyes.

The door shut and the light flicked on. Jimin’s father stood in front of the door. His eyes were bloodshot and Jimin could smell the alcohol seeping from his pores.

“Dad—” Jimin sat up, his heart skipping a few beats. This was bad. “What are you doing?”

“You ruined my life,” Sungmin growled. Jimin rose from the bed, circling around it with his hands up.

“Dad, please – You’re drunk. Can we talk about this in the morning?”

“You ruined everything!” Sungmin repeated. He stepped forward, a staggered movement.

Panic bubbled up in Jimin’s throat. He wanted to scream, or run. But screaming would do no good – and running wasn’t an option; his father was blocking his only safe exit.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Jimin tried. Perhaps submission was the way to go.

“You aren’t. You will be.”

“Please, Dad, I didn’t mean to make things hard. I’m sorry.”

Sungmin staggered toward Jimin once more. His hands went to his belt, the click of metal as he unhooked the belt as loud as a gunshot to Jimin’s panicked mind. His breath caught against the lump of bile rising in his throat.

“Don’t do this. Please, I’m too old for you to beat on like this. I’m only here one night, then I’m gone, you don’t need to do this,” Jimin tried once more. It was a desperate final attempt.

“You never learned your lesson, Jimin. I tried to teach you,” Sungmin said. He stepped forward again, forcing Jimin to take a step back. Jimin swallowed hard. He tried to dart around Sungmin, but Sungmin was too fast. His arm shot out and he grabbed Jimin’s throat, slamming him back. His feet tangled and he cried out as he went down, the hard wood stinging his tailbone. He scrambled to his feet, only to be met with a hard, open palmed strike against his cheek.

“Please,” he whispered.

“I’m going to teach you again,” Sungmin growled. He yanked his belt out of the loops, the snap of leather bringing unpleasant goosebumps to Jimin’s skin.

“Stop, please, Dad!” Jimin cried out. Sungmin slapped him again, snapping his head to the side. He tasted blood from his tongue, accidentally biting it on the strike. The next hit came without warning, a closed, meaty fist impacting Jimin’s jaw. He shouted, stumbling back as his vision greyed dangerously.

“Dad—”

The belt struck him like a whip. It hit his arm first, the end whipping around to strike his bare back. It began to sting instantly and Jimin whimpered.

“Stop—” His plea fell on deaf ears as another blow landed, this one lower on his back. Sungmin lumbered forward and grabbed his arm, twisting and shoving him hard.

Jimin stumbled and went down on his knees, crying out when Sungmin struck him once more with the belt three times in rapid succession. He heard the clink of the buckle and took the chance to flip over onto his ass, scrambling back as quickly as he could. His father had flipped the belt, the heavy, sharp edged buckle glinting as he wrapped the other end around his fist. His eyes were large and wild.

“I’m going to make sure you never wreck things again,” he snarled. He raised it up and Jimin covered his face, bracing for the pain and inevitable blood.

It never came.

Instead, Sungmin shouted and Jimin heard a deadly hiss. His eyes snapped open.

Jin was in the doorway, his snake form fully on display. Sungmin’s arm was raised, held up by one of Jin’s thick tentacles, the belt dangling limply from his fist as the tentacle squeezed his wrist.

Another tentacle shot out, wrapping around Sungmin’s throat and slamming him against the wall hard enough to shake it.

“How dare you strike him.” Jin said, his voice cold and dry, a rasp that he took on only in his snake form.

Sungmin struggled to breathe, his free hand clawing at Jin’s tentacles.

“What—What are you?” He choked out.

“Your worst fucking nightmare.” Jin squeezed tighter. He yanked Sungmin forward and coiled around him, teeth bared as Sungmin struggled helplessly. Jimin heard the sickening crack of some of his less thick bones – likely ribs.

“Let me go you freak,” Sungmin rasped.

“I’m going to rip your fucking throat out,” Jin snarled. “What gives you the right to hurt him?”

“He’s my son—” His defense was cut off when Jin’s grip tightened both on his throat and his body.

“He is not. You’re less than human,” Jin spat. Sungmin struck out with his free arm, clawing Jin’s face.

He hissed, the rest of his tentacles shooting out and grabbing the struggling man. Jin’s torso shot forward and Sungmin screamed, only to be muffled as a tentacle wrapped around his head like a gag.

Jimin struggled to wipe his tears and focus on the fight in front of him, but all he could see were tentacles and scales.

A wet rip echoed though the room, like a strip of raw steak shredding. His father seemed to gag and gargle. A tentacle shot out, throwing the door to Jimin’s closet opened. The familiar portal opened, and this time Jimin could see through it. Whatever place was on the other side looked like a nightmare. He could see creatures with large, leathery wings, a deserted, reddish landscape, smoke and dust obscuring the portal every few seconds. Jin released Sungmin from his tail, holding him up with his tentacles. Jimin could see bright red blood dripping down his shirt, staining it a sickening crimson. The tentacles arched back, holding Sungmin’s struggling form as if it were nothing, and threw.

Jimin watched his father get swallowed up by the portal seconds before it closed.

Jin turned to him, and panic bubbled up in Jimin’s throat. He sobbed brokenly, scrambling backwards. Jin’s eyes were nearly entirely black, blood staining his face and chest.

“Jimin— Fuck—” Jin shifted back into his human form quickly and sank to his knees, bowing low until his forehead touched the ground. “I’m so sorry, Jimin – Please don’t cry.”

“Don’t hurt me—” Jimin whispered.

“No!” Jin cried, looking up at him. “Never, Jimin, please – I’m sorry.” Jin looked close to tears himself, desperation coloring his voice. “He was hurting you—”

Jimin nodded, still shaking visibly. “He was going to kill me.”

“I heard you scream, I—I lost control.”

“Jin—The blood—”

“You— You bit him…”

“I—” Jin hesitated. “It just happened. It’s the monster – Side of me, I’m sorry, I—”

Jimin crawled forward slowly, sniffling. He reached out for Jin, touching a spot on his cheek not covered in blood.

“Shift,” he whispered. “Hold me.”

“Are you sure? You’re scared, I can smell it…”

“I’m terrified,” Jimin admitted.

“So—”

“Remind me,” Jimin said. “Remind me that you won’t hurt me.”

Jin nodded then, seeming to understand. He obeyed, the cool coils of his tail surrounding Jimin quickly. His tentacles cocooned Jimin as well, forming a loose, fleshy cage from the outside world.

Jimin was tense, but leaned into Jin’s touch. He pressed his head to his chest, listening to the rapid glug of his heart. His own heart began to slow down as the adrenaline wore down, and he was able to process through what he had just seen. He wrapped his arms around Jin, moving closer.

“How can you stand here,” Jin whispered. “After seeing me lose control like that—”

“You saved me, Jin,” Jimin whispered. “You saved me and Mom.”

Jimin looked up, smiling softly. “You didn’t need to bite him though… Still hungry? You should’ve had that piece of pumpkin pie.”

Jin hesitated for a second before laughing in a sort of desperate surprise.

“You don’t hate me?”

“No. Thank you for coming in when you did,” Jimin whispered, hugging Jin once more.

“I was coming in to lay with you, I couldn’t sleep. I heard you scream and I—I saw red. I couldn’t stop the change. I knew you were in danger, I—”

“He was going to kill me tonight, Jin. I know it. That look, I’ve – I’ve never seen it before.”

“He can’t hurt you now. He can’t escape there.”

The reality of what had just happened hit Jimin suddenly, and he sagged in the center of Jin’s coil. Tears blurred his vision and he began to sob, holding tight to Jin’s torso as he did.

Jin said nothing more, only holding him and petting his hair down. He tightened his coil a bit more, keeping Jimin firmly against his body. Jimin felt an additional warmth spread over him, and he realized it was a blanket from his bed. Jin leaned forward, resting on his own coil as they embraced.

Jimin’s sobs faded into soft whimpers, exhaustion flooding in and overruling the anxiety and stress of the previous few minutes. He shifted, resting on one of the thicker parts of Jin’s coil, almost like a seat. He didn’t want Jin to let go. And – if Jin’s closed eyes were any indicator – Jin didn’t want to either. But this wasn’t safe.

“We could get caught,” Jimin whispered.

“I’ll lock the door.”

“You’re covered in blood. And so am I,” Jimin explained. Jin opened his eyes and sighed.

“I suppose you’re right. I’m not leaving you alone tonight, Jimin.”

“What are we going to tell my mother?”

“I can handle that.” Jin shifted back, reluctantly letting go of Jimin. “But you’re right; we should get cleaned up.”

“Give me your shirt,” Jimin said. Jin obeyed, stripping out of his bloodied white sleeping shirt. Jimin balled it up, wiping his chest and neck free of as much blood as he could manage. “I’ll be right back.”

He slipped out of the room and went to the bathroom, wetting the shirt with some soap and water. He tried his best to wash the blood out, scowling at it when it wouldn’t come clean. He washed himself in the mirror, making sure there was no more blood on his face or chest. He could see bruises appearing where his father had struck him, and a quick peek revealed the same on his back – long strips of bruising and welting where the belt had struck. He sighed softly.

He returned to the room, using the wet shirt to clean Jin’s face and neck. Once clean, the claw marks that his father had left on Jin’s cheek were more obvious. He touched them, wincing.

“It doesn’t hurt too bad.” Jin said, grabbing his hand and kissing it.

“I can’t get the blood out of the shirt.” Jimin lamented.

“No concern.” Jin waved his hand, opening another portal and tossing the shirt in. “Problem solved.”

“One at least.” Jimin tried to remain calm, but his anxiety was getting the best of him. Seeming to sense this, Jin scooped Jimin close, kissing him hard. Jimin could taste a bitter, iron-y tang on his lips, driving home exactly what happened. “Jin—” Jimin whispered.

“Are you scared of me?” Jin asked.

“No, I…” Jimin drifted off. “Why did you bite him? Are you… I mean do you crave… That?”

“No. It’s instinct in fights unfortunately. But I’m not interested in eating people. I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“You didn’t,” Jimin assured him. “I just… Wanted to know.”

“I promise the only bite I’ll take of you is the fun kind,” Jin said softly. Jimin chuckled. He slid his hands over Jin’s arms. “Shift again. Lock the door.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’ve never hesitated before…”

“You’ve never seen that side of me before.”

“Fair enough,” Jimin said. “I am sure. I think I need it tonight.”

Jin locked the door and shifted, coiling around Jimin. Jimin began to stroke his tail, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers lightly up and down the smooth, cool scales. As he did, he could feel a gentle bulge building where he knew Jin’s cocks were in this form. He smiled a little and reached down, brushing his finger over the slit they slid from.

Jin shuddered. “Jimin—”

Jimin dipped his finger into the slit, feeling Jin’s half hard topmost cock. He met his gaze. “It’s okay. I want to.” He withdrew his finger and began to grind against Jin’s crotch, kissing him gently as he did. Soon, Jin’s cocks slipped from the slit, bumping Jimin’s own hardening cock through the thin fabric of his pajamas. Jin nudged him to get him around, his hands shaking ever so slightly.

Jimin turned as well as he could in the center of Jin’s coil. He leaned on the topmost ring, absentmindedly stroking the smooth scales as Jin’s hands and tentacles made quick work of his pajamas. The all good familiar slick, dribbling from his tentacle, ran down Jimin’s ass. They never used lube anymore; this was all they needed. The two midsized tentacles worked his ass open with ease. He opened his mouth, and Jin slid his thicker tentacle in, the suckers tickling Jimin’s tongue as he sucked on it.

Almost too soon, he was ready. Jin’s tentacles slipped free.

“One or both?” Jin asked.

The tentacle slipped from Jimin’s mouth so he could speak.

“If I were a Naga mate... Would this be how we’d breed?” Jimin asked instead.

“Yes. You’d face me — But we’d be wrapped in our coils like this.”

“Would you use one cock or both?”

“Both. Maximum chances to mate.”

“Then use both,” Jimin said simply.

Jin groaned. The tentacles did the work, lifting Jimin just enough and spreading his cheeks to drop him onto Jin’s thick, throbbing cocks. Jimin squealed, shuddering hard.

“And if I were a monster—“ Jimin asked, beginning to lazily wiggle and flex around Jin’s cocks.

“My tentacles, as you know.”

“Better get them in me then,” Jimin smirked when Jin’s throat clicked.

“I am your mate. I want to make all sides of you feel good.”

“Fuck...”

Jimin groaned when one thin and one mid-sized tentacle slid into his already stretched hole. The thin one immediately coiled around Jin’s human shaped cock, while the other snaked deep inside him until his body cramped. Only then did it stop and begin swelling, already pumping fluid slowly into his guts.

Jimin moaned. The tentacle curled around Jin’s cock had begun to shift.

“Are you jerking off inside of me?”

“Mhm... Do you like it?”

“It feels so good,” Jimin panted, slumping down further. “Keep going...”

The tentacle twisted, wrapping around both cocks. It stroked them in sync. The other midsized tentacle slid down Jimin’s throat as soon as he opened his mouth to moan, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure. He began to suck on it, grumbling happily when Jin’s second thin tentacle opened up, swallowing down Jimin’s cock like a hot, wet mouth.

“That’s it, Minie,” Jin cooed, wrapping his arms around Jimin. “Just let go, let yourself float. I’ll take care of everything.”

Jimin obeyed. His eyes slipped shut, focusing on the overflow of physical sensations all over his body. The tentacle deep in his body had swollen to its maximum, essentially acting as a plug while it pumped fluid in lazy drizzles. The one down his throat was also dribbling fluid, and Jimin swallowed with no thought.

And of course Jin’s body. The coils flexed and tightened, making Jimin’s heart skip a beat. In all the times they’d made love - they had never done so in this form. Jin was always too scared of hurting him. But here - this was perfect.

Jimin barely felt himself come, despite his instinctive cry and shudder. His mind felt miles away, floating along as Jin used his body. It was unbelievable.

Jimin lost track of the number of orgasms be had; and the amount of come and fluid Jin had released inside him. He was distinctly aware of his boated stomach, a sure sign that Jin was nearly done.

“I got you a present,” Jin whispered in his ear. Jimin could feel his cocks throbbing, spilling a load deep into him. The tentacle down his throat slithered out and Jimin dragged in a breath.

“What is it?”

“I was going to wait until we got home... I hid it in your bag...” Jin shifted, making Jimin groan as his overextended stomach moved. Jin snagged his bag and dug around in a front compartment, pulling out a semi-bulky black box. He opened it to reveal a thick silver anal plug.

Jimin moaned. “Please—“ He begged. His biggest regret after their lovemaking was always losing everything inside him, feeling so empty after.

“Just relax,” Jin whispered he began to push the plug in alongside his cocks. The tentacle slipped out, a little further. He began to pull his cocks free at the same time he worked the plug in. The plug popped in at the same time his tips slid out and Jimin cried out sharply.

“Good or too much?” Jin worried.

“Good,” Jimin panted. “I can’t— I’m gonna pass out,” he admitted, the floaty feeling still present.

“I’ll take care of you, baby.” Jimin’s body went limp in Jin’s arms. He was vaguely aware of Jin shifting back and catching him before he could fall. He scooped him into his arms and laid him in the bed, carefully lying next to him.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

Jimin wanted to answer, but couldn’t find the strength. He closed his eyes, his face twisting of its own volition. Tears welled behind closed lids and he whimpered.

“Oh, Jimin,” Jin whispered. He pulled him close and held him tight, tugging the blankets over them. “Breathe.”

Jimin grabbed at Jin’s back, crying against his chest. He wasn’t fully aware of why he was crying. His father, maybe; the reality of losing him settling in. Jin’s love – even to the point of doing something otherwise entirely out of character for him… It was all so much.

Jimin cried until his belly ached and he was so tired he couldn’t open his eyes. And Jin remained with him, stroking his hair, hugging him, no matter how he shifted or sobbed. When he could do no more, he reached for a tissue, laughing brokenly when Jin presented one to him. He sat up and blew his nose, his mind and body finally feeling like they were in one piece again.

“Do you want to talk?” Jin asked softly when Jimin met his gaze.

“Not really.”

“That’s okay. Are you alright? Can I help with anything?”

“I just… I – I don’t know.”

“I’m going to walk away for just a few seconds, okay? I need to get you something to drink and eat.”

“Don’t go!” Jimin said a little desperately, grabbing onto Jin’s arm.

Jin sighed, chewing his lip. “Well, alright, let’s get pants on you; you come with me.” He rose, letting Jimin hang off him, as he dug in his bag.

“Do you need the plug taken out?” He worried.

Jimin looked down, seeing the small bulge of his stomach, still present. “Probably… I should… Bathroom.”

“We’ll stop there on the way. Where do your mother and grandmother sleep? Could they have heard the noise?”

“Ground floor – I doubt it… Walls are thick.”

Jin nodded again. He grabbed Jimin’s boxers and handed them to him, heading toward the door. “They wouldn’t come up here right? You can make it to the bathroom without putting those on?”

Jimin nodded. He let Jin guide him out of the bedroom to the bathroom. Jin stood back by the door, letting Jimin head to the shower.

“Do you want me to help?” Jin asked. Jimin shook his head no, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He desperately did – he didn’t want to be away from Jin for a second, but maybe a few minutes away could let his mind un-fog itself.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. In the few minutes that it took him to clean himself – and the tub – from the aftermath of their lovemaking – he was ready to start sobbing again.

“Jin,” he called, hating the desperation in his voice. Jin was there in a second, leaning into the shower.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“How much did you wash? Where can I help?”

“Dry off,” Jimin mumbled. His arms felt too heavy to move, and all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry. Jin reached in and shut off the water, leaning over to grab a towel and help Jimin out of the shower. He dried him off without a word and got him back into his boxers. Gently, he pressed a kiss to Jimin’s mouth.

“I’m right here.” Jin guided him down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbing a small bowl and spoon. He doled out some of the pudding and other sweets before settling Jimin into a chair. He stroked Jimin’s cheek and scooped some up. Jimin grimaced.

“I feel like a baby.”

“Never. You’re just… You went through a lot today. I’m here for you.”

“You always are,” Jimin whispered. He let Jin feed him a bite of pudding.

“We can talk tomorrow,” Jin said. “I know you might need to process things.”

Jimin nodded. He ate quietly, moving a little closer so his knee touched Jin’s as he did. He felt ridiculous, but knew Jin was right. He didn’t know how he was going to face his mother and grandmother tomorrow.

After eating, Jin washed the dishes and put them away, and guided Jimin back up to his room, lying with him.

“Get some sleep, if you can.”

Jimin snuggled tight to his chest, sighing softly. Jin remained with him, holding him as he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, Jin pressed a kiss to Jimin’s mouth as he woke. “I have to go back to my room now.”

“I still don’t want you to go,” Jimin admitted.

“Are you still feeling how you were last night?”

“Yes and no. I think things have set in, but I don’t feel so … Weird and floaty.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“About?”

Jin blinked, seemingly waiting for Jimin to figure it out. The memories of Jin, covered in his father’s blood, slipped back into his mind. “Right.”

“I understand if you dislike me for what I did.”

“He was my dad.”

Jin nodded, guilt coloring his expression.

“But he was trying to kill me. He was beating mom. If you hadn’t…. I don’t know what he would have done. He was my dad, but he wasn’t a good man. What you did was justified. But what do we tell Mom? Gramma?”

“Let me handle it.”

“What will you say?”

“He was beating on you. I came in and broke it up, he clawed me, I hit him… He ran off. Simple as that. No proof to say otherwise. We were the only ones in the room and he’s not getting back from that world. Likely… He’s not breathing at this moment.”

Jimin hesitated for a moment, letting the words sit and sink in. He nodded. “Okay. I’ll follow your lead.”

Jin rose. He kissed Jimin once more and slipped out of the room and down the hall to his own room. Jimin rose and dressed, heading to the bathroom to comb his hair. He grimaced at the bruise on his jaw, dark and angry, and wished he’d brought along makeup to cover it. He sighed a little and fixed his hair, trying all he could to draw less attention to it. He went down the stairs, met with the scent of breakfast. Quietly, he peeked into the kitchen, his heart swelling a little. His mother was laughing brightly, stirring something in a bowl. His grandmother was flattening patties of rice, nodding along to something that was said earlier.

Jiwoong caught sight of Jimin peeking in and grinned. “Get in here, you. Come try this.” Jimin entered fully, and Jiwoong’s smile drooped, seeing his jaw.

“So that was the noise I heard last night.”

Jimin’s own smile faded. He hung his head. “I—”

“Did he leave after?” She asked.

“Jin—He came in hearing me shout. He was beating me with a belt,” Jimin whispered. He pushed him off and they fought and he hurt Jin but Jin… Punched him, hard. He ran off when Jin threatened the cops.”

Jiwoong sighed and then nodded. “Good. He won’t be welcome back in this house if he returns.”

“Isn’t it his? He always said…”

She chuckled. “This was never his house. Your Gramma and Grandpa purchased it for us when we decided to move.”

Jimin’s grandmother smirked behind her. “She’s lucky I didn’t kick his abusive ass to the curb before then. Come on, let me see if I can find something for that bruise. Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Some cuts on my back from the belt and Jin’s got a scratch on his face.”

“Alright, we’ll get those cleaned up too. Where’s your knight in shining armor.”

“Getting ready in his room, I think.”

She guided Jimin into the bathroom and settled him onto the toilet, setting about digging in some of the cupboards.

“Is it difficult?” His grandmother asked.

“What?”

“Him not being human.”

Jimin’s stomach dropped into his bladder. “Wh—What? Who isn’t human?” He stuttered.

Jimin’s grandmother smiled knowingly. “You don’t need to pretend. I know he’s Naga.”

“How?”

“Nagas are different. They move different, sound different. I saw his scales too – across his nose. And he smells like a snake, even with his cologne. What made me confident was the tattoo… Your tentacles have scales on them, very faintly. I’m not sure why there’s tentacles, or if he really is just fond of sea life… But I know he’s not human. I also know your father didn’t leave last night.”

She tugged his shirt up. Jimin pulled it off. He swallowed hard. Tears welled in his eyes. “Gramma—”

“I won’t tell. Good riddance, in my opinion. How did he do it though? Generally after Nagas feast they are unable to change back for a while…”

“He didn’t eat him, he… Threw him. Into another dimension.”

“I didn’t know Nagas had that ability.”

“They don’t. He’s half… Monster. He was… I met him because he was haunting my room. In my new apartment. The monster in my closet… God that sounds insane.”

“I believe you. Is he okay?”

“He’s fine – He fits in perfectly. I just… How did you know?”

“When I was young… I met one of his kind. He was far less friendly, but I learned a lot. His secret is safe with me.” She began to apply ointment to the cuts on his back.

“Thank you, Gramma.”

“Jimin?” Jin called.

“Bathroom,” Jimin returned.

Jin slipped in, smiling softly. “You okay?”

“I’m good. I let them know about Dad… But Gramma…”

Jin met her gaze. “You know.”

“I do. I have for a while.”

“I thought you might… You looked at me strange the first time we met. Do you know then…”

“About what you did to that bastard my daughter married? Yes. And I thank you for it. They will both be better off. Come sit, let met fix your face.”

“Nah, I heal fast; probably by tomorrow. Thank you though. Is your daughter okay?” He asked.

“She was so happy this morning,” Jimin commented. “Was it because Dad…”

“Yes, honestly. When that creature isn’t around, she is entirely different. You boys did good. He never would have left us alone, even in Busan. Come on, let’s get back out there to eat.”

Jimin and Jin followed her back out. Jimin walked up to his mom and hugged her tight. “We’ll be happy,” he whispered. “I know, baby. I’m sorry he hurt you.”

“It was worth it. Seeing Jin defend me…”

Jiwoong smiled softly, looking at Jin. “He’s a good boy. Sit down, eat some breakfast and then we’ll open gifts.”

Jimin nodded and sat down next to Jin. He leaned over and kissed him gently.

Breakfast went smoothly and without argument, but with plenty of laughter. Gifts were the same, lots of laughter and sharing. Jimin and Jin were passed a few of the gifts belonging to Sungmin, and if Jimin was being honest with himself… His presence was not missed even a little. He’d never seen his mother smile or laugh so much, and he felt free and able to be himself for the first time in many years in his childhood home. Instead of being eager to go home, as he usually was after family meals – Jimin found himself wishing he could stay longer. He understood what had happened; the reality of what Jin did had sunken in at this point. But he was alright with it. His mother was so much happier now, he felt happier. Though he’d lost a parent, he – and his family – had gained freedom. And it was all thanks to his soulmate.

#jinmin #btsguild #boymeetsmxm #thebtswritersclub #bangtanxm #jimin x jin #jin x jimin #seokjin x jimin #jimin x seokjin #smut #mywriting

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